Through Darkest Zymurgia!

As the trader wasn't expected for another day or so, the 29th of Melee was decreed by universal acclamation to be a day of rest. Though an angler by avocation, Carbuncle did not disdain deep water fishing; he commandeered the ship's boat, and with Bruno for company rowed out into the middle of the lake. I settled into my accustomed deck chair on the lakewards side of the Spaniel, and settled down to watch. I judged that I had the better part--fishing is mostly sitting quietly in one place, and I had no need to row anywhere to do that. Moreover, I was much less likely to spill my beer (Cadbury had had a keg sent over for us). I am unsure what the others did that day; I rather expect that Philpott was still troubling Cadbury with his dictionary, and I think Hodgins took advantage of Bruno's absence to get some sleep. Fox kept to the cabin he had been assigned.

At two or so in the afternoon, I was awakened from a refreshing nap by a storm of barking coming from the lake. At first I thought Carbuncle had caught some new species of fish, a dogfish perhaps, but was soon reassured to see Bruno standing in the bow of the boat, muzzle nearly down in the water. Carbuncle was in the stern, trying to master his fishing pole, which was bent nearly double. It was hard to see what happened next, but Bruno moved aft, and Carbuncle moved forward, and as neither had eyes for the other they collided. In the ensuing confusion the boat turned over. I heard ribald laughter from the deck below me, and gathered that I was not the only observer. I watched in great concern until I saw the heads of Bruno and Carbuncle rise out of the water.

Bruno elected to have no more to do with boats, and swam rapidly to the ship. By the time Carbuncle had righted the boat and paddled painfully in, Bruno was warm and dry and reclining at my feet. Carbuncle, by contrast, was damp and despondent.

"You'll never believe it, Leon," he said. "It was the largest trout I've ever had on my hook."

"Really?" I replied. "Just how big was he? Big enough to swamp the boat, evidently."

Carbuncle waved that aside. "That was just clumsiness. The fish cut under the bow of the boat. I went forward to bring the line around the bow, and that bloody beast there ran under my feet. I'd have had him if not for that." He sat, dripping, on the next deck chair, and called for some beer. "Three feet if it was an inch, Leon. And like as not I'll never have another chance at it."

"Only three feet, Thomas? Not four? Or five?" I winked at him, and he scowled at me.

"That's right, Leon, kick me when I'm down. And sore; that bloody barge floats gunwhale under when it's swamped. But I see it's no use arguing. I knew you'd not believe me."

"Believe you? How could I believe you, Thomas, when you come to me with absurd stories about yard-long trout? I'll have you know that it measured at least forty inches."

"Forty inches?" He scowled at me in surprise. "What are you saying, exactly?"

"While you were dealing with the boat, Bruno here was dealing with the fish. He brought it to shore with him." I smiled broadly at Carbuncle's flabbergasted expression.

"Bruno? That bloody beast caught my fish?" Plainly, Carbuncle wasn't sure whether to be pleased or offended. Pleasure won out. "Well, lad," he said to Bruno, "I'm glad I brought you with me." He stopped, suddenly, and looked at me.

"Now, where is it?"

"If you'd like to see it whole, you'd best run along to the galley. I believe the cook is going to prepare it for dinner. You needn't hurry," I shouted at his retreating back, "I made him promise not to touch it until you had seen it!"

And so it was that we dined, and well, on trout fillets; and Bruno had a place of honor at the Captain's table. He comported himself with dignity, chewing his fillet neatly and grinning at us all as he waited for seconds.

Shortly after I retired to my cabin that night there was a knock on the door. I had been expecting the visit, and shouted "Come in!", but I didn't move. I remained slouched in my chair, my feet up on the bunk, with Carnarvon's Antiquities open on my lap. The situation of the cabin was such that the door was behind me, but I knew perfectly well who it was.

"Hello, Frederick," I said, "I knew you'd remember your manners sooner or later." There was suddenly an air of hurt indignation in the room.

"That's very hard, Dr. Thintwhistle, after all I've tried to do for you."

"For me, Frederick?" I exclaimed, half turning around in the chair to see him. "It is for my sake that you've been skulking about, pursuing us the full length of Seros under an assumed name?" He started to open his mouth, raising on hand a little, but I wasn't through. "And, I might add, carrying a writ which would have ended the expedition altogether. Heaven spare me from your enmity. Oh, do come and sit down on the bed where I see you."

