In Search of Goliathus Hercules (33 page)

“Please close that immediately,” came a polite but authoritative voice in the cabin behind him.

“Sorry!” said Henri, and he quickly shut the porthole. He turned around. Upon the desk in his cabin sat the cage Mrs. Black carried. Its door was open, and beside it, gnawing on a piece of sugar cane, was the enormous beetle—
Goliathus hercules
!

“Care for some breakfast?” he said, looking up at Henri.

“Umm…no, thank you.” While Henri quite liked sugar cane, the fact that the beetle had straddled it with his entire body was a little off-putting. It was sort of like someone offering you a sandwich they had accidentally sat on.

Henri got back into bed and raised the covers to his chin for warmth. He continued to stare at the grazing beetle.

“I do wish you wouldn’t watch me eat. You know it’s rather rude to do that?”

Henri let out a chortle. The beetle sounded just like Great Aunt Georgie admonishing him for his poor manners! It also reminded him of a time long ago when Dom the fly had reprimanded him for reading over his shoulder. Really, insects could be very genteel. They hardly deserved their reputation as dirty miscreants.

His laugh had caused the beetle to stop eating, and the beetle gave Henri a sharp look.

“Sorry, sorry!” said Henri. “I mean no offense. What you said, well, you sounded like someone I know.”

The beetle abruptly climbed off the sugar cane and moved closer to Henri. He gnashed his pinchers, cutting at the air with aggressive ferocity. Then he rapidly opened and closed his wings as if to launch himself at Henri. Henri, however, seemed unperturbed by these actions, for in the short time he had spent with the warrior insect he had learned that this was a grooming ritual carried out at the conclusion of a meal.

“Really?” he said. “Of whom do I remind you?”

“My Great Aunt Georgie,” replied Henri. “She’s a real stickler for manners and proper etiquette.”

“She sounds like a very cultured person. Please tell me more about her.”

“Well, she’s nearly a hundred years old,” began Henri, who went on to describe the house on Woodland Farm and Great Aunt Georgie’s passionate interest in collecting buttons. Over the course of their journey by ship, Henri discovered that this beetle was more curious than any other insect he’d ever met. Mrs. Black wasn’t exactly wrong when she said insects tended to think of their stomachs before anything else, but while this particular member of
Goliathus hercules
had a healthy appetite, he also appeared to be fascinated by every last detail of Henri’s life.

Aboard the ship that would return them to England, the explorers had nearly two months to discuss their adventures, speculate on the fate of Mrs. Black, and study their most prized specimen,
Goliathus hercules
.

As was their evening ritual, they sat cramped in Henri’s cabin with Henri, Robin, and Billy on the bed while Maestro Antonio sat on the lone chair in front of the desk. The beetle ambled about the desktop.

It was Maestro Antonio who pointed out that the beetle was a rather skillful conversationalist. The insect always managed to extract more information than he ever gave of himself. This, among other things, made Billy suspicious of the creature.

“He’s up to something, Henri,” Billy said one evening. “I don’t trust him. He’s not…he’s not…” Billy searched for the word. “Wild! He’s not wild enough!”

“I really don’t know what that is supposed to mean!” replied Henri. “He bit you during the battle! That’s not wild enough for you?”

“Oh yes. I’m not going to forget that any time soon,” said Billy, feeling the scar on his cheek. “I don’t know. There’s something not right about him. He’s devious. He’s up to something. Henri, he’s nothing like any of the reports you told us about.”

“Billy, those were reports by people who sighted
Goliathus hercules
, but they never had the opportunity to study them,” said Robin. “We have the chance to show that they’re not the bloodthirsty beasts they’ve been made out to be. I think he’s charming!”

The cage was just for show in case anyone else on the ship entered the cabin. Then the beetle would be locked inside, where he would make a great show of acting like the fearsome warrior he was purported to be—rattling the cage and pushing his pinchers through the bars. Otherwise, he was free to move about. Sometimes he flew about the cabin, but more often he paced the desk and peppered Henri with questions about his life and where they were going.

