Silver by Andrew Motion

adventure, but – until that time – think of him no more than was absolutely necessary. How well I succeeded in this endeavour will appear in the pages following.
    The moment Natty awoke she gave a wide yawn that showed the pink inside of her mouth, and wiped her hands over her face. She then looked at me very boldly, as though refuting any accusation of having slept at all.
    Because this was our first experience of beginning a day together, we were shy of one another, and spent the next few moments in silence. But after we had splashed the Thames over our faces, reassured ourselves the tide was running in the direction we wished to proceed, rowed away from our mooring, travelled a mile or two upstream, eaten our breakfast at one of the inns that offered food to sailors and bargees and suchlike, and settled our plan for the day, we were comfortable again.
    The rest of our journey unfolded very easily. The strong propulsion of the river carried us swiftly back to Wapping. We safely escaped the traffic of merchant ships and barges to find a mooring where we wanted. We happily scrambled ashore and found a lane that led us directly to the Spyglass inn. The creaks and whispers of that building swept us rapidly up the stairs towards Mr Silver. By this time it was midday, and the haze of morning had long since burned away, leaving the sky as blue as a blackbird’s egg; when I opened the door, I was once again so dazzled by light from its large window, I actually shielded my eyes as if I were staring into the sun itself.
    Our host began speaking to me immediately, calling out myname in a high, imperious whisper: ‘Jim! Jim!’ I could not see him yet, being still blinded, but it was obvious from the direction of his voice that Mr Silver’s chaise longue had been moved into a different position since my last visit, and was now alongside the window. The change was a trifling thing, but enough to shake my confidence that I knew what to expect from my host.
    Indeed, when I had lowered my hand and blinked a few times, I saw Mr Silver was leaning so far towards me he had almost fallen onto the floor. Natty moved quickly to his side, and knelt to straighten him; his only response was to batter her lightly with feeble hands. Spot did not like being passed over by his mistress in this way, and began calling his name very angrily from his cage on the table, which convinced me that I should intervene. I went over to run my finger along his bars – whereupon he spluttered like an ancient and outraged gentleman, then fell silent.
    Now Mr Silver was settled again, he began hissing at his daughter. ‘Do you have it? Do you have it?’
    ‘We have it, Father,’ she interrupted. ‘We have it safe.’ As she said this, she beckoned for me to stand beside her. Mr Silver was wearing the same blue sailor’s coat and ragged trousers as yesterday, although his face was even more collapsed, if such a thing were possible. It was extraordinary to remember that my father had described him as looking ‘like a ham’.
    ‘Let me see it,’ he whispered, rolling his eyes feverishly to and fro in their sockets. ‘Let me hold it in my hands again.’
    I glanced at Natty, searching her face for a sign of what I should do, and again she acted for me, indicating that I should take the map from its hiding-place. It occurred to me as I did so that this would be the first time she had seen it herself. Whatever excitement she felt was well concealed, which I thought was proof of her trust in me.
    While I began to undo my shirt, Mr Silver clawed the air as hehad done during our previous visit. ‘And what of yourself, Father,’ Natty said gently, ignoring this. ‘What of yourself?’
    The old man did not reply. He merely clenched up his face like a fist so that all his wrinkles were emphasised, and looked at her with disdain. Natty affected not to notice, and ran her hand over his forehead. There was nothing more than goodness in the gesture, which was a