Somewhat hesitantly, head hung low (it was a low ceiling, and Frederick is a tall man), my former student came fully into the cabin, shutting the door carefully behind him. He folded himself carefully onto the bed.

"Hello, Dr. Thintwhistle."

"Hello, Frederick. So nice to see you."

"Perhaps I had best explain," he said. I looked at him brightly, raising my eyebrows.

"You are evidently aware," he began slowly, "that the Earl of Luton is bankrupt."

"Rumors only," I said quickly. "It has not been brought officially to our attention."

"No," he said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He let it out slowly, and continued. "Were you also aware that Luton's chief creditor is the Mercantile Bank of Pelham and Bundyal?"

"Your father's bank?" He nodded.

"What are you telling me, Frederick? That your father, Sir Fosbury Forsythe, sent you out as his personal hatchet man? Doesn't he know that he has injured me more than was necessary?" And he had. Frederick had been one of my most promising students, until his father demanded that he leave the University and join the family firm. That had been several years before.

The air of hurt indignation had returned. Frederick looked at me with sad puppy eyes.

"It wasn't like that, Dr. Thintwhistle. I heard about Luton's bankruptcy and the plans to seize his yacht. I knew what that would mean to your expedition." His eyes pleaded with me, but I did not relent. I merely waited for him to continue. "It's quite a large sum of money, Dr. Thintwhistle. The sale of the Sea-Spaniel won't begin to cover it, but it's a big enough piece that the firm could not ignore it." He hesitated long enough to draw and release another deep breath, and then looked me straight in the eye. "I know what writ-servers are, Dr. Thintwhistle. I thought that it would be less painful all around if I took care of it myself."

I allowed myself to soften slightly. "On the theory, I take it, that one should always shoot one's dog oneself?"

"If you like, yes. I'm sorry."

"So am I, Frederick, so am I. It's a lonely place we're in; any number of accidents could happen to a man who didn't know the terrain or the people. But I'm afraid I can't condone accidents to a former student," I said regretfully.

The blood drained from Frederick's face. "Dr. Thintwhistle, surely you're not serious!"

"No," I said, "more's the pity. It would be so much simpler. But," I said, "fortunately the point is moot. Your writ is destroyed, and therefore my expedition is safe."

He leaned forward a trifle. "I don't suppose I can persuade you to bring the Sea-Spaniel back to Pelham even without a writ?"

"Of course I'll bring the Sea-Spaniel back to Pelham. But not now, not until I'm done with it. Your father and his bank will just have to settle for that."

"I thought as much," he said. "Well, then. The captain has confined me to the ship. I'd very much like to get back to Pelham, if I may."

"You may not." I said firmly. "We'll need you to help us run the gauntlet safely on our return to Angland." He nodded slowly, but said nothing. "And besides, no thanks to your father, I've finally got you out of Angland and into the field, where you belong. When we go up the cliff to Zymurgia, you'll be coming along."

"I will," he said. It was not quite a question.

"Oh, yes," I said, "You will. Now, you'd best run along; I'll talk with you again tomorrow."

Frederick rose to go; I stopped him as he got to the door.

"Oh, and Frederick?"

"Yes, Dr. Thintwhistle?"

"Why the assumed name?"

"My father insisted, Dr. Thintwhistle. He didn't want me to drag the name of Forsythe through the mud. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"Not unless it suits me, Frederick, not unless it suits me. Good night!"

After he left I browsed through Carnarvon for a while longer, and was soon ready for sleep.

The next day dawned bright and orange, and some hours later I was awakened by the steward's knock.

"It is the native, sir," he said, his inflection indicating all of his unspoken disdain for people who wore robes and headcloths. "He insists on speaking to you."

"I'm surprised at you, Baxter," I said. "Cadbury is an old friend, and a full member of our expedition. I'll thank you to remember that." I waved away Baxter's stammered apology, and told him to send Cadbury to my cabin posthaste. I dressed quickly as I waited for him to arrive.

"Good morning, Hakim Effendi," he said as he entered my cabin. He was resplendent in a snowy white robe--not the slightly tattered robe he usually wore, but clearly his best, and a light blue headcloth. That surprised me considerably; it indicated that he would be speaking for the village as a whole.

"Good morning, Cadbury," I said as I laced up my boots. I always have trouble getting the laces tight enough. "What's the occasion?"

His eyes danced. "The trader approaches, my friend. Come see."