Beethoven and Bananas

A sterling tale of love, family, dishonour, murder, exploitation, and moral fibre.1

Part 12

About one hundred and fifty years ago large shipments of pianos departed from various harbours all over England for Australia. (Everyone in Australia wanted a piano, for it was a sign of quality.) One of these shipments, I don't know where it came from, was caught in a terrible storm. Water poured over the sides and the sailors frantically bailed. In desperation they hauled the pianos up onto the deck and, mustering all their strength threw them over the side.3

Two months later a salt encrusted, slightly rotten piano washed up on the shores of a tropical Island. Again, I don't know where this Island is, but it was one mile across and covered with trees, sand and bushes. Indeed, there was nothing very remarkable about this Island unless you count the fact that it was covered with small furry creatures that had long, flexible tails and could perch neatly on your shoulder; monkeys.4

They chattered to each other and wiggled their long silky tails as if to say "What is this strange object that is on OUR beach." And they knocked on it and chewed it and jumped up and down on it to see what would happen. After several minutes, (somehow several more holes appeared in these minutes,) the largest monkey, the leader, turned away and started to strut off into the undergrowth. The monkey next to it quickly latched onto his leader's tail before it whisked out of sight, the next monkey did the same, and so did the rest until there was a neat little line of monkeys trailing away out of sight. Soon, the piano was forgotten.5

After another few months, (in which the poor piano had been completely neglected) a small monkey skipped out of the forest towards the piano. He was called Martin (don't ask why) and had escaped from his mother who had been trying to wash behind his ears, where some cabbages lived a private life of their own. 6

Martin stared at the piano. He had only been a baby when it washed up, and therefore didn't remember it. Any normal monkey would have tested the piano’s capabilities as a trampoline, and got indigestion from sampling it as an edible item. Martin knew this, or rather he knew part of it. He knew that he ought to do something to it, something monkeyish, but, for some reason, he didn't. He walked calmly up to the gently rotting timber, lifted the lid, and slammed his eight fingers and two thumbs down on the keys. Hard. 7

The chord, or discord, shattered the peace on the Island and flocks of birds flew startled out of their trees. Martin blushed under his hair and looked around guiltily, expecting at any moment to have the tribe elders swing out of the trees above him, screeching sharp rebukes at him. When nothing happened he tried again, this time using only one finger, and placing it more gently on the key. “Plunk” went the note. It was out of tune, but just passable as a nice sound. 8

The little monkey jumped up and down on the soft sand, screeching with delight. He tried another note, “plank” it went. He tried another and another, getting quite excited. By the time he returned to his family that evening, he had built up a thorough knowledge of the sound each note made, including the one that went down and then wouldn't come back up again, and the black note that flew off and hit him on the nose. He didn't tell his family where he'd been, he just answered their questions evasively, saying he'd been “oh, you know somewhere on the Island.” But of course they didn't know, and he wasn't going to let them find out. Not just yet anyway.9

The next day he went back, and the next, and the next, and the next. He started to get quite accomplished, playing little tunes that he made up. This continued for a year, until he was almost grown up. His family wondered where he went off to all day, every day, but although he never answered their questions, he never seemed to come to any harm either. So they were content to let him be, and not to follow him or stop him going.10

One day he was practising a twiddly tune he had made up when he saw a group of monkeys laughing at him. They were a group from the other side of the Island, one of the new tribes that had formed in the last few months. The Island had only ever had one tribe, a large one that had lived peacefully for many years. But recently the elder had died, and, having had a long and prosperous life, it was unclear which of his many sons should be the new leader. Once a leader was chosen, the ones who hadn't been favoured left, taking all who were loyal to them. There were now four tribes across the island, and things were becoming very uncertain. Nobody knew if they were going to be attacked, or even if the fruit would last. As yet the old tribe was still too strong for any of the new tribes to attack individually, but if they ganged up...11

Martin decided to ignore the monkeys laughing at him and hope that they'd go away, but they didn't, they leapt towards him and he had to run for it. He made it to safety without much trouble, but when he returned to his piano several hours later it wasn't there. Instead there was a pile of splintered wood, broken strings and little ivory keys. Martin looked at the pile in blank incomprehension, then he realised. He sat down on the sand and cried until he thought his little heart would burst, he felt like he had nothing in the world, without music his life was not worth living.12

Part 213

Martin sulked for the following two months. At the beginning he continued to travel to the beach every day, but then the other tribes started to get increasingly hostile, attacking any monkey who was out by himself. His parents forbade him going anywhere without company. 14

