‘But, it’s the truth. I know you see it, sir,’ I burst out.
‘Covington. The only miracle I see here is a boy who saved my life,’ his voice dropped even further, ‘a boy brave beyond reason who brought back a scientific marvel.’
I looked down at Sixpence. She seemed smaller than the others had been. Next to her dark slick scales, Farthing looked tired and dusty. Farthing was just a baby herself. The eggs had all survived, yet I felt a creeping dread. Mr Darwin cleared his throat and stood, straightening his pocket watch.
‘Now, we can’t keep a room full of growing reptiles, the skirting boards are already in tatters. Their enclosure at the London Zoological Society is ready, and as soon as this little one is strong enough, they will all be homed there. They will be safe, the environment health giving, with more room for their natural behavioural patterns to develop and be studied.’
Mr Darwin’s tone was brisk. He’d talked to me about this, but I wasn’t ready. I opened my mouth to protest, then looked at Farthing and closed it again. She couldn’t stay here, it was making her unwell. The thought of being away from her . . . but I couldn’t be selfish and try to keep her by my side, this new enclosure might help her.
I had no choice but to trust Mr Darwin, even if he didn’t trust me.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
The carriage trundled over the cobbles and Mr Darwin took his customary place by the window, likely hoping for breeze but instead inhaling the heavy summer stink of London. I offered him some smelling salts, but he declined with downturned lips and a shake of his head, taking a snort of snuff instead, which resulted in three quick sneezes. As always, he was a poor traveller, not as ill as he was when he was at sea, but he suffered nonetheless. I sighed. Farthing and her family had been rehomed at the London Zoological Society for eight months now and I wondered when I would stop missing her. Our weekly visit to see them made my insides churn – my heart leaping with excitement, my stomach curling in dread. The lizards had been officially named Galapagos green lizards, but soon became known as Darwin’s Dragons. The Komodo dragons were in the enclosure next to them in the reptile house at the London Zoological Society and their joint space became known as Dragon Corner.
Darwin’s Dragons. And in my mind, I always thought of them as dragons. I was the only keeper of their secret identity. There was nobody I could even try to convince. If Mr Darwin wouldn’t believe me, then no one else would either.
Mr Darwin’s talk for the Royal Society had been very well received. He’d outlined his geological findings from the voyage, describing the singular animals of the Galapagos in great detail, and displayed our preserved specimens in their jars and glass cases. We moved to London in May, my master making me his secretary, with both room and board and an excellent wage for a boy of my age.
On the outside, fortune had smiled upon a simple fiddler’s son, an orphan who had run off to sea. From the lowest rank on board, I had risen to be manservant and now the secretary of a most distinguished gentleman, making a name for himself in the world of Science.
Yet I could not sleep at night, and spent my days in what Scratch would have called ‘a maudlin’. I made mistakes in my work, and my belly knotted up like ship’s rigging.
The dragons’ home, the London Zoological Society, was the largest collection of wildlife in the world. Farthing and the others grew up playful and competitive, fighting but never injuring each other. They slept as they had when they were newly hatched, balled up together. Except Farthing, who always lay separately, facing them, watchful. She remained protective of them even when they caught up with her in size. They were unlike any other reptile the zoological society had encountered, curious about the other inhabitants, sociable and with an impressive array of calls that delighted visiting society members – the only persons admitted into the zoological park grounds.
Their hoots even attracted the attention of passers-by outside the walls, who lingered at Dragon Corner to listen to their calls so often a stand was set up selling hot ‘dragon’ pies.
The lizards responded to their keepers and answered to their names. Early studies suggested they were nearly as intelligent as the apes, and of much higher intelligence than their supposed cousins, the Komodo dragons.
The coach pulled up and we were quickly admitted through the gates, the pair of us familiar to the guards.
We passed the barred dome of the raven cage, flicks of the bright wings of macaws inside. Mr Darwin took an unfamiliar turn through the rows of enclosures.
I stopped.
‘Come, Covington. The society has recently procured a new . . .’
