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

I handed the note back to Bertie and asked, 'Ever had a sauna before, Bertie?'

'Um... no, but I believe a sauna bath is like a Turkish one. Had several of those.'

'Well, that makes two of us. However, let me point out what I do know. It is correctly pronounced "sow (rhymes with wow) nah" and is the only Finnish word in the English dictionary.'

Bertie nodded thoughtfully and said, 'That's very useful to know.' I could tell that this was the kind of whimsical information with which he could charm the fillies at garden parties. His eyes suddenly widened as he spoke in a most energetic manner.

'Ha! Do you remember the story that Vinishyourmilkhof told us about saunas in Russia with all that hitting each other with birch twigs?'

'Good Lord, yes! Dear Alexander! I do believe it was his birthday recently. Well, there'll be none of that sort of stuff allowed to go on in such a reputable place as this, I'll be bound,' I announced with unsubstantiated confidence.

Just then, our guide and baggage handler appeared as if by magic.

'Oh, here are our bags. They all seem to be there.' Bertie concurred and looked somewhat relieved.

The guide bade us follow him and as we did so, I mused over some worrying facts that were nagging in the back of my mind. Firstly, we had not been asked to pay for our lodgings; nextly, we had not been asked how long we were staying for; lastly, we were assigned to stay in Room Number 13, which in my experience of travel around the world is always, but always left vacant.

The way ahead was dimly lit and neither Bertie nor I were sure of our footing. This became even more obvious as our guide suddenly disappeared down a staircase while appearing to be standing quite still. This was altogether quite eerie and the shock to our systems was even worse for, try as we might, we could not catch him up.

'Knolly! What the blazes is going on here? I keep stepping forward to go down but I seem to be moving backwards!' said Bertie in a rather agitated tone.

I took a step and then another step and I too found myself back where I started.

'Look! Our bagman's already at the bottom! Hey! Wait for us!'

'I know. Let's try running, Knolly,' suggested Bertie.

Using this approach, we managed to get a few steps further down than we had managed with walking, but once again we found ourselves running on the spot and then going backwards until we were deposited in a heap at the top. All this time, other people around us were happily moving downstairs in the same smooth and haunting manner exhibited by our bagman.

As Bertie and I sat at the top of these strange stairs, there came a voice from behind. A woman's voice.

'Excuse me, but you two are blocking the inclined elevator.'

I turned round and looked up into a heavily made-up face — almost clown-like, but much too pretty — yet still somewhat scary.

'You find myself and my colleague at a disadvantage... erm... Miss?'

The painted lady giggled and pointed to a nearby staircase.

'That is the down side, and this is the up. There are normal staircases elsewhere on La Mer, but they tire out one's feet so.' She giggled again. 'And in this line of work, it doesn't do to become tired so quickly.'

I looked down at her feet and then back to her face. Something in the eyes seemed very familiar — and that giggling, too — but I let it pass and nodded in agreement.

Bertie and I scrambled to get out of the way of the painted lady and out of the way of the press of other interestingly-attired people that was building up behind her.

'Some sort of theatre troupe, no doubt,' I thought aloud. 'Bertie! Let us use the "down" version of this moving staircase-contraption, shall we?'

'Better lighting would be more useful on this ship than this sort of machinery,' muttered Bertie. 'Interesting concept, though. I've only heard of a similar device as a novelty ride at Coney Island on New York. Wonder how it works?' He quietened as he mulled and mused.

Our guide was waiting somewhat impatiently at the bottom of the moving staircase, but at least he made no comment of our antics, which we took to mean that we were not the first (and neither would we be the last) to have trouble with such a new mode of moving from one level to another.

On this lower level, all was hustle and bustle. Music was playing from various directions so that one could hear a Strauss waltz overlaid with a polka or two. The lighting here was much improved — almost gaudy — and everyone we saw was moving with a sense of purpose, none of them seeming like strangers to their surroundings.

Bertie nudged me in the ribs and whispered, 'Difficult to believe we are on a boat, isn't it?'

I nodded and pointed out that we were about to descend once more down to the couchettes. We followed the silent handler along corridors that seemed to get narrower with every step. At this level it smelt damp, indicating that we were now just below the water line. The lighting changed once again and we could see that the doors leading off were all numbered.

'Knolly, I've been pacing between each door. The room can only be three paces wide! They must be tiny, with beds on top of each other or something. Bit of a come down from the rooms that Elspeth put at our disposal.... Oh damn, sorry!'

We stopped and stooped outside Room 13. The handler produced the key with a flourish and the door opened inwards. The room was huge. The handler placed our bags on the table that stood in the centre of the room and then started to leave.

'Oh, before you go, where, pray, will we find the sauna bath?' asked Bertie.

'Keep following this corridor to the set of stairs, go down and you will find the sauna facilities.' He smiled, bowed and left, clutching tight the gratuity that Bertie had pressed upon him.