One day, late in the evening, Martin was hungry, and went to the nearest fruit tree, stepping carefully over his family sleeping on the ground. Suddenly his ears pricked as he heard coming through the trees a tinkling noise, and lots of laughing and voices. All thought of fruit and hostile tribes went out of Martin’s head, and he set off at a run for the beach, where the magical sounds were coming from. When he found the source of the noise he pinched himself to be sure he wasn't dreaming. There, in the sea was a gigantic lump of steel, with small round holes in the side and large tunnels on the top. Martin had never seen a ship, and although ships had been described to him by some of the tribe they had only seen small wooden things. This was one of the earliest pleasure cruisers, on a trip with only the wealthiest of England on board as passengers.15

Martin could never decide what came over him in that hour and he looked back on it later as being under a trance. Without any thoughts of family, or what he'd do for food, or whether the creatures on board were friendly, he leapt into the sea and swam out towards the boat. After searching a bit he found a ladder leading up, and from there it was easy to find an open window and jump in. He found himself in a large room with red velvet wallpaper and a red plush carpet. At the far end was a stage with a piano, the piano was being played by a man with a moustache, and singing was a woman in an dark blue dress, her chestnut hair tumbling down her back to her waist.16

For the next two hours Martin sat crouched behind some food displays, occasionally helping himself to some fruit. Finally the last person left and Martin tentatively knuckled over to the piano, seating himself on the padded stool. He reached out and began to play one of his favourite pieces, one about the sun glistening on the water and the little animals scurrying over the sand. The tune rang out through the room, Martin was surprised, he was familiar with the clanking notes of his out of tune piano. Besides, the beach hardly had brilliant acoustics, the piano he had played there had sounded like gurgling mud. Compared to that, this piano was like a cold, fresh spring bubbling out over the stones of a mountain.17

Martin played one tune after another, immersed in the soul of the music, oblivious to all around him. He didn't notice the woman who had been singing creeping into the room, so when he finally stopped playing the applause gave him a fright. Until this day he had never seen a human, but he knew instantly that this one was very beautiful, and when he looked into her kind eyes, he saw in them the rolling blue of the sea, with the gleam of the sun on the waves.18

They stayed like that, just looking at each other, for what to Martin seemed like forever, and yet it was not long enough. Finally she bent down to pick him up in her warm, soft arms, and carried him back to her room. Martin basked in her glow, and smelled her musky scent, and from that moment he knew, without a shadow of a doubt that he was completely and inexorably in love.19

The next few weeks were a delirious blur for Martin. He was petted and admired by all the ladies, and of course he played for the company. Soon he learned to play the music that the gentleman with the moustache played, and then the beautiful woman would accompany him with her voice. One day Martin heard a conversation between the beautiful woman and the gentleman with the moustache. He didn't understand all the words, but he understood the most of the meaning, and it made him think.20

“I say, only one week till we’re back in England, what are you planning on doing with that little chimp of yours?” asked the gentleman with the moustache.21

“Why, I shall keep him of course, he can keep me amused.” Replied the beautiful woman, powdering her nose.22

“Surely though that is a waste of talent. People would pay hundreds to see a piano playing monkey.”23

“Indeed, I had not thought of that.”24

“Yes, you and him together would be quite an act.”25

“No, I think not, it sounds like far too much work. You know that I intend to take a rest from singing once we're married.”26

“But darling, this would not be hard work. All you would have to do is sing, I would handle the publicity.”27

“I'll think about it. Now please leave my suite, we are not married yet, and it would be terrible if people started to spread rumours.”28

“You are right my dear, as always. It is fortuitous that only Bananas there has seen us, and he can't talk. He should be thankful for that; if he could talk I would have to cut out his tongue.” And with that elegant parting riposte the gentleman with the moustache left the room.29

Martin stared after him, he now knew that the gentleman with the moustache was not to be trusted. He didn't realise that the gentleman with the moustache and the beautiful lady were engaged, but he decided that she needed to be protected from him. She was on the bed now, crying. She didn't want to marry him, but she came from a poor family and thought marrying a rich man was her only way out. He was very rich, but he always wanted more money. She wasn't going to let him put her monkey on stage in front of thousands of people, and she would tell him so directly. The beautiful woman stood up and dried her eyes, then swept out of the room. Martin thought for a moment before following her; he could sense something brewing in the air, he didn't know what it was, but he wasn't going to let anything happen to the beautiful woman.30