The word ‘inmate’ sprang into my mind.
‘. . . guest. I know you are impatient to get to Farthing, but please indulge me.’
He led me to a low building and rapped on the door. It was opened by a keeper.
‘Her name is Jenny,’ said Mr Darwin, ‘and we have seen nothing like her. She is an orangutan from the jungles of Borneo, and quite remarkable.’
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
I followed Mr Darwin inside the small building. Along one wall was a barred area with a stone floor, scattered with hay. Jenny the orangutan was the size of a child of around four years old, had been clothed in a flowered dress, and had wispy reddish hair covering her long limbs. She lumbered over to the bars, knuckles almost reaching the floor, and gripped the metal with strong leathery fingers. Her heavy brow rose, a peak of red fluff stuck up from the top of her head, and beneath it her eyes shone, dark brown – sharp, but soft at the same time. I was taken aback by the strange little creature, so like a person, yet so different. I wondered if she had willingly worn the dress, as she clearly had no need for it. When I smiled at her, Jenny bared her large teeth with a clicking sound, and then turned away.
‘She doesn’t like it when you show your teeth,’ said the keeper. ‘Jenny. This is Mr Darwin, come to visit you.’ He fastened the door to the building behind us, then unlocked the door to her caged area and passed Mr Darwin a green apple. My master stepped inside the cage and surprised me by sitting down on the floor. He held out the apple on the palm of his hand like he might be feeding a horse. Jenny came over to him, sniffed at the apple but did not take it.
‘She has recently been fed, sir,’ said the keeper.
Jenny turned back to the bars where I was waiting, fascinated. I took the handkerchief from my pocket and held it out to her, raising my eyes at the keeper who nodded his permission.
The little orangutan snatched the handkerchief and sniffed it, without taking her sharp gaze from me. I chuckled, but kept my lips closed this time, and she pouted her lips in response then rested the handkerchief on her head, looking up at it. I looked up at my own cap, then took it off. Jenny took the handkerchief off her head.
Mr Darwin got to his feet. ‘Well done, Covington. You see how she mimics; her behaviour is quite childlike. I intend to study her as she becomes more used to me. But that’s enough for today,’ he said.
The master’s voice was alive with passion, the same passion I’d seen when the first dragon egg hatched. The little ape capered around her cage, throwing my handkerchief in the air and watching as it fell, then picking it up again, over and over. She was so far from her jungle home, from others of her kind. I remembered how that felt and gripped the cold bars.
‘You can keep the handkerchief, Jenny,’ I said.
CHAPTER FIFTY
I approached Farthing’s enclosure in the same way as always, counting the dragons. Farthing was already at the bars and raced to my side. I crouched to greet her, and she nudged my hand until I scratched her cheek. Her ruff rose, but the scales didn’t quite align, and her eyes seemed dusty, dim. I counted the rest of the dragons, nine including Farthing – there was Sixpence, Quartz, Basalt, Granite, Magma, Slate, Obsidian and Marble. Mr Darwin had named them after rocks of the earth where they had been found.
Farthing snorted hot air into my palm as I waded to the back of the lizard enclosure in my heav
y fisherman’s gaiters. Mr Darwin spoke with the head keeper, taking notes. One of the dragons lay listlessly beneath a brazier of hot coals, mud covering his green scales.
‘Quartz was like that all day yesterday, and hasn’t stirred today, sir,’ called out the keeper.
I slopped over to Quartz, through the mud, and laid a hand beneath his chin. He snorted but didn’t open his eyes, not a slice of copper to be seen, even when I whistled. The smaller of his claws was white and shiny, so we had called him after the crystal. I stroked this claw now.
‘Stay bricky, boy,’ I said quietly.
‘Mr Darwin,’ I called. The young gentleman waded halfway over to me, looked down at Quartz, and nodded.
‘Keep a close eye on this one,’ said Mr Darwin to the keeper.
I shook my head. I didn’t see how a close eye could help.
