Evan S Connell - El Dorado and Other Pursuits

Contents

Evan S. Connell explores the quixotic obsession with the new, the hidden, the unattainable that burns in an individuals soul.

Each essay is an extraordinary account of passionate pursuit by legendary explorers, visionaries, and seekers compelled by a singular desire. Here we find Marco Polo, El Dorado, Paracelsus, Columbus, the thousands of children in the Innocents Crusade, Magellan, Mary Kingsley (a Victorian naturalist, ethnologist, sailor, scholar, and guest of cannibals), and Ibn Batuta (an indefatigable explorer of the fourteenth century whose travels in the Arab world and beyond made the journey of Marco Polo look like a stroll around the block).

Theres no end to the list, of course, Connell adds, because gradually it descends from such legendary individuals to ourselves when, as children, obsessed by that same urge, we got permission to sleep in the backyard.

Evan S. Connell, long recognised as one of the most important American literary voices, is the author of seventeen books, including Mrs. Bridge, Mr. Bridge, the bestselling Son of the Morning Star, his account of Custers final battle at the Little Big Horn, and Deus lo Volt! (both available in Pimlico). He lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the authors and publishers rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Version 1.0

Epub ISBN 9781473520837

www.randomhouse.co.uk

Published by Pimlico 2002

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

Copyright 1979 by Evan S. Connell, Jr. Originally published under the title A Long Desire, by Holt, Rinehart and Winston

Portions of this book first appeared in The Atlantic and Harpers, to whom acknowledgement is made. Excerpts from Richard Halliburton, His Story of His Lifes Adventure, copyright 1940 by Bobbs-Merrill Co., copyright renewed 1968. Reprinted by permission of Bobbs-Merrill Co., Inc.
Excerpts from The Alchemist by Hans Holzer, copyright 1974 by Hans Holzer. Reprinted by permission of Stein & Day Publishers.

First published in the United States of America by Holt, Rinehart and Winston, New York 1979
First published in Great Britain by Pimlico 2002

Random House
20 Vauxhall Bridge Road,
London SW1V 2SA

Addresses for companies within The Random House Group Limited can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk/offices.htm

The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009
www.randomhouse.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 9780712668170

The soul has many motions,
many gods come and go.

D. H. Lawrence

IN 1939, WHEN Richard Halliburton tried to cross the Pacific in a Chinese junk, I was a fourteen-year-old stamp collector. Never doubting that he would make it, I paid something like $1.50 to have him deliver a commemorative envelope. It seems to me that he was supposed to initial the envelope, or hand-cancel the stamp, or otherwise authenticate each letter he was carrying. I may be wrong, its been a while; but I clearly remember how I felt when I heard that the junk was overdue. I felt annoyed and resentful. I wanted my commemorative envelope. And when, finally, there could be no doubt that the junk was lost at sea I felt I had been swindled. I was nominally sorry for the people on the junk and I spent a little time wondering what happened, but I could not get over feeling peevish that my envelope was not going to arrive. In fact I thought there might be a chance the junk would be found and the cargo rescued. I remember being uncomfortable with this attitude, nevertheless it was so; Halliburtons life, I could not deny, meant less to me than a letter he was carrying.

Now, having had some years to reflect upon it, I find that still I am not proud of my reaction; but I have concluded also that I am no more inhuman than most. A trifle, perhaps, if you insist. But this isnt the point. The point is that when Halliburton vanished I realized for the first time that certain people do not travel the way most of us travel; not only do they sometimes choose odd vehicles, they take dangerous and unusual trips for incomprehensible reasons.

I dont think I wondered why he wanted to cross the Pacific in a tiny boat. He did such things. He climbed the Matterhorn and swam the Hellespont and slept beside the Taj Mahal and so on. That was Richard Halliburton. It was why everybody, boys especially, knew his name. The Royal Road to Romance was one of our classics, along with Kidnapped, White Fang, The Call of the Wild, and some unforgettable epics by Zane Grey which I have forgotten. So his trip made sense; it was altogether logical that he would set out on an utterly insane voyage across the worlds largest ocean in a boat designed for sailing up and down the coast.

He himself had no doubts. In a letter to his parents dated September 10, 1938, he wrote: Dad, if I could talk to you about the junk trip, Im sure you would lose all your hesitation over it. Never was an expedition so carefully worked out for safety measures. Ive a wonderful captain and engine and engineer

Two weeks later he wrote: The name? I chose that long agothe Sea Dragon. On the day of launching, the prettiest Chinese girl whom I can find will break a bottle of rice wine on the Sea Dragons nose. And as the junk slides down the ways well beat gongs and shoot off firecrackers, in proper Chinese fashion, to drive away the demons of storm and shipwreck Well leave China early in January and reach Treasure IslandGod willingthe middle of March.

December 12, 1938: I have complete faith in the captain and the engineer, and feel certain that well arrive without the slightest mishapexcept a lot of seasickness.

January 1, 1939: Ive lost none of my enthusiasm, and none of my confidence.

In a newspaper article he described how the ship was painted:

The hull is a brilliant Chinese red, edged at the rail with bands of white and gold. The glance of the eyes is black. On either side of the poop a Chinese artist has painted a ferocious red and yellow dragon twenty feet long, not counting the curves! Our foresail has been dyed yellow; the mizzensail, vermilion On the Sea Dragons stern, the central section is brilliant with a huge painting of a phoenixthe Chinese good-luck bird.

Well be twelve aboard, all American: the captain, engineer, radioman, seven seamen including myself, a cook and a cabinboy. And because one solitary mascot would make the total thirteen, which superstitious seamen regard with horror, were taking along two mascotsa pair of white Chinese kittens. This means that the Sea Dragon will be responsible for twelve souls and (counting the cats) thirty lives.

In late January came the shakedown cruise. He notified his parents that there were a few defects to be corrected, and that the junk sailed slowly, very deep in the water. He did not sound concerned.

Early in February the Sea Dragon left Hong Kong.

Two days out during a storm one of the crewmen fell down a hatch and broke an ankle. Another ruptured himself. Halliburton ordered the captain, John Welch, to return to port.