The Perilous Journey (13 page)

“I wondered if you were about to fall asleep,” Constance murmured, “but I didn’t know why I thought that.”

Mr. Benedict smiled. “No doubt you noticed something familiar about my expression — something others wouldn’t see. Leaving aside explanations for now, let us focus on one thing only, which is that you
can
know things if only you’ll allow yourself. Can you agree to do that? Just for a moment?”

Constance hesitated, then nodded. “I’m not sure what you mean… but fine, I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” said Mr. Benedict. “While I have your complete attention, then, I’ll speak frankly. I have something I want to say to you, and I want you to keep looking at me as I say it. Are you ready?”

Constance braced herself. Her heart was skipping inside her chest, for she had no idea what was coming. “I’m ready.”

“Then what I want to say is this: Every person in this family loves you. Rhonda loves you, Number Two loves you, and I love you. We already consider you as much a part of our family as any of us, and we would do anything — no, we
will
do anything —”

Mr. Benedict’s eyes closed before he could finish his sentence, and he slumped forward onto the table, upsetting Constance’s cereal bowl and spilling milk onto the folders and charts.

“Oh dear,” Number Two said, hastening to soak up the spill with her shirt sleeve before it ran into Mr. Benedict’s hair. “I should have seen that coming.”

Constance was blinking in amazement — because she
had
seen it coming. Just before Mr. Benedict fell asleep, the thought “Here he goes now” had flashed into her mind. Mr. Benedict was right. She
could
know certain things…

“I hope you realize he meant it,” said Number Two. Despite her brusque tone — or perhaps because of it — Constance could tell she’d been touched by Mr. Benedict’s words.

“I do,” said Constance, recalling the feeling of certainty she’d had while Mr. Benedict was speaking. “At least… I mean, I think I do.”

“Good. You should. And now for heaven’s sake, are you going to help me clean this up or do you mean to just sit there and watch?”

Constance slowly broke into a grin — she was feeling very happy all of a sudden — and said exactly what Number Two had expected her to say, which was that she did indeed mean to just sit there and watch.

Lying in her bunk in the
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remembering the events of that morning, Constance felt every bit as sad now as she had felt happy then. She had no idea where she came from and no idea where she might be headed. In what little she could remember of her life, the only constant thing — the thing she depended on above all — had been Mr. Benedict’s presence. And now she had lost even that. Constance sniffled as quietly as she could.

Reynie knelt beside her bunk. “They’re going to be all right.”

“How do you know?” said Constance, rubbing her stinging eyes. “How do you know that awful man hasn’t already done terrible things to them? How do you know they’re not… not…”

“I just do,” Reynie said, and Constance realized that he was speaking with a conviction he didn’t actually feel. But it was something, anyway, to hold onto, and she gazed at him with as much hopefulness as she could muster.

“I just do,” Reynie said again, and both of them hoped with all their hearts that he was right.

The hours crawled by as the children waited for Captain Noland. With the exception of one brief spell during which Cannonball thought it safe to allow them on deck (it was raining and the company owners were all below), they’d spent the entire time confined to their cramped quarters. Nor had their appearance on deck, during which they were compelled to hold a tarpaulin over their heads to keep the rain off, proved to be anything like a pleasant diversion. At least it hadn’t lasted long: there’d been time enough for Constance to compose a rhyming complaint about bullfrogs and tarp hogs (by which she meant the boys, whom she accused of crowding her); time enough for the boys to observe how much more miserable a cold wet night could be made by a poetic companion in a foul mood; and time enough for Kate to summon Madge from the bridge tower and smuggle her down to Cannonball’s cabin (a courtesy Cannonball insisted upon, since their own cabin was so crowded) — but all of this took less than five minutes. Afterward the children had retreated belowdecks, and since then had done nothing but wait.

Constance had finally given up and dozed off, while in the bunk above her, Sticky sat with his feet dangling over the edge, absently rubbing his scalp (which had begun to feel sandpapery with new stubble) and expounding — rather too loudly and at great length — upon modern ocean vessels. Initially Sticky had limited his speech to what he’d read in the newspapers about the
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but once he’d exhausted that topic he had expanded to include all things nautical.