Mr Darwin stood beside me, pulling at his long side whiskers thoughtfully. ‘Interesting that Quartz seems weaker than the rest, yet he is one of the largest, and has been stronger in general. It would appear that some individuals are simply more adaptable to a change in conditions.’
Despair dropped through my chest like a lead weight as Mr Darwin walked away, scribbling in his notebook. It would never be warm enough. We could never recreate the lava plains of the Galapagos, the tunnels, the dry heat. Not here. I had brought these animals to a damp murky city, out of the centre of a volcano.
‘And the others – how is their weight?’ I asked the keeper.
‘No change,’ he said.
‘Well, they are fully grown now, so that’s expected,’ replied Mr Darwin.
I had nothing to say. Not in front of the keeper. The dragons were now the size of labrador dogs, but they were far from fully grown. They were growing larger, but not heavier because their muscles were weakening. No one understood – the dragons were still babies.
‘How has Farthing been?’ I said, afraid of the answer.
‘Oh, she’s still herself most of the time, bossing around the others,’ the keeper smiled and nodded over my shoulder. Farthing reared up on her hind legs and hooted. I threw her a half-rotten sardine, and instead of catching it, she twisted and flicked it with her tail straight into the mouth of Magma, one of her sisters. I laughed.
No reptile expert had been able to confirm the dragon’s genders, but Mr Darwin and I had agreed that we thought the females had slightly narrower snouts than the males.
We had made modifications over the last two months to improve their living area, giving them live fish to catch in a small pond, and rocks where they could take shelter, plus the braziers had just been installed in case they suffered from the lack of heat. But the ground was always muddy, as the enclosure was on soil not rock, the stagnant water could not be kept fresh, and no matter how many keepers were employed to clean out, there was a rancid stench.
‘Still up to her tricks then?’ I said, throwing Farthing another fish. At least she had her appetite. For now.
‘Sometimes, sir,’ the keeper lowered his voice, side-glanced at Mr Darwin and leant closer towards me. ‘Your visits raise her spirits. Then after, she always paces the bars longer than the others.’
My face must have clearly painted my feelings at hearing this.
‘Sorry, lad, but you did say you wanted to know everything,’ he whispered.
I nodded, cleared my throat. ‘Yes.’
I felt a sudden burst of anger. I waded over to Mr Darwin on the edge of the enclosure.
‘Sir, we have to do something. You saw Quartz. They aren’t doing well here, they are ill—’
Mr Darwin’s bushy brows drew together.
‘They are simply reaching maturity, Covington. Fully grown, you can expect them to be less playful, they may be slower during cooler weather—’
‘They are not fully grown,’ I interrupted in a hissing voice, flushing at my boldness, but not able to stop now, ‘they are all babies, you know they are . . . and they are ill! They will grow to the size of a . . . a . . . whale!’
Mr Darwin’s eyes flashed. He glanced around at the keepers who had stepped away and were politely getting on with cleaning a corner of the enclosure, pretending not to listen.
‘Covington, I thought I had very clearly explained the consequences of this manner of talk,’ said Mr Darwin, ‘my reputation is at the most delicate stage—’
‘It is the truth, sir. You have to help them,’ I said, meeting his eyes, pleading, dismayed to feel a sob in the back of my throat. ‘We have to send them . . . back.’
‘Back? You don’t know what you are asking—’
‘Mr Darwin, sir,’ a park warden in black uniform interrupted.
‘What is it, man?’ snapped Mr Darwin. I had never heard him speak like that to a stranger before.
‘I am afraid you must leave,’ said the warden.
‘Impossible. We have only just arrived, and have important scientific work—’
‘Nothing I can do, sir, the park must be empty for this particular guest—’
‘Thank you, Chatham, that will do. These are no ordinary visitors,’ interrupted a new voice, clear and high as a bell, and with a clipped upper class accent I’d rarely heard the like of.
