But before he can add new insults he is beaten senseless by the mongoloids who play his body like a drum in Libero's glory.

- On the ropes! – commands the captain and the very next moment a dozen wiry bodies  scurry up, ever up, sky high. Sails open to embrace the mild wind; nobody seems to notice the holes eaten by fat white moths whose silver wings glimmer in the air as they fall down on to the deck. Clever Clove picks up the insects, eating them for desert.

- Where are we going? – Even looks at Libero in expectation.

- Do we know which is the closest land? – Odd attempts to be more precise.

- To answer your question, Even – Libero glows with self-assurance – We are going to the closest land.

- Now to you, Odd – he then swings around to the other twin – be confident, I know which is the closest land. Don’t you worry, lads, everything is going to be just fine. The land which is promised to us would find us even if we’re not able to find it ourselves, and we are. Faith and hope never wander. I’m so happy that you are with me, all of you!

With this he turns away:


– Sibelius! Did you hear that, quick, write it down!

The Deliverance is bustling with activity, a commotion significantly dissimilar to the anarchic frenzy. At least the twins think so:

- Did you see, he spoke to us, like we are two people – Odd’s eyes glow with pride as Even tries to pretend that Libero’s act was a most natural occurrence – Of course, why shouldn’t he, aren’t we people like all the others…

The twin hesitates to finish the sentence: at least on this ship.

- Oh, no, no, no, no! – a comic lament  comes from the roped up barrels of provisions. As one of them bursts open, the stench of rotten sauerkraut plagues the deck.

- Malchick! – the twins recognize the stow-away.

- Sorry to see you, boys. I thought this infernal barrel was for sale, thought by dusk I’ll be safe, away from the circus! Guess now I am… – the gloomy stub-nosed dwarf looks at twins like it’s their fault. But Even and Odd are too overwhelmed to resent his harsh words. The warmth of the moment fills them up inside as they gaze at the bloodshot sunset. Carefully, Clove comes by to pick pieces of cabbage from dwarf’s hair.

The sea is a pot of...          - What's for lunch?