Reynie lay in the other top bunk, propped on an elbow, thinking less about structural innovations than about his friend’s recent tendency to show off. It used to be that Sticky couldn’t bear to be looked at or listened to. Now it seemed the opposite was true, and the effect was more than a little tiresome. Even a naturally curious person like Reynie disliked hearing lectures that hadn’t been asked for. Reynie yawned and stretched — then glanced down at Kate, wondering how she was bearing up. Kate was as good-natured as could be, but she’d also been cooped up for hours. She was sitting on the floor with her legs elaborately crossed and intertwined (in what for most people would be an excruciating position), making sure her bucket’s contents were properly secured. By Reynie’s count she’d done this five times already, and he suspected she was tolerating Sticky’s speech by ignoring it.

At that very moment, however, the speech drew to a sudden, unexpected close, and Sticky — mumbling something indistinct about having a rest — turned onto his side to face the bulkhead. He was burning with embarrassment, for it had just sunk in to him how long he’d been talking and how pompous he must have sounded.

Sticky would have found such behavior distasteful in another person, and indeed it was a far cry from how he used to act. Lately, though, he couldn’t seem to help himself. It was hard to resist the pleasure he felt when others were impressed by him — and they did so often seem impressed. (Cannonball’s exuberant demonstrations of approval, for instance, had made Sticky feel positively rapturous.) And yet, when his efforts fell flat — when he bored people to death or, worse, when he was proven wrong — he either flew out in anger or withered in humiliation. He envied Reynie’s calm, imperturbable manner, to say nothing of Kate’s unshakable bravado and good cheer. Even Constance inspired some jealousy, for at least
she
had an excuse for her behavior. Sticky covered his face with his pillow. Was he really jealous of a three-year-old? There must be something seriously wrong with him.

There wasn’t anything seriously wrong with Sticky, though. The truth, which Sticky didn’t quite understand, was that pride was a new feeling for him — something he’d rarely experienced before last year’s mission — and it was simply taking some getting used to.

“Look who’s awake,” said Reynie, who had noticed Constance blinking her eyes and looking around with a disturbed expression. “It’s okay, Constance. You dozed —”

“Someone’s coming!” Constance hissed. Her tone was so unnerving that Reynie and Sticky sat bolt upright, and Kate sprang up into a defensive crouch.

“Easy, Constance,” Reynie said, his heart racing. “You must have been dreaming. You’re safe here with —”

A knock sounded at the door. They all froze.

“Hello?” a man’s voice called. It was Captain Noland.

Kate looked wonderingly at Constance. “How did you… ? Never mind, we’ll talk about it later.” She opened the door.

Captain Noland stood in the passage holding a small chest. His face was drawn with fatigue, but he gave the children a friendly smile as he came in. “Well, my friends, I regret the circumstances — I’d hoped to entertain you in my own cabin — but regardless, I’m pleased to join you at last. How are you enjoying the
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? She’s a mighty fast ship, isn’t she?”

As the children responded with polite enthusiasm, the captain knelt to open the chest. It was tidily packed with a miniature folding table, a serving tray, a coffee pot and coffee cups, a bottle of cream, and two tins of sweets. Captain Noland set up the table and laid out the treats, and Reynie and Sticky climbed down from their top bunks, taking care not to upset the little table, for there was scarcely room on the floor now to step. Indeed, when all four children were seated on the two lower bunks, their knees pressed against the table’s edge, and their feet were awkwardly intermingled below. Keeping his elbows close to his side, Captain Noland smiled apologetically and handed each of them a cup. “So long as no one moves very much, I believe we’ll be fine. Ever had navy coffee?”

“What is it?” asked Kate, eyeing the pitch-black liquid in the pot with suspicion.

“It’s brewed with a pinch of salt in the grounds,” Sticky answered. “The salt’s supposed to cut the bitterness.”

“So you’re familiar with it!” said Captain Noland with an approving look at Sticky. With careful movements he filled the cups, including one for himself. “Don’t worry, Kate, you can’t actually taste the salt. Just good, strong coffee.” The children took turns stirring cream into their cups, and the captain leaned against the cabin door and waited politely. When at last they were ready, he toasted their health — as if they were drinking champagne rather than coffee — then closed his eyes and took a long, slow sip, obviously savoring it.