I turned at the same time as Mr Darwin. Outside the enclosure stood a woman dressed in an apple-green silk gown, sparkling with fancy embroidery. She tipped back her lace parasol to reveal a serious girlish face, framed with glossy brown ringlets. A retinue of guards and companions gathered behind her.
‘Your Majesty,’ Darwin stuttered, bowing deeply.
It was Victoria, the Queen of England.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
‘Your Majesty,’ I repeated, and bowed too, painfully aware of my muddy gaiters, peasant’s neckerchief and rough waistcoat. I was dressed for an animal enclosure, not a royal visit. Mr Darwin had mentioned that the new queen herself had taken an interest in the dragons, but I hadn’t dreamt we would see her here. The coronation had only been little more than a year ago and she looked younger in person than I had expected. Our queen was yet to turn twenty, closer to my age than to Mr Darwin’s.
‘You are Mr Darwin’s servant, the boy who found my remarkable dragons in their eggs?’ she said.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I managed, bowing again, but thinking of the word ‘my’. She was staking her claim.
‘Well, come forward, no need for ceremony. I am sure I was the last person you were expecting to see. What is your name again? I will speak with you and your master, both.’
Myself and Mr Darwin stepped forward at the same time, and I forced myself to meet her grey gaze.
‘My name is Syms Covington, ma’am,’ I said, hardly able to believe I was talking to the Queen.
‘Of course it is, I remember Mr Darwin spoke quite at length of your bravery at my Royal Society luncheon. I would like to read your own account of events on Narborough Island some time – I do so adore a tale of survival against the odds. Almost as much as I enjoy the sight of exotic and intriguing animals. Like my dragons here.’ She frowned, and shook her finger at my master as if he were a naughty child. ‘Their health deteriorates. This is unacceptable, as I have become most fond of them. What is your answer to this, Mr Darwin?’
The young queen’s eyes were wide and expectant, used to receiving the answer she wanted, when she wanted it.
‘We have improved their diet and provided more shelter, to make the area more similar to the natural—’
‘I know what has been done, but it has clearly not been effective,’ said the Queen, dismissing him with a wave of the hand. ‘Look at them. They are quiet, listless, off their food. Now, I would like to know what is going to be done, before we lose one of these dear creatures.’
Mr Darwin cleared his throat and although I did not look at him, I knew his face would be reddening.
Mr Darwin might not be willing to help me, but maybe the Queen of England would.
‘Your Majesty,’ I said, barely able to believe I was speaking in Mr Darwin’s p
lace, and directly to the Queen, ‘the lizards must be returned to their home. Some animals don’t do well in captivity and they are the last of their kind. Ma’am.’
I bowed. When I rose, I saw Mr Darwin’s cheeks were red and his lips a thin line. I avoided his eyes.
‘Returned to their home? The . . . Galapagos Islands?’ said the Queen, her eyebrows arching.
This was it. While Farthing and the others were still strong enough to make the voyage, the Queen would make it happen. They could be released on the biggest island, Albemarle, into the lava tubes . . .
‘Impossible!’ her laugh tinkled high, but to me it sounded like a funeral bell.
‘Covington. You found them, you witnessed them in their environs. They are cave dwellers, are they not?’
‘Yes, ma’am, they seem to be, although there were far from scientific observations—’
She waved her hand again, cutting me off. ‘Of course they were not scientific. You were a terrified young boy, left alone, marooned amidst a volcanic eruption!’
Behind, her retinue laughed with her. I supposed I should be flattered the Queen knew of me, but I felt like I was their entertainment.
The Queen leant in closer, her eyes suddenly shrewd. She tapped my arm once with her small white-gloved hand, and lowered her voice.
‘I have decided I will make my interest in Darwin’s Dragons official. These animals will be protected under a royal charter, meaning they belong to the monarchy.’ She didn’t stop, so I didn’t have time to figure out what this would mean for Farthing and the others. ‘I will discuss my plans only with you, Covington, and Mr Darwin,’ she added as an afterthought, ‘as you know the animals best. I will send a carriage at nine p.m. one week from today.’
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