Back in No Time. Brion Gysin

a feudatory of the duke and owes him at least nominal allegiance. On Herm itself the owner is the highest legal authority, the dispenser of justice, and a despot who may strike coins or mint stamps if he wishes.

      Grandfather had no subjects other than the members of his own family and the servants. He would have ruled them with a rod of iron even if he had not been granted plenipotentiary powers by feudal right. He rarely had any contact with foreigners except for the few fishermen to whom he granted fishing rights in his waters. Actually, Grandfather was in a sense a foreigner himself: that is, he was not English, though the Duke of Normandy, his liege lord, had no more loyal feudal retainer.

      When the first great war of our time surprised people who, like the lord of Herm, were living in the past, there were those who whispered that Grandfather should no longer be allowed to retain his island. The gossip about him was common in Guernsey and in Jersey, but he was the last to hear the malicious tales which were invented. These people said that he was entertaining officers from the U-boats which were known to be in the Channel. In truth, my grandfather had more fear of the submarines than anyone.

      He was continually on the lookout for them and he thought of little else. He was not afraid for his life or for his property, but for something which he considered to be infinitely more precious. He had five daughters who were all nubile to what he considered an awkward degree. He knew the dangers of that frangible state from certain observations of his own—made much earlier in life, of course—and the jealousy with which he guarded them from contact with the world was, indeed, the principal reason for living on Herm.

      The girls were quite content with the life they led, for they knew no other. Their pleasures were simple and healthy. For exercise they took walks to collect flowers, and they were allowed to bathe in the sea. They splashed and shrieked in the water from eleven to twelve on sunny mornings, while Grandfather thought grimly of the submarines which might easily emerge in full view of the beach.

      Each morning he scanned the sea from the top of a nearby cliff, and like a nervous passenger on a ship feeling its way through wartime waters, he imagined every stick and every floating bottle to be a periscope. He saw younger men than he pressing around the sighting apparatus, with wild desire shining in their eyes, as they saw the graceful images of his sea-nymph daughters in their blue serge bathing dresses trimmed with white braid and piping, their pretty flowing yellow hair hidden in caps like immense yellow water lilies and their pretty pink toes encased in black cotton stockings and rubber shoes with little rose pompons on the toes.

      Grandfather accompanied them in an old green rubberized military stormcoat, worn over a bathing suit with short sleeves and pants which half-hid his cavalry legs, and a black bowler hat which he never took off—even when he entered the water. Neither did he remove his yellow wash gloves until he had finished his dip, for he felt that it was not fitting that a man in his position should come in contact with any fish other than a cooked one, with its knowing eye removed and the socket sprouting a green sprig from the herb garden.

      His bowler was a matter of tender and respectful amusement among the young ladies, until finally one day my mother, who was by far the boldest, being the prettiest and therefore her father’s favorite, snatched it from his head and from the top of the cliff flung it out to sea. It caught the breeze and sailed many yards before it plunged down and hit the water, soon bobbing out of sight on the ebb tide. The girls pealed with laughter like a disagreeable set of chimes, and were confined to their rooms. The next day my grandfather again went to the seashore in his bowler. He had retrieved it from the rising tide, and he continued to wear it as long as he believed in sea bathing.

      Though there were no other inhabitants on the island, and the menservants were my grandfather’s age, the thought of prying, lustful eyes continued to haunt the old man’s heart. The more he thought of the desires of young men confined in submarines, the more determined he became to stop the daily excursions to the shore, though he did not wish to deprive the girls of their pleasure. At that time it had become almost impossible to leave Herm, and even the short sea trip to Guernsey was dangerous. They were living off the produce of the garden and such fish as could be caught from a small boat a short distance offshore. He hesitated to deprive his naiads of their dip in the ocean, and yet the possibility that a U-boat might appear, a U-boat such as the one undoubtedly in the neighborhood which had recently sunk a fisherboat, made him tremble with rage. His military experience as a youth had acquainted him with the behavior of licentious soldiers in garrison towns and of libidinous seamen in port, and he was certain that these new undersea sailors would be the worst of the lot. He forbade his daughters the shore.

      For a while they moped, and then the eyes of five young ladies, deprived of all outlet for their animal energy, confined to croquet on the lawn and the few Graustarkian novels around the house, grew dreamy as they trailed around in vaporous silences, and started abruptly when spoken to in a loud voice for the second time. My grandfather guessed that the young ladies in confinement were allowing their thoughts to dwell too closely on their own nubility, and that the swelling buds of late spring were shaping their thoughts in a romantic way.

      He gave orders, and soon there was a great bustling around the house and the home farm, where the wheels of old carts were gathered together and timbers cut and nailed. When the young ladies learned that their father was going to build bathing machines on wheels their joy knew no bounds and they went every day to see how the work progressed. At last the bathing huts were ready. There were six bathing machines in all, one for each girl and one for their governess. Grandfather told them that they might dip in the sea when the huts were drawn down to the beach, but that they must not swim even a few strokes into deeper water. This changed their schedule, for even my grandfather could not order full tide at the appointed time, and his daughters were allowed to swim only when the tide was incoming, for then there was less danger of being swept out to sea.

      One day my mother was retiring into her machine after frolicking in the waves, when she noticed how the sun warmed the boards of her little cabin on wheels, which was almost afloat. The door opened seaward and she had been told, as indeed her sisters had been also, to close it carefully before removing as much as one black stocking, for Grandfather still feared the inquisitive periscopes. What nonsense, she thought, leaving the door open. No one can see me, not even Mademoiselle, and she removed her cap and let her hair fall to her waist. She became excited by the warm touch of the sun as she stepped out of her suit and stood at the open door, looking out at the waves. The black stockings suddenly appeared hateful to her, and she stripped them off too. She stretched luxuriously in the sun, for it seemed hotter on the boards when she lay down close to the tide that slapped the wood within an inch of her, and lapped at the top step of her cabin. Then, perhaps, she fell asleep.

      When her father attached the little donkey which drew the bathing machines up to the beach, he left hers until the last, for she always took the longest time to dress. Her sisters, Mademoiselle the governess, and dear papa, were all waiting on the beach, and they found her naked as Andromeda chained to her rock, lying with her eyes half-closed on the damp floor of the little house on wheels. Mademoiselle shrieked and said that she had undoubtedly fainted from the sun, but she smiled as she lay there and continued to smile as they helped her toward the house.

      They took her home to put her to bed, but she never got there that afternoon, for my grandfather ordered them all locked up in the old nursery, and they fluttered up the dark staircase in their white dresses, Mademoiselle chasing close behind, followed by the eyes of five young British officers who had come to take over the island.

      Apparently, treacherous Mademoiselle had written to the authorities in London, saying that Grandfather thought of nothing but submarines. The authorities had drawn their own conclusions, and had decided to send a garrison to the island to dispossess him. Grandfather’s worst fears were thus realized. Young men, young officers. Here they were, quartered in the house, in close contact with his daughters. It was unthinkable.

      The young ladies were greatly excited, and spent the rest of the afternoon making spit curls, for they knew that they could not be locked up forever. But my mother sat in the window with that same little smile playing about her lips, and the window looked out to sea.

      Of course they all went down to dinner, and of course they flirted with the young officers, and