Limbo Lodge (2 page)

“Besides, I know a friend of the old gager, Lord Herodsfoot,” she pointed out. “Might be useful, that, if he’s a bit toffee-nosed or awkward—”

“A friend? How can
you
know any friend of Lord Herodsfoot, child?” snapped Captain Hughes.

“It was Mr Holystone. Your last steward who – who left the ship at Tenby. He’d been at college with Lord Herodsfoot. In Spain.”

“Oh. Well. Humph. I see.” Captain Hughes reflected a while longer, then had Second Lieutenant Multiple summoned to his cabin.

“Mr Multiple, I have decided to send you with young Miss Twite on the
Siwara
to the island of Aratu, in hopes that you will be able to make contact with Lord Herodsfoot there, and bring him back with you in a few days.”

Mr Multiple, a cheerful, fresh-faced young man, only recently promoted from the rank of midshipman, and still very conscious of his second-lieutentant’s uniform, saluted and grinned shyly.

“Aye, aye, sir! Very happy to oblige.” He and young Miss Twite exchanged friendly nods. “Only thing is, sir, I think I ought to mention, I ain’t so handy at those confounded foreign lingoes – Portugoose and Angrianese and so on – can’t make shift to get my tongue round ’em, somehow.”

“Oh,” said Captain Hughes, a trifle nonplussed. “I – er – I don’t suppose
you
can speak those languages, Miss Twite?”

“Yes I can,” she replied unexpectedly. “When I used to clean the table silver for Mr Holystone, on the passage down from Bermuda to Tenby, he used to teach me a bit of Spanish and Portugoosy. And Angrian. On account of he’d been to college in those lands. He said you never know when another language may come in handy; and the more you know, the more you can pick up.”

“What about Dilendi?”

“Well, I do know jist a few sentences,” Dido confessed, “jist to say ‘Where is the Public Library?’ and ‘I wish to rent a palanquin’ and ‘Do you play fan-tan?’ – things like that.”

“Who in the
world
taught you those?”

“Mo-pu.”

Mo-pu was the captain’s cook, who had been taken on at Easter Island (the former cook, Mr Brandywinde, having died from drinking five gallons of neat grog in quick succession).

Captain Hughes snapped: “It is not at all proper that you, a young female passenger on this vessel, should fraternise with my cook. I do
not
approve.”

Dido sighed, but kept quiet. “However,” the Captain went on, “in the circumstances it has apparently had some advantages. You had best teach those phrases to Mr Multiple before you dock at the port of Regina. Thank you. You may leave the cabin now.”

They did so, not daring to dig each other in the ribs with joy until they were safely on deck.

“It’ll be like a holiday, Mr Mully. Shore leave!”

“Of course,” he pointed out, “we may come across Lord Herodsfoot the very first minute we set foot on shore.”

“Ay, that’s so.”

But after they had spent a few days on the
Siwara
, and had learned about the cockroaches and pearl-snakes and creatures called sting-monkeys, Dido and Mr Multiple grew less enthusiastic about their excursion to the island of Aratu, and began to hope that they might find Lord Herodsfoot as quickly as possible and return to the comforts of H.M.S.
Thrush
.

They did, however, make great friends with another passenger on the
Siwara
from whom they learned a great deal more about the island. Their new friend was the youthful Dr Talisman van Linde, a slight, dark young fellow who came aboard the same day they did, at Amboina. At first they had taken him for the ship’s doctor, when one of the sailors, throwing breadfruit peelings overboard, got bitten by a shark, and Doctor Talisman swiftly and capably bound up the wound, dressing it first with hot tar.

But when they fell into talk they found that, like themselves, the young doctor had shipped aboard for the purpose of visiting Aratu, which he had apparently always wished to see.

“
Why
, in mussy’s name?” asked Dido. “It don’t seem to have much, except pearl-snakes and sting-monkeys and a pesky lot of spices.”

“You see, I was born on the island,” said Doctor Talisman. “I’ve always wanted to come back and see the place.”

“Oh, well, that’s different then,” said Mr Multiple.

“How old was you when you left?” asked Dido.

“Five. I don’t remember anything – except wonderful sweet, sweet scents everywhere.”

“Different from this ship then. Your ma and pa take you away?”

“No. I fell from a cliff into the sea – but I happened to land on the deck of a passing ship.”

