Drowned World, The by Ballard J. G

Author:Ballard, J. G. [Ballard, J. G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Dystopia, Fantasy, Fiction, Novel, Sci-fi
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 1961-12-01T03:00:00+00:00

At one time, Kerans surmised, the depot ship had been a gambling steamer and floating vice den, moored beyond the five-mile limit outside Messina or Beirut, or in the shelter of some estuarine creek under the blander, more tolerant skies south of the equator. As they left the deck a squad of men were lowering an ancient ornamental gangway to the water’s edge, its banisters of peeling gilt shaded by a white clapboard marquee painted with gold tassels and drapery, creaking about on its pulleys like a funicular gazebo. The interior of the ship was decorated in a similar pastiche baroque. The bar, now dark and closed, at the forward end of the observation deck was like the stern castle of a ceremonial galleon, naked gilt caryatids supporting its portico. Semi-columns of fake marble formed little loggias that led away to the private alcoves and dining rooms, while the divided central stairway was a bad film set of Versailles, an aerial riot of dusty cupids and candelabra, the grimy brass overlayed with mould and verdigris.

But the former roulette wheels and chemin de fer tables had gone, and the scarred parquet flooring was covered with a mass of crates and cartons, piled up against the wire-mesh windows so that only a faint reflection of the light outside seeped through. Everything was well packed and sealed, but on an old mahogany chart table in one corner Kerans saw a collection of bronze and marble limbs and torsos, fragments of statuary waiting to be sorted.

Strangman paused at the bottom of the staircase, tearing off a strip of fading tempera from one of the murals. “The place is falling to bits. Hardly up to the standard of the Ritz, Doctor. I envy your good sense.”

Kerans shrugged. “It’s a low-rent area now.” He waited as Strangman unlocked a door, and they entered the main storehold, a dim stifling cavern packed with large wooden crates, the floor strewn with sawdust. They were no longer in the refrigerated section of the ship, and the Admiral and another sailor followed them closely, continually hosing them with ice-cold air from a faucet on the wall. Strangman snapped his fingers and the Admiral quickly began to pull away the canvas wrappings draped between the crates.

In the thin light Kerans could just see the glimmering outline of a huge ornamented altarpiece at the far end of the hold, fitted with elaborate scroll-work and towering dolphin candelabra, topped by a neo-classical proscenium which would have covered a small house. Next to it stood a dozen pieces of statuary, mostly of the late Renaissance, stacks of heavy gilt frames propped against them. Beyond these were several smaller altar-pieces and triptychs, an intact pulpit in panelled gold, three large equestrian statues, a few strands of sea-weed still entwined in the horses’ manes, several pairs of enormous cathedral doors, embossed in gold and silver, and a large tiered marble fountain. The metal shelves around the side of the hold were loaded with smaller bric-à-brac: votive urns, goblets, shields and salvers, pieces of decorative armour, ceremonial inkstands and the like.

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