The Stolen Lake (2 page)

"He had a message." Mr. Holystone gave a stir to a cauldron of shark soup, turned a mutton ham on its roasting spit, then began kneading a pan of dough and breaking it into rolls.

"He did have a message? From the admiralty?"

"No, from Admiral Hollingsworth at Trinidad."

"How the blazes did it get here?"

"By carrier pigeon." Mr. Holystone put his rolls in the oven.

"Hey—was it that pigeon that Dora nearly caught this morning?"

"There it is."

Now Dido noticed the same pigeon perched on top of the dish rack, with its head under its wing. Must be tuckered out, she thought, if it's flown all the way from Trinidad—wherever that is. "Best watch Dora don't get it, Mr. Holy?"

But the cat, El Dorado, was engaged in gnawing some shark scraps on a tin pan which her master had put down for her.

"Lucky Noah Gusset caught the pigeon afore Dora got to it, or Cap'n Hughes'd never have got the message," Dido remarked.

"And we would have been spared much trouble."

"Why? What was the message? Did you find out?"

"
Si, si.
" Mr. Holystone sometimes absently lapsed into Spanish or Latin. When he was fifteen his adopted father had sent him to be educated at the University of Salamanca, in Spain. He was so fond of learning that he had remained there for ten years. In consequence he knew a great deal about almost everything, and spoke nine languages fluently.

"Talk English, please!" said Dido, who did not.

"Excuse me! Captain Hughes has been instructed to sail down the east coast of Roman America to the port of Tenby, in New Cumbria."

Mr. Holystone did not look particularly happy about this change of plan.

"Is that a long way?" asked ignorant Dido.

"I should say so! Two thousand miles, I daresay. We must cross the equator."

"Two
thousand
miles?" Dido gasped. "But I thought we was on our way home, bound for London river."

Her mouth drooped. Mr. Holystone looked at her with sympathy.

"Poor young miss. It is a sad feeling—to be so far from home."

"Where's your home, Mr. Holy?"

"Hy Brasil?" The steward sighed. "It is not so far from where we are going. But I have no friends there anymore. I cannot return."

"So why do we have to go to this New Cumbria?"

"Admiral Hollingsworth had a message from the queen of that country, asking for help."

"Why should the British Navy help
her?
"

"She has sustained some wrong at the hands of a neighbor country. There has been some attack, some invasion—the message did not say. Something has been taken from the queen."

"Captain Hughes has to get it back?"

"So he was told."

"But why should we help this queen?" asked Dido. She folded the captain's table napkin into a neat cockade. "Why can't the queen's own army do that job?"

"Really you are a remarkably ill-informed young person," Mr. Holystone said rather severely. "Have you never learned the history of your own land?"

"Oh, come off it, Mr. Holy. Don't preach at a person! It ain't
my
fault I never got no schooling."

"No, that is true," he apologized. "And it is true, too, that all
my
education has done me little good. What is the use of being able to read Sanskrit, Homer, and Machiavelli, if you end up as a ship's steward?"

"You're ever such a good steward, Mr. Holy," Dido said kindly. "Never mind about Mucky Velly. Tell me about the queen of Cumbria. What's her name?"

"The message did not intimate. Her country is Britain's oldest ally. There have been links of friendship between Britain and New Cumbria since the year 577."

"Coo!" Dido counted on her fingers. "More than twelve hundred years. What happened in five seven seven?"

"A battle—the battle of Dyrham. Here, take the tablecloth." He handed her a heavy white damask square and followed her into the captain's cabin, a big, handsome room which contained a massive mahogany table, as well as a desk and several armchairs. The walls were paneled in walnut and covered with maps, charts, and diagrams of the flying machines which were the captain's passion. He had a theory that ships could be constructed to fly like birds. Up to now, no one at the admiralty had taken him seriously.

Big, slanting windows let in the moonlight and followed the line of the ship's side.

Dido spread the cloth on the table, and Mr. Holystone laid out a single place setting of knives, forks, spoons, plates, and glasses for wine and water.

"Who won the battle of Dyrham?"

"The British lost. You never heard of the Bath Brigade? Or the Glastonbury Guards? Or the Mendip Diehards?" Dido shook her head. "The British and Romans were fighting together against a lot of invading Saxons. When the battle was lost, a number of British and Romans escaped to the coast. There they took ship—in fact the ships that the Saxons had arrived in—and set off across the sea with their wives and families. The first land they reached was New Cumbria, so there they settled."