Reynie drank from his own cup and almost choked. It was hard to say whether the coffee tasted more like gasoline or cough syrup. Luckily Captain Noland still had his eyes closed and didn’t see Reynie grimace as he forced the foul stuff down. He shot a warning look at the others (it was too late for Kate, who was trying to twist her horrified expression into something that resembled a smile) and in a slightly strangled voice said, “So you were in the navy, Captain?”

“The navy’s where I met Nicholas Benedict, in fact,” said Captain Noland. “He and I — why, what’s the matter?”

Captain Noland had opened his eyes to discover the children staring at him uncomfortably. They had agreed they must tell him the truth or risk getting nowhere, but now that the time had come, they were anxious. What if he decided to send them back home on the first plane from Lisbon? Or what if he wanted to help them but couldn’t? What if there were no more clues to be had?

“We need to speak with you about Mr. Benedict,” Reynie said after a pause. “He’s —”

Just then, the cabin seemed to lurch. The children nearly fell from their seats, and the coffee pot and serving tray slid across the table. Captain Noland leaped forward and caught them. The cabin righted itself just as quickly as it had gone askew.

“We’re heading into some rough seas, I’m afraid,” said Captain Noland, as if the children could possibly have failed to notice. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing very serious, and it won’t last the night. By morning we’ll… Wait, what were you going to tell me about Nicholas?”

It took a few minutes for the children to explain, and by the time they had finished Captain Noland was sitting on the little chest, his chin in his hands, looking quite stricken. “I can’t believe it. He called me from Lisbon only last week. He said he and Number Two were having a fine trip.”

“They’re in Lisbon, then?” Reynie asked hopefully.

“They were,” said Captain Noland. “They were leaving that afternoon. He called to make sure everything was properly arranged. You see, I’d invited Nicholas to be a guest on this maiden voyage months ago, and he asked if I would bring you children as guests instead. I was happy to do so. In fact, I was to play a role in the surprise he planned for you.”

“How so?” Kate asked.

“By presenting you with a sealed envelope he sent me several weeks ago. He said he intended to make certain arrangements, and if he succeeded, I was to give you the envelope when we reached port. When he called from Lisbon, he confirmed I should deliver it, along with some official paperwork to ease your passage between countries.”

“Do you have the envelope with you?” Reynie asked.

“In my cabin,” said Captain Noland. “When we’ve finished here I’ll get it, and we can open it together. I know you meant to do this alone — and I admire your courage — but for your own safety I can’t allow it. I won’t send you back, but I
am
going to help you.”

“It isn’t that we don’t want help,” Reynie said, “and we certainly wouldn’t mind some protection. But Mr. Curtain is suspicious and extremely smart. His henchmen — the Ten Men — they’ll be on the lookout for any kind of rescue attempt, and —”

“I understand you,” Captain Noland said. “We mustn’t involve the authorities, must operate in secret as much as possible. That’s all right, Reynie. I’ll do whatever’s necessary. You probably don’t know this, but I owe Nicholas my life. So tell me again, what exactly —”

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Captain, are you in there?”

“I asked not to be disturbed!” Captain Noland called.

“You said except in case of emergency, sir,” said Cannonball, poking his head in. “Which it is.”

Captain Noland quickly stood up. “What’s happened, Joe?”

The young sailor closed the door, and standing with his back against it (there being no place else to stand) said, “Well, sir, you know how Mr. Pressius was going on to the other… um, the other owners about his scads of diamonds? About how the jewels themselves are worth more than the
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and all her crew?”

“I seem to remember that,” the captain said dryly.

“Well, after you excused yourself, Mr. Pressius told Mr. Thomas about the…” Cannonball hesitated, glancing at the children.

“Speak freely, Joe.”

“Aye, sir. He told Mr. Thomas about the fakes.”

“Mr. Pressius has brought along a chest of plastic diamonds,” Captain Noland explained to the children, “which he seems to think may serve as decoys in the event of a robbery. I believe he took the idea from a movie.” The captain kept his face impassive, but the children got the distinct impression that he found Mr. Pressius perfectly ridiculous. “Now, Joe, tell me what happened.”