This evening, as the friends talked, the beetle had chewed a pencil but spit out the shavings with a sound of great disgust. He had speared an eraser with one of his horns and caused a great deal of commotion when it got stuck, knocking over a bottle of ink and leaving inky footprints all over the desk. While Billy, Maestro Antonio, and Henri cleaned up the ink,
Goliathus hercules
stood still and let Robin remove the eraser. With Robin he was always at his most “charming,” as she described it.

Now he concentrated his efforts on opening Henri’s five-year diary. As the others talked and watched him, he successfully managed to get his horns between the pages and easily open the journal. He then strutted onto the open page and sat down.

“Agatha Black may not speak insect, but look at him,” accused Billy. “He’s reading your diary, Henri! He understands English!”

“Oh really, Billy! He’s not reading.” Robin lifted the beetle away and, upon doing so, discovered that he had left his “calling card,” so to speak, on the page.

“Oh! You’re a naughty boy! You know you shouldn’t do that,” she said in insect.

“Trust me, Henri, he planned that!” said Billy.“ How do you know he’s not reading? Henri knew a fly who could read.”

“That’s true,” said Henri. “But I think my Great Aunt Georgie taught him. This insect grew up in the jungle, so I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Haven’t you noticed? He’s always listening. He acts like he understands,” replied Billy. He put his head down on the desk so that he was eye to eye with the creature. “You’ll see I’m right. I’ll be watching you, Prince Charming!”

Henri had to admit that the insect—or Prince, as they dubbed him shortly after that conversation—was rather unusual. Mysterious? Perhaps, but he was the equivalent of a trained soldier. A prisoner of war would never divulge sensitive information. He might just be trying to protect himself and his kind. Hopefully, in time, Prince would come to trust them.

Later that night Henri decided to take a stroll on deck by himself. The sea was calm and the stars glittered in the sky. He thought about their journey to capture
Goliathus hercules
. It had been exhausting, dangerous, and frustrating, but nonetheless exhilarating. But Henri still had so many questions.

Only one mystery had been truly solved. His father, after disappearing four years ago, could finally be declared dead. He had gone into the jungle for reasons unknown and had never returned to collect his precious photographs.

Tears rolled down Henri’s face.

T
he explorers were within days of arriving in London’s port. They had sent advance notice of their successful expedition, and they expected that not only would Henri’s mother and Professor Young be there to greet them, but also a number of dignitaries from the Entomological and Geographical societies.

“There might even be someone from the royal palace!” Robin suggested excitedly as she practiced a little curtsy before them.

Billy would normally have taken the opportunity to make fun of Robin, but in his own excitement, he added, “Maybe the news of our capturing
Goliathus hercules
has been leaked to the press. There could be hundreds of people at the dock, all jostling for a view of us and, of course, Prince Charming himself!”

“Speaking of the devil, he’s rather busy tearing up that novel you
were
reading,” remarked Maestro Antonio, staring down at the busy beetle, who had furtively set about shredding the book to ribbons.

“Why, you mean-spirited, conniving, good-for-nothing bug!” Billy grabbed one of Henri’s hats that was lying nearby and was about to swat the beetle with it, but Prince was already in the air, flying toward Robin. He landed on her shoulder and affectionately scratched at her neck with his horns.

“As usual! Hiding behind your girlfriend!” said Billy in disgust. “If you weren’t so valuable, I would happily throw you out the porthole and be done with you!”

“Billy, you should know better than to leave your book on the desk,” said Robin. “Haven’t you learned that he loves paper? He just can’t seem to resist. I think he does it to exercise his pinchers. He’s keeping in fighting form.”

“If it’s a fight he’s looking for, then he’s got a willing opponent!” said Billy. “You’re right, though; he does have a thing for paper. He reads everything he can get his grubby claws on.”