"And they've been there ever since?" Dido was greatly struck. "Didn't they
never
go back?"

"Some of their descendants went back. And by that time the Saxons had settled down in Britain and made friends with the natives. So there has always been a link between the two countries."

"And that's why this queen thinks poor old Cap'n Hughes has got to come running two thousand miles to pick up her knitting when it drops off the needles? If you ask
me,
" said Dido, "I think she has a sauce!"

Mr. Holystone looked a little baffled—some of Dido's language was beyond him. But at this moment they heard Captain Hughes coming along the passage.

"It's lucky," pursued Dido, without heeding this, "that the
Thrush
is one o' these newfangled steam sloops, or it'd be Blue Moon Habbakuk Day afore we ever gets to London. How long'll it take us to sail down the coast of Roman America, Mr. Holy?"

"A week or two—depending on the wind."

Picking up his tray, the steward gestured to Dido to follow him as Captain Hughes appeared in the doorway. The captain, however, halted her with an uplifted hand.

"One moment, Miss Twite."

Oh, blimey, now what? wondered Dido. She searched her conscience for misdeeds. Captain Hughes had a decidedly gloomy expression, as if he had swallowed a sea lemon.

Mr. Holystone had gone to his pantry, and now returned, carrying a bowl of shark soup and the pan of freshly baked rolls.

Captain Hughes said, "Lay another place for Miss Twite, Holystone. I have instructions to give her."

Mr. Holystone was far too well trained to betray surprise. He had attended butlers' school in London; part of the course consisted of half an hour's poker-face work every morning. So now he said, "Certainly, sir," with perfect calm, and retired to reappear next moment with silver, plates, napkin, and glasses for Dido. She, however, gaped at the captain, startled out of her wits by this unexpected honor.

"Sit down, Miss Twite," said the captain.

"Ay, ay, Cap."

Captain Hughes did not go so far as to pull out her chair. He eyed her morosely, as if she were some small obstinate piece of grit that had fallen into his chronometer. Dido herself, now that the initial surprise was over, endeavored to appear quite at her ease. She sat down opposite the captain as if she dined at his table every day, while Mr. Holystone supplied her with a plate of soup and a hot roll.

"It has become my duty, Miss Twite—" said Captain Hughes after a fairly lengthy pause, while he eyed his own plate of soup as if wondering how to navigate a vessel across it. "Ahem!—it has become my duty to change course and make passage to the kingdom of Cumbria."

He paused, as if expecting to be questioned, but as Dido continued quietly spooning up her soup, he demanded in a tone of some asperity, "I daresay you will tell me you have never heard of the place?"

"No I shan't," replied Dido with aplomb. "It's Britain's oldest ally, in the middle o' Roman Ameriky; been that since the Battle o' Dickerydock in the year 577."

"Ah. Ho-hum." Captain Hughes was taken aback. "Yes—er—that is, in fact, the case. Ships of the New Cumbrian Navy have been of assistance to us in attacking the Hanoverians. And their ports are at our disposal for watering, refitting, and taking on food."

"Mighty obliging of 'em," said Dido.

"So we are bound to go to the help of the present ruler, who has sent an appeal to His Britannic Majesty King James III."

"Crumbs," said Dido, wondering what sort of help a ruler would need. "I mean, natcherly we are." She also wondered why Captain Hughes was taking pains to explain all this.

Mr. Holystone removed the soup plates and brought in a roasted mutton ham, which the captain proceeded to carve.

"Since it is not yet perfectly clear what the queen wants," said Captain Hughes, handing Dido a plate of meat, "I shall disembark at the port of Tenby and travel inland to wait on her at her capital."

"Is that far?" inquired Dido. It would, she thought, be very boring if the
Thrush
had to lie at anchor for many days, waiting for the captain.

"Over two hundred miles, I understand. The capital, Bath Regis, lies in the Andes Mountains, which range forms the western boundary of the kingdom."

Dido sighed, chewing on a piece of gristly mutton. He'll be weeks at it, she thought. But then the captain astonished her by saying, "I intend taking you with me, Miss Twite."

"Me?" Hastily Dido gulped down her piece of gristle.

"Don't gape, child! It is most unbecoming. Yes, you," said the captain irritably. "You have been committed to my custody; it would be a shocking dereliction of duty if I were to leave you on board without somebody to watch over you."

