The Journey to the End of the World (Joel Gustafson Stories) by Henning Mankell Page B

gone out. Just for a little walk. I’ll find my way back.
    He put the note on the table. Then he opened the door quietly and slipped out. When he came to the lobby he found the bald man sitting on his chair, asleep. The street door was open. On the wall next to the desk was a large-scale map of Stockholm. Joel traced the way to Värtahamnen with his finger. It would take ages to walk there. He felt in his trouser pockets. He had nineteen kronor in there. He made up his mind on the spot. While Samuel was asleep, he would make his way to the harbour where the big ships were berthed.
    There was a bell on the desk.
    I’m staying in this hotel, Joel thought. We’re paying to live here.
    He smacked the bell with the palm of his hand – far too hard. It made a very loud clanging noise. The bald man gave a start and dropped his newspaper. He gave Joel a very dirty look.
    ‘It’s not necessary to break the bell. I’m sitting here after all.’
    Joel was a bit afraid and could feel himself blushing. That made him angry.
    ‘I want to know how to get to Värtahamnen,’ he said. ‘I gave the bell a light tap, but you didn’t wake up.’
    The bald man eyed Joel up and down suspiciously.
    He doesn’t believe me, Joel thought. He’ll throw us both out of his hotel.
    But the man behind the desk seemed to have forgotten about the bell already.
    ‘You need to take a tram to Ropsten,’ he said. ‘From Stureplan. Go all the way to the terminus.’
    The telephone rang. The man answered. Joel went to the map and found Stureplan. It wouldn’t take long to walk there.
    It was drizzling when Joel left the hotel. But it had stopped by the time he came to Stureplan. He soon found the tram stop. He didn’t have long to wait. He bought a ticket and found somewhere to sit. He got off when they came to the terminus. He could see that this was the right place. At the end of a long bridge to the left was a large cargo ship, its hatches open. Big mechanical scoops were digging down into the hold and coming up with something belching black dust. Coal, perhaps. Or possibly iron ore? Joel moved closer to it, so that he could read the name of the ship.
    MS Karmas.
    A gangway led from the ship to the quay. A man was leaning over the rail, smoking. He was wearing a chef’s hat. Joel was unable to venture as far as the quayside because it was fenced off.
    But the ship was berthed there even so. MS Karmas .
    Waiting for Samuel and Joel.
    He didn’t know how long he stood there, but in his mind’s eye he could see first Samuel and then himself walking up the gangway.
    Then he noticed with a start that somebody was standing beside him. It was an old man with long white hair, smoking a pipe. Joel noticed that the man had an anchor tattooed on his wrist.
    ‘So we’re standing here and dreaming, are we?’ said the man with a smile.
    He had hardly any teeth, but his smile was friendly.
    ‘I’m just looking,’ said Joel.
    ‘I think you’re picturing yourself walking up the gangway,’ said the man.
    Joel stared at him. How come that this man could read Joel’s thoughts?
    ‘You can always tell when somebody wants to be a sailor,’ said the man. ‘There’s some kind of magnet that attracts people who long to go to sea. Once upon a time I stood on a quay dreaming, just like you. In my case it was in Norrköping.’
    He knocked out his pipe and gave Joel a wink.
    ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘Joel.’
    ‘I’m known as Geegee. George Edward Edgar Gerald Everton Edwardsson. But that’s a bit of a mouthful, so people call me Geegee. Sailors and horses are very similar, really. When it comes to the bottom line.’
    ‘Are you a sailor?’ asked Joel hesitantly.
    ‘I used to be,’ said Geegee. ‘But I went ashore three years ago. After forty-five years. I thought it would be great back on land, but in fact there’s always something missing. So I come here to look at the ships. You stand here to dream