by G. P. Taylor
‘I think it would be best if we went to Deck 13,’ she said with a click of her fingers. ‘Casper will see to everything.’
[7]
Tiger, Tiger
MARIAH woke up and stared at the ceiling. He could see his dim reflection in the polished gilt that covered the ornate surface above him. This was not his cabin, he thought to himself as he tried to lift his head from the soft silk-lined pillow. Everything was bright and bold and glistened slightly. In the room were a narrow bed, a chair, a bookcase brimming with leather-bound volumes and a brass spyglass on a large stand. On every wall was an electric light set in an ornate tortoiseshell cover. There was a large window to his left. The glass was set in a brass frame that could not be opened and on either side were thick drapes of embroidered green silk.
For a moment he thought he was dead and that this place was heaven or even possibly hell. Mariah hadn’t made his mind up as to which would be preferable. It was something he didn’t feel he should consider until he was much older. Yet there was a nagging doubt in his mind that he could be nearer to having to decide than he wanted.
He was aware of every breath that he took. His lungs burnt and his eyes felt sore. Whatever had happened the night before had exhausted him. Pulling the covers to his face, he turned over. The room was so designed that from the bed you could look through the window. Mariah could see that he was high up on the ship. It was daylight and he could smell tea. By the window was his trunk and on that a silver tray, one porcelain cup and a large teapot. To one side was a covered salver and, next to that, two eggs wrapped in small knitted caps. Beside the eggs were plates of toast and neatly cut beef sandwiches.
There was a gentle tap at the door. The handle turned and Biba DeFeaux looked inside.
‘I had them bring you breakfast,’ she said, remarkably confident for someone who had once been terrified to silence by a large bear. ‘Captain Charity told me what you liked.’
‘Is he here?’ asked Mariah.
‘No, he and my father have gone to look at the gold bullion. Casper is here to look after us. They say that you were going to throw yourself from the ship,’ she said as she walked to the trunk. She poured Mariah a cup of tea and handed it to him.
‘I can’t remember what happened. I just remember dreaming,’ he replied.
‘I was made to see a psychiatrist. They thought the bear had made me quite mad,’ she said as she twisted the silver chain around her neck.
‘Why didn’t you speak when we met last night?’ Mariah asked.
‘I don’t. Well, not when I first meet someone. I didn’t like the look