The other three rolled their eyes as if to say, “Not
that
again!”

“But what I notice is he only rips up
my
things!” In insect, Billy said, “What have I ever done to you?!”

Since Henri was the only one able to hear the beetle without the hearing aid, he spoke for Prince. “He asks how he was to know that the paper was important to you?”

“It wasn’t just paper! It was a book! A good book about pirates and buried treasure. I hadn’t finished it, and now I never will.”

Laughing, Henri said, “He says stories are for children. You’re almost a man.”

“Ugh! Stupid bug!” retorted Billy.

“Don’t say that, Billy! He’s not stupid,” said Robin.

“Look, next time, why don’t you ask?” Billy said sulkily.

“He says we were all busy speaking English, and no one was listening to him. He needed the paper to make a nest.”

“Ugh!” Billy said in the direction of the beetle. “You’re worse than a rodent! Just a few more days! I won’t be sad not seeing you every day.”

“He says he feels the same way about you.”

Everyone laughed except Billy. He just grunted in disgust.

Unlike Billy, Henri was quite fond of Prince. He suspected that the beetle was a practical joker. Spending all day and night in the cabin was very dull, and plotting pranks to rile Billy likely helped pass the hours.

One day Henri showed Prince the insects they had collected during the expedition that were considered new discoveries. The beetle very obligingly told what he knew of each species—its type, its name in the jungle, its habits, and often, a description of how the insect actually tasted.

“Very sweet and juicy. One of those is a great way to start off the day!” and “A little small, but they’re salty. Ten or so make a nice appetizer.”

Given that Prince seemed to have sampled most of the specimens in his jungle habitat, Henri was left with the impression that
Goliathus hercules
must be at the top of its food chain.

And so Henri and Prince passed the days of the voyage in agreeable conversation. Like Prince, Henri had been confined to his cabin for most of the voyage. His safety was not at issue. Unfortunately, it was his appearance that drew unwanted attention. Only at night could he steal up to the deck for a breath of fresh air. Usually he didn’t stay long because the cool breeze stiffened his joints.

And Henri had shrunk even more! He was now eighteen inches shorter than Robin, according to the measurements that Maestro Antonio regularly took for Professor Young. With the sleeves of a sweater dragging on the ground, Henri shuffled about the deck less like a thirteen-year-old boy and more like an elderly man—or as Billy had aptly described, “like an ancient troll.” Robin accused Billy of being insensitive, but Henri appreciated his honesty. He would not be able to make public appearances in the two-legged world for much longer.

Confined as he was, Henri turned to Prince as his confidant. He wasn’t sure it was a good idea, given Billy’s suspicions, but the beetle was indeed a good listener.

“I’m not really Serranga-orang,” Henri confessed one day.

“What do you mean? You’re half man and half insect,” replied Prince.

“I am right now, but I think I’m becoming more and more insect-like. Serranga-orang is a character from a folktale, a story made up to amuse children and, I suppose, to explain the unexplainable.”

The beetle looked at him shrewdly and then said, “I think most would find you unexplainable. How do you know you’re not Serranga-orang?”

“Well, I haven’t lived for hundreds of years luring my enemies with song and outwitting them with my cleverness.”

“How long have you lived?” asked Prince.

“I’m thirteen, and my only enemy, Agatha Black, seems to outwit and escape me again and again.”

“Maybe Serranga-orang is what you will become?”

“I’m not sure that’s who I want to be. Right now I feel like I would rather be all man or all insect.”

“It’s less complicated,” agreed Prince.

“Some days I think Professor Young is right,” said Henri. “I’m on the verge of experiencing something entirely unheard of or imagined. It’s like being an explorer or a pioneer. It’s exciting! Do you think I’ll be able to fly?”

“Perhaps,” said Prince. “I can tell you that flying is most enjoyable. One gets a very good view, and it’s much faster than walking. It’s also a good way to escape one’s enemies,” he said ominously.