“Fancy! Why didn’t they put you ashore at the next port?”

“Ah, well, you see,” explained Dr Talisman, “there’s a volcano under the sea, Mount Ximboë, about a hundred miles south of Aratu. It erupts, every couple of months, under the sea, and that sends a huge wall of water rushing north past the island. It is called the Ximboë bore.”

“Croopus,” said Dido, impressed. “What a lot you know, Doc Tally.”

“So that any ships that get caught in the bore are mostly obliged to race past the island without stopping. And the ship I was picked up by – a Dutch trader – I fell into a pile of nets on deck, I wasn’t hurt at all – there was no way of their heaving to, they got carried on a couple of hundred miles. Then a man who was a passenger on the ship, a Dutch travelling scientist, he took a fancy to me and adopted me. He thought that by that time my parents must have given me up and be sure that I was dead.”

“So you never got back at all?”

“Never.”

“Why?”

“Well, the man who adopted me – Count van Linde – happened to be a great believer in luck.”

“Luck?”

“As well as a scientist he was a gambler. He paid for his scientific trips by his gambling wins. And on the first island where the ship put in, after picking me up, he bought a basket of oysters from a fisherman and found in one of them a black pearl as big as a cherry. It was worth a fortune and paid for the whole voyage. So the Count decided that I brought him luck. That was why he adopted me and called me Talisman.”

“What does that mean?” asked Dido, who had never come across the word.

“A talisman is a thing – like a stone or charm – that you carry about to bring you good fortune or protect you from harm. It is all connected with stars and astral signs.”

“Well I never! So you stayed with the Count?”

“I did, yes, till I grew up. He used to spend his winters in Europe, going to towns where there were casinos – gaming houses where they played with cards or dice – and he always won. His luck was amazing.”

“So he was rich?”

“Oh, very rich. He only had to bet on a number – or a horse – and it was sure to win. Every autumn we used to go to a town in Hanover called Bad Szomberg where there were hot springs, healing waters, and a grand gaming house. In one month there he would win enough money to keep us comfortably for a year.”

“Cor!”

“When he had made enough for his travels he would set off again, and then he sent me to school, and to college, and medical school, because I wanted to be a doctor. But I went on many of his trips as well.”

“Where is he now?” asked Mr Multiple.

“He is dead,” said the doctor sadly. “When we went to Szomberg last winter, he walked out by the waterfall late at night – there is a huge hot waterfall behind the casino – and he was found next morning, stabbed through the heart. They never found out who did it.”

“So his luck ran out,” said Dido thoughtfully.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. For the very next day I heard that the bank where he kept his winnings had crashed, and the money was gone.”

“Well I’ll be bothered! So what did you do then?”

“Oh, I can always earn my living as a doctor. I have finished my studies. Perhaps I will go to London later on.”

“Ah, London’s a fine town,” agreed Dido. “Ain’t it, Mr Mully? That’s where I come from, and shan’t I be glad to get back, jist! – So what in tarnation are you doing out here at the back of nowhere in the Kalpurnian Sea?”

Talisman said: “I thought that, before starting to work as a doctor, I’d come back to Aratu and see if I could find my real parents. There can’t have been
so
many children, twenty years ago, who fell off a cliff into the sea. Aratu is quite a small island.”

“That’s so. We reckon to find old Lord Herodsfoot easy enough. I guess your ma and pa ’ud be main pleased to know you ain’t drownded, but safe and well.”

She thought of her own story – shipwrecked off a Scottish island, picked up by a Nantucket whaler, carried across half the oceans of the world without any chance to inform her family that she was still alive – how astonished they would be when she finally arrived home! But pleased? Dido shrugged and turned her attention to the doctor, who was going on:

“One reason why I was so keen to visit Aratu was that my adopted father the Count made a friend on some of our gambling visits to Bad Szomberg – a man who came from Aratu. This man used to tell me about the place, and taught me a bit of the language. His stories made me curious to come back. It’s a strange place. Angrians still live in the town – the people who came from Europe so long ago. They are very stern and gloomy. Women aren’t allowed in the streets of Regina – not until their hair is white. Not unless their faces are veiled or wrapped in leaves.”

“Great fish! Why ever not?”

“I am not sure. There is a king – called King John.”

“Did this man – your friend – what was his name?”