"I've managed without custard whatever-it-is plenty o' times before," said Dido ungratefully. "'Sides, I reckon Mr. Holystone'd keep an eye on me."

"I intend taking him as well."

"Oh."

"Do you not
wish
to see New Cumbria?" demanded the captain. "I had thought I was doing you a favor."

(In fact he had thought nothing of the sort.

"We have Reason to Believe," the British agent in Trinidad had written to Admiral Hollingsworth, who had passed on the letter, "that the Queen of New Cumbria is somewhat crack'd in her Wits. She insists, among other things, that she is the rightful Ruler of the British Isles; & asserts that she would set Sail to Make Good her Claim had she not Pressing Reasons for remaining in her Domain of New Cumbria. But she threatens to withdraw her Friendship, including Use of her Ports by British vessels, unless we Come to her Assistance. Do, Pray, Admiral Hollingsworth, send one of your most Trusted Officers to Settle the Old Lady down—for it wd be a most Disastrous Inconvenience to lose those Roman American Bases. Very likely the Whole Affair will prove to be No Great Matter.—By the bye, I hear the Queen is devotedly Fond of Young Female Children & likes to have one or two such Youthful Protégées always at hand. If any of your Officers shd chance to have a Wife and Young Family, the addition of these Persons to the Mission might well serve to Butter Up the Queen & win her Goodwill, should there prove to be any Difficulties about carrying out her Wishes.")

I only hope the queen does not prove to be a
cannibal,
thought Captain Hughes rather uncomfortably.

"I never said I didn't want to come!" retorted Dido to his last observation. "All I said was 'oh.' I don't mind coming along. Is this here Bath Regis a grand town—big as London?"

"I doubt that," said Captain Hughes shortly. He was feeling guilty and anxious—not to say deceitful—about Dido's part in the business, and this made him sound sharper than usual. He added, more mildly, "Yet it is said that some of these cities in the Andes Mountains are very magnificent—the Cities of the Kings, or Caesars, they are called; it is believed that the streets are paved with gold and silver, that the rivers run with diamonds. Even their plows and farm implements are reported to be made of precious metals."

"Fancy," said Dido. Even she was impressed at the thought of silver cobblestones. "Is Bath Regis like that, then—silver cobbles and all?"

"I do not know. We shall see."

Dido began to be reconciled to the prospect of breaking her journey.

Mr. Holystone removed the meat and brought in a gluey conserve of quinces in syrup. Captain Hughes absently spooned out a ladleful of this delicacy for Dido and added, "Ahem! Miss Twite! Since your manners and conduct appear to have been scandalously neglected (indeed I cannot imagine
how
you have been brought up or who has had charge of you), I shall instruct Holystone to bring all your other studies to a halt, and concentrate, during the next week, on teaching you ladylike deportment and elegance of bearing."

"Croopus!"

"You must learn to curtsy—"

"Blimey!"

"You must learn to walk with a book on your head—"

"
Why?
"

"And," continued the captain, beginning to recall disciplines under which his sisters had suffered, "you will lie each day on a backboard, and will recite 'Papa, potatoes, prunes, and prisms' a hundred times, to give you a more refined diction."

Luckily at this moment—for Dido seemed about to burst—the midshipman of the watch knocked and came in with the day's sextant readings giving the ship's position. Captain Hughes exclaimed with satisfaction over these.

"The
Thrush
certainly has an excellent turn of speed. It is that steam screw—a remarkable invention, to be sure. Now, if only it could be harnessed to
wings....
Thank you, Mr. Multiple; you may return on deck. And you, Miss Twite, had best retire to your cabin; you have much to learn before we reach the port of Tenby."

"Ay, ay, sir," said Dido in rather a stifled manner. She walked slowly toward the door.

Noticing her glum looks, Captain Hughes remarked sharply, "And no sulks, if you please! I shall expect a livelier obedience than
that,
when we are ashore in New Cumbria! The country is excessively dangerous; there are jaguars, giant owls and bats, spiders seven inches in diameter, which can, I am told, leap thirty feet in one spring; there are alligators, poisonous snakes, hostile savages in the forest armed with poisoned darts, besides huge hairy tusked birds, larger than horses, which can snatch up a grown man in their talons and fly off with him to their eyrie in the mountains."