This is the first time that the Knolly Estate has allowed the great man's memoirs to be published. What follows is the fortieth section of 'An African Adventure'.

As soon as we shut the door to the anteroom and sat down on the benches, the room started to warm up significantly. It was a dry sort of heat and made one feel very woozy, even as we just sat there opposite each other. The sweat started to roll down our bodies. I suddenly felt a burning sensation on my stomach; the metal casing on my watch and chain was starting to conduct heat. Bertie saw my predicament, grinned and leant back against the wall in a smug manner, only to spring forward suddenly with a look of pain.

'Arrgh! How do women wear these things? Feels like I've got a hundred knives sticking into my ribs!'

I told you it was too tight! Now, loosen yourself off ,before you faint like a women as well.

'Careful! I'll tell Elspeth that you said that,' said Bertie with a grin.

I was about to answer when I saw the door handle turn. 'Bertie, look lively! We have company.'

'Oh Lord! This room is for men only, isn't it?'

I managed to extricate myself from my watch and chain, placing them by my side where they could radiate on their own, while Bertie fought to loosen his stays. The door opened slowly and in walked a man of mixed race, wearing only a loincloth, his dark skin glistening with perspiration. As the door closed behind him, he sat down next to Bertie. Our guest looked him up and down and Bertie shuffled uncomfortably sideways to make some room. Our guest then did the same with me. I also shuffled, also uncomfortably, also sideways to make a little more room.

Bertie blinked: SAILOR STOP LOOK AT HIS TATTOO.

I leaned to one side, pretending to get my buttocks more comfortable on the wooden slats of the bench, and got a good look at the man's tattoo, which bore the legend 'HMS Racoon'.

INTERESTING COMMA I KNOW THE SHIP, I replied. I decided to break the ice, which should not have been that difficult in a sauna.

'Good evening to you, sir!' I said in a breezy manner, doffing an imaginary hat. 'Please excuse our attire, but we are travelling salesmen wearing our wares. We are trying out a new range of men's apparel for the fuller figure.'

OH GOOD SHOW KNOLLY, blinked Bertie.

The guest looked at both of us once more and grunted. Small talk was clearly not one of this surly fellow's greatest assets.

'You pick an interesting venue for shore leave. Do you come here often?' asked Bertie.

The man nodded, got up and tapped some indicators on the wall. He spoke.

'Do you mind if I turn it up a bit? I like it hot. I get used to it working in the engine rooms. It helps to purge the drink from me system.'

'Why yes, certainly. We were just thinking that this was a bit on the cool side,' interjected Bertie.

WE WERE? I blinked urgently. I'd seen this sort of false bravado from my friend before. In particular, there was the time on assignment in Mexico when he had insisted on trying to keep up with the locals during the Jalapeno Fiesta and had to spend several days sitting waist-deep in a river as part of his recovery.

The sailor sat back down, adjusted his loincloth and made to close his eyes, but not before Bertie could fire off another question.

'I say! You're a regular, so to speak. Do you know who owns this place?'

He turned to face Bertie (who was now going a very interesting red colour) and sighed.

I've heard that it's run by the local government, with the Prime Minister taking a very special interest. I've also heard plenty of rumours that there are various other parties who help finance it, but I don't know who.'

With that, he settled back and closed his eyes. He made it clear that he did not wish to converse further. As the temperature soared, I picked up my watch very gingerly and blinked away the perspiration that had run into my eyes.

Bertie watched me intently, tapped me on the shoulder and hissed: 'That's not a very nice thing to blink at a chum!'

'Sorry — lack of concentration! Come on man, time to go. I feel like I am melting.'

Our loinclothed companion made no acknowledgement of us leaving. Once we were in the anteroom, the cooler air hit our lungs. It was like nectar.

'Bertie, did you happen to notice how high he had adjusted the temperature?' I asked.

'No, and I do not care because I am going to ring for a drink now. I must say, this corset is much more comfortable when one is standing up.'

'Hmm, yes. Mine is not chafing so much now that my torso is so well lubricated. But come on! We have an appointment to keep. Get your robe on and let us push that button!'

The temperature dropped even more once we were back in the corridor and Bertie hit the button with a flourish.

'So! We wait for a steward...'

'Bertie! Look out!'

The instant that Bertie had pushed the button, there was a grinding noise from within the wall, followed by a final, resounding 'whump'. This was the sound of a green door that had quickly slid across the entrance to the sauna, sealing it off from the rest of the ship. It happened so quickly that I had to pull the dumbfounded Bertie to one side.

'Ah!' said Bertie. 'That'll be the, er...'

'Fire door!' I said. 'It's not a drinks service at all! Come on, let's get it back open before our friend inside livens up and realises that he can't get out!'

Try as we might, the door would not budge. There was, understandably, much hooting and hollering from within as not-so-Jolly Jack Tar realised his predicament. It appeared that he was trying to open the door through the power of swearing, cursing and malediction.

'CALM DOWN!' called Bertie. The sailor replied with a volley of abuse, the like of which we had never before heard, and that was saying something.

'I say!' said Bertie. 'That's rather uncalled for, isn't it?'

I agreed to an extent. Here we were trying to help a fellow human being, and we get a torrent of verbal abuse as thanks. However, I reminded Bertie that we had in effect locked a man in an oven and thereby probably condemned him to a steaming fate. Under the circumstances, he had every right to be a bit miffed and to make a bit of a fuss, which he did with great volume.

While Bertie and I pondered the correct protocol that one ought to adopt in this type of situation, the frenzy from the other side of the fire door began to gradually subside and there came a sound — a soggy 'thump' — that conjured images of a well-built body hitting the wooden floor.

Quickly dropping our intercourse on etiquette, Bertie and I tugged at the door with all our might, but all to no avail. It would not budge.

Just then, a uniformed chappie sauntered along the corridor.

'Good evening, er...' he said as he eyed our peculiar attire, '...sirs?'

He introduced himself as Thomas Ferdinand, someone who was pleased to make our acquaintance, someone who was at our service and — most importantly — someone who was the Fire Chief on board La Mer.

'An alarm has been set off in this area. What appears to be the matter, sirs?'

We both pointed at the door. He ordered us to stand well back as he inspected the ferrous portal in great detail. After much thought, he announced his findings. 'It's locked,' he said.

'And...?'

'Well, when the door is locked, it is assumed that there is a fire within. A mechanism then sucks all of the air out of the room, thus starving the fire of oxygen and killing it. Quite ingenious!'

Bertie spoke first. 'You do realise that there is someone in there?'

The chief's lips moved, but no sound emerged. He tried again. 'Person? Inside?'

He calmly took a notebook and pencil from his left breast pocket, drew a picture of a dog and then immediately ripped out the page. He thought for a moment, nodded sagely, took a deep breath and shouted 'HELP! HELP!' as he ran around in small circles.

From the staircase came the call 'Help is at hand, I'm coming!' and a small, wrinkled man appeared. He introduced himself as Hendrik van der Poom, someone who was pleased to make our acquaintance, someone who was at our service and, most importantly, someone who knew how to open fire doors, for he was the lower-deck acting-sub-under-janitor.

He toddled up to the sauna and pushed the green button. The door slid effortlessly open.

'I was just going to try that,' said Bertie.

'Never mind all that,' I said as we stared at the collapsed sailor. 'What are we going to do with our new friend?'

The Great Knolly Archive

The Shepherd and
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21.09.06 Front Page

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