Presents From the Deep

Wednesday. December. The land people are buying each other presents and asking me for ideas, as if I had ever set foot in a shop.

I have one idea, and it is the correct one. The management sells vouchers on its website, and a voucher puts the lucky recipient aboard my Nautilus or on my hunt for the Beast. It suits the scuba diver who has seen everything, the uncle who reads old adventure novels and anybody who has ever stood in front of an aquarium for far too long.

I am also besieged by end-of-year parties. Fourteen accountants arrived on Monday wishing to sail together. The Nautilus carries eight. I divided them between my submarine and another room at the same hour, and they reconciled the two halves over dinner, to the cent.

Barnacle asked for a present. I have given him a new mainspring. He has not stopped moving since.