'Let's check our luggage, Bertie. What...?'

I turned to find that my colleague was acting in a most curious manner. He had stepped quickly out of the room, then he jumped back in though the door, looked left and right and jumped back out.

'Bertie, what are you doing?'

He grabbed me by the arm. 'Watch me,' he said in a conspiratorial manner. He proceeded to pace from our door to Room 11. 'Three paces that way, yes?'

I nodded.

He grabbed me once more, dragging me back inside, and proceeded to pace out three steps from the doorway to the wall which separated the rooms. After twenty five paces he stopped and looked at me as if to say 'Well??!!'

'Ah! I see what you are getting at, Bertie. Once more we have found one of Docteur Roux's wonderful designs.'

'Don't smile like that! You know that his designs are not really physically possible! Mathematicians cannot explain his designs, and they are a nightmare for carpet fitters and wallpaper hangers. What is more, I believe his designs are not of this Earth!'

'Look, Bertie, the good Docteur is perfectly harmless, apart from affecting an outrageous French accent from time to time. I'm sure that there is a perfectly good reason for him helping in the design of this "vessel"; it would explain its name, after all.'

'Money would have been another good reason, I'll wager,' quipped Bertie as he flung himself on the nearest bed.

I hefted one of our bags on to the other bed and began to check its contents as we spoke. 'Well, yes, that's true; he can be a bit mercenary. On the other hand, when our paths have crossed he has never deliberately troubled us.'

Bertie gave me a look and I held up my hands. 'All right, all right. Tomorrow you can send a telegram to Hobbes telling him that we have found another anomaly.'

'Do you know how many the League has tracked down over the last 10 years?' asked Bertie.

I sighed. 'Fifteen. And this makes sixteen. See? I do listen to what you tell me of the ALA.'

'Oh — you're just miffed that you haven’t been offered membership yet, aren't you?'

I looked up. 'Bertie, I refuse to grace that remark with an answer. However, for your information, I have yet to reply to the League's benefactor. Oh —' Something about the contents of my bag made me stop. 'Just as I thought. Bertie... check your stuff.'

Bertie scrambled across the bed to open his own luggage. 'I see what you mean. Nothing missing, but I know where I put my stuff and my shoes are never — d'you hear, never — with my shirts.'

'Well, it only helps to prove what we already know, and that is...'

'We are far too tidy at packing?'

'No. Yes. And those watching us are not professional agents and are obviously onboard with us. It's all becoming very confusing.'

'Indeed, but time is ticking on and we have an appointment to keep. Um, Knolly, what should we wear for this sauna thingy?'

'As little as possible, but still enough to show that we are gentlemen. Perhaps our normal evening robes over clean underwear?'

Bertie agreed and reminded me that he had packed only the bare essentials for us. He also reminded me of another incident. 'Well, there was Gladys, wasn't there?'

'Indeed,' I replied. 'And your point?'

'You know about women and their attitude to packing,' said Bertie as he shrugged and started to back away towards another door.

'So I have boots, a shirt...'

'Two shirts!' he called out from a distance.

'Wonderful. Two shirts and let me see...' I dug deeper into the bag until, 'Aha! What is I this I have here in my hands? Undergarments! Hurrah!'

For some reason Bertie had hidden his eyes and then I looked to see what I was holding. Suffice to say, I was not particularly happy with what I saw. Luckily, the room's copious size allowed for its own en-suite bathroom and, whilst Bertie was hiding within waiting for me to calm down, he had found a cupboard that held a pair of Chinese silk evening gowns, complete with matching pill box caps. We donned these and admired each other's appearance. What a wonderful sight we must have looked to one and all as we ambled along the corridor and down the flight of stairs to our first sauna experience. At the bottom of the stairs was a short corridor which ended in a wooden wall; this wall had a door with a small square window. We peered in and saw another door beyond which was yet another room with wooden benches.

'The anteroom must be for changing and the other is the actual bathing area,' I said as I moved towards the door.

Bertie nodded in agreement and leant back against the side of the vessel. 'Oh look, Knolly! Do you think this is a button to call for drinks?'

'Possibly. But we'll quench our thirst later, shall we?' I pulled out my pocket watch, which I had clipped to the splendid corset that I was now wearing. 'We'll take half an hour in here and hopefully no one else will join us.' I gave Bertie one of my stares.

Having felt elegant in the Chinese robes, I was less than happy with our appearance as we disrobed and stood there wearing Gladys’ spare undergarments. Deuced uncomfortable items, but our own woollen one-pieces needed an airing after the journey and so had been left in our rooms.

'Do you think my bottom looks big in this?' enquired Bertie.

'What does it matter? You are going to be sitting down!'

'Oh, that's right. Silly me!' he replied as he disappeared momentarily into a cloud of steam.

The Great Knolly Archive

The Shepherd and
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07.09.06 Front Page

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