Part 331

He was too late. He wandered through the carpeted passages of the ship, jumping at every shadow. The first he heard of the beautiful woman and the man with the moustache was angry raised voices coming from the kitchen. He rushed in, but already the man with the moustache was standing over the beautiful woman, a long carving knife in one hand, blood was dripping from the blade. Then the man with the moustache dropped the knife and ran from the room crying “Murder, murder in the kitchen!”32

Martin didn't, couldn't, believe it. First his piano, now the only woman he'd truly loved. Throwing himself down onto the beautiful woman's chest he again began to cry, the old wound of the demolished piano was ripped open and started to bleed fresh blood. The sound of loud voices and heavy feet came thundering down the corridor, led by the man with the moustache. 33

“There he is, he murdered her, I saw it!” the man with the moustache cried, and that's what it looked like, the monkey was lying there, covered in the beautiful woman's blood. Of course even if he could understand what was being said he could say nothing to defend himself. He numbly allowed himself to be lifted to his feet, but when they tried to take him away he started to bite and scratch. He didn't want to leave her, he just wanted to die and join her in heaven. He had failed in his self-appointed task to protect her, and now he was worthless. No, not worthless. He could still do one thing, he could take revenge on the man with the moustache. With that thought his emotions all became too confusing for him, and overcome with exhaustion he passed out, and was dragged away.34

Several hours later he came to in a small room with only one window. Two men were staring at him, they were talking to each other in low, sinister voices. “Look at him, he's vicious, covered in blood, I say we kill him,” said the first man.35

“I agree, you can't have mad animals running loose on a ship, who knows who he'll kill next,” the second man said. “But we'd better wait for the boss first, we don't want to get into trouble.” Just then the man with the moustache walked in through the door, his eyes were red where he had been rubbing them to make it look as if he had been crying. “I've been to the boiler rooms, they've got a cage that will be the right size for him.” He glared at the little monkey cowering on the table. “But wouldn't it be better to kill him?” asked the first man. “No,” explained the man with the moustache, “he is not to be harmed, his poor mistress,” (here he burst into a large fit of fake tears), “his poor mistress loved him like her son, I'm sure that this is what she would have wanted.”36

The guards nodded in sympathy, and one went downstairs with the man with the moustache to help bring the cage up. Soon Martin was safely stowed in the cage, which was far too small for him. He still wasn't responding to his surroundings, instead he was just staring into space, remembering all the happy times with the beautiful woman. Hours later the man with the moustache came into the room holding an armful of fruit. He sat down on the stool beside the cage, opening the door to put the fruit in. However he thought it unnecessary to relock it. It was just the two of them in the room now. The man with the moustache watched the monkey eat for a while, then began to talk.37

“That's right little chimp, you eat up, you're going to make me a lot of money. As soon as we get back to England you'll be playing the piano until your fingers bleed, and if you don't...” Here the man with the moustache gesticulated violently with his fist; words weren't necessary. “Those rich people will pay to see anything. Who knows, you might even be playing for the Queen. Beethoven and bananas, that will be your life for the rest of your days.” And he leered unpleasantly at Martin.38

Martin lifted up his head at the tone of voice, seeing the look in his eyes the man with the moustache started backwards; it was so desperate. Martin leapt out of his open cage and caught the man with the moustache full in the chest, making him stagger backwards through the door and out into the hallway. Coming the other way was a waiter carrying a large heavy jug of water. The man with the moustache fell to the floor, tripping the waiter so he dropped the jug, which hit the man with the moustache on the temple. Death was immediate. 39

Martin ran without looking back. Once on the top deck people attempted to stop him, but he scampered straight through their legs, tripping them so their heads knocked together. He dashed into one of the lifeboats, biting through the ropes that bound it to the ship. As the boat fell into the sea he looked up triumphantly at the row of faces watching him till he was out of sight. He breathed a deep breath; he was free.40

All that day and night he crouched on the floor of the little boat feeling sorry for himself. A storm blew up, and waves crashed against the side shaking the boat until the little monkey was bruised all over. But the following day he awoke from the cramped position he had dozed off in to blue sky and golden sand. 41

He tottered painfully out of his little craft, and wandered along the shore, looking in wonder at the fishermen staring at him, whispering to each other in French, for that was where he had washed up. He wandered around the little side streets of the town for a while and then stopped abruptly, a huge cathedral loomed up in front of him. Coming out of it's open doors was elaborate organ music. Yes, thought Martin as he stepped through the doors into the lavish interior, life was going to get better.42

The End43