“Roy – Manoel Roy.”

“Did he know who your parents might be?”

Mr Multiple put this question. He had sat silent through most of Doctor Talisman’s story, watching and listening with great attention.

“No, he said he had never heard of a small child being lost in such a way. But he has been away from Aratu many times. Like my foster father, he loved to gamble. But he did not enjoy such good luck as the Count. He mostly lost.” Doctor Talisman glanced along the deck and said, “Here comes Captain Sanderson. I must remind him to take his quinine.”

The doctor, who had been sitting cross-legged, rose in one swift, smooth movement and strolled to meet the Captain; picking a casual, easy path among all the coils of rope and belaying-pins, canvas buckets, fishing nets, and pots of tar and other obstacles that littered the deck.

“Dido,” said Mr Multiple in a low voice when the doctor was out of earshot, “did it ever strike you that there’s something rum about the doc?”

“Rum?” said Dido. “Why yes. If you mean what I think—”

Her words were interrupted by a sudden yell of warning from the rigging. One of the men was aloft just above them on the yardarm trimming the sail – and at this moment he dropped something that winked in the sun as it fell, then landed with a crack exactly on the crown of Multiple’s head. His skull was protected, to some extent, by his hat, but even so the blow could be clearly heard, and Multiple toppled as if he had been shot, and lay motionless on the deck.

“Murder!” exclaimed Dido. “Doc Talisman! Come quick! Mr Mully’s copped a fourpenny one – he’s out cold.
Quick
, come and help him!”

The doctor came running back, with Captain Sanderson close behind. The sailor who had been up above in the rigging now scrambled down, blubbering out words of apology.

“Misery, misery me! a hundred thousand sorrows! That such a mishap should mishappen!”

“Oh, be quiet, you silly lubberkin!” snapped Captain Sanderson. “What good does that do, yelling out woe, woe? What was that thing ye dropped on the poor lad?”

“Was my
wedhoe
.”

The sailor began searching distractedly round the deck, finally found what he was looking for and pounced on it with a cry of relief and joy. “Aha! my wedhoe!”

“What is that thing? Let’s see it?” said the doctor, who had been cautiously investigating the wound on Mr Multiple’s head. “Saints save us, that’s heavy! What is it made of, copper?”

“How would I tell?” said the sailor, a tiny wizened man named Pepe. “It is my wedhoe. Keep me safe from harm.”

“Didn’t keep poor Mr Multiple safe from harm,” snapped the doctor, frowning over the trickle of blood that ran from the unconscious lieutenant’s injured head. “Captain Sanderson, this wound is serious. The man’s skull may be cracked. His brain may be injured. He needs urgent medical attention – more than I can provide, here on this ship. Or he may very well die.”

“Och, mercy on us! Ye don’t say so?”

“But I do say so. There may be damage to the brain. Is there a hospital on Aratu?”

“Ay,” said the Captain doubtfully. “There is one. But I wouldna be guessing that the level of medical skill is inco high in that place – ‘tis only a wee island after all. Should we not put back to Amboina?”

“Five days’ sailing? No, the boy could die before we got there. There may be internal bleeding also.”

“Och, havers!” said the Captain disgustedly. “And he was faring up to be a right decent sensible young fellow. What in the world will I ever tell Captain Hughes when we get back to Amboina? Ye think he can be saved?”

“With luck.”

Luck, thought Dido sadly, looking after her friend as, under Doctor Talisman’s orders, two sailors carried Multiple off to his hammock. I reckon you’re the best chance of that for him, Doctor Lucky Talisman.

“What time do we get to Aratu, Cap?” she asked Sanderson.

“Around dawn, Miss Twite. I have given orders to cram on all sail, as the winds are light.”

Dido slept badly that night, curled up against a coil of rope on the foredeck. Her dreams were full of outsize pearl-snakes and sting-monkeys; also the same dream, over and over, of searching for her friend Mr Multiple in a house that belonged to her but had been occupied by other people, cruel people; the house was in a distant corner of some city, and the streets were dark and silent, and she had lost the front door key; and then when she did get into the house she knew that it was full of enemies, though she could not see them or hear them; she tiptoed up the narrow crooked stairs to the room where Mr Multiple might be sleeping, but he was not there, and she did not dare call his name aloud for fear the wrong people might hear and come after her . . .