by Joan Aiken
'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 any more. 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 neighbour 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 the 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 ray fault I never got no schooling.'
'No, that is true,' he apologised. '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 577?'
'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 panelled 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, plate 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 Die-hards?' 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 new-fangled 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 honour.
'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, endeavoured to appear quite at her ease. She sat down opposite the captain as if she dined at this 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 New Cumbria.'
He paused, as if expecting to be questioned, but as Dido continued quietly spooning up her soup, 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 ma
ny 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 'ud 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 favour.'
In fact he had thought nothing of the sort.
'We have Reason to Believe,' the British Agent in Trinidad had written to Admiral HoUingsworth, 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 Gome to her Assistance. Do, Pray, Admiral HoUingsworth, 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 Protegees 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 ploughs 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 don't 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 curtsey – '
'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 back-board, 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 towards the door. Noticing her glum looks, Captain Hughes remarked sharply,
'And no sulks, if you please! I shall expect a livelier obedience that 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.'
'Blister me!' muttered Dido, startled out of her gloom. 'What are they called – them big birds? Lucky we don't have them in Battersea, or it'd be short commons for the sparrows.'
'Their correct designation is Rocs,' said Captain Hughes. 'But I understand the Cumbrians refer to them as Aurocs – because of the tusks, presumably. So you see it is imperative that, while we are in that land, you behave yourself obediently – let there be no quirks, or foolish capers, I beg!'
'Reckon there won't be time,' said Dido. 'We'll be too busy dodging the snakes and alligotamoses – not to mention them Awe-rocks. G'night, Cap.'
She quietly shut the door behind her and glanced into the galley, hoping to find Mr Holystone. One thing: I'm glad he's coming along, she thought. He's a right handy cove; daresay he'll be a regular one-er when it comes to dealing with giant spiders and bats and Awe-rocks.
But Mr Holystone was not in his galley.
And, strangely enough, Dido thought she recognised the back view of Silver Taffy, walking away along the corridor.
What was he doing in Mr Holystone's galley? she wondered.
The cat, El Dorado, emerged from a place of concealment in the galley coal-scuttle, and came to wrap her long tail twice round Dido's ankles, clad in dark-blue duffel trousers and regulation-blue worsted socks.
'Hey, puss!' said Dido. 'Lucky Taffy didn't see you or he'd likely have poured a pot of shark soup over you. Are you coming to New Cumbria too? I'd not give a groat for your chances if you stayed on board without Mr Holy to keep an eye on you. How about coming to share my bunk?'
The kitchen slate was hanging on the wall. It contained the notes:
'Weevils in flour. Tell Quartermaster. Fish for Cap brek. Shark again?'
Dido added at the foot: 'Hav tuk Dora to bedd. Cap sez you gotta lern me Maners. D.'
Then she retired to her tiny cabin, scrubbed her teeth with a rope's end, and clambered into her bunk, where Dora was already purring.
'Well,' she yawned, 'I guess us'll have some fine larks in New Cumbria – hey, Dora? With the silver cobbles and the hairy spiders – maybe the cobbles'll come in handy for beaning the spiders . . .'
Presently the door opened softly and Dido felt the blanket twitched off her feet.
'Hey,' she muttered, 'you're tickling – ' Then she was suddenly wide awake, bolt upright. 'Murder, is it one o' them spiders – ? Oh, it's you, Mr Holy – what the blazes are you doing to my toes?'
'We are in cockroach latitudes,' replied Mr Holystone, who held a little bottle of dark-green liquid and a paintbrush.
'They swim out from land. So you must paint your toes every night, and your fingers, with this cactus oil. I thought I might do it without waking you.' He passed her the bottle.
'What if you don't?' inquired Dido, industriously pa
inting away at her toes.
'Cockroaches come into bed and nibble; you wake up next day with half a dozen toes missing.'
'Oh.'
'Good night, Miss Dido,' said Holystone, and took the bottle from her.
'Mr Holy, Silver Taffy was in your pantry – why? What'd he come there for?'
'He came to steal the pigeon,' Mr Holystone replied. Dido could feel anger beneath his calm.
'The pigeon? What for? To eat?'
'No, no. He sent it off – Mr Multiple saw him toss it over the side.'
'With a message? Who'd he want to send a message to?'
'How can we tell? To some of his piratical friends, maybe.'
Frowning to himself, Mr Holystone withdrew, and closed the door.
Dido went back to sleep, and dreamed of hairy cockroaches, bigger than horses, with tusks thirty feet long.
2
Even with the added power of her steam-screw, it took the Thrush a week to make her way down the coast of Roman America as far as Tenby. For three days, while they were crossing the equator, the weather became outrageously hot, and, as Mr Holystone had prophesied, cockroaches came on board in large numbers. They were a great nuisance, turning up in wholly unsuitable places, the crow's nest, the captain's bath, the compass and the quartermaster's molasses jar.
Dido had a busy and aggravating week.
'Love a duck! Why did I ever let myself in for this lay?' she grumbled, when obliged by the exacting Mr Holystone to walk up and down outside the wardroom door with a copy of the heavy King's Regulations balanced on her head, in order to acquire a more dignified and ladylike posture.
'Plenty of girls would give their eye-teeth to meet a queen,' observed Mr Holystone. He was sitting in his galley, so that he could keep an eye on her through the open door, while he stuffed half-a-dozen flying fish with a mixture of minced, barnacles and powdered hardtack. 'When I did my butler's training in London there was a young ladies' finishing-school in the same building. All the girls talked about was the day when they would make their curtsey before His Majesty King James III.'
'Finishing school?' growled Dido. 'That's a right good name for it. It's liable to finish me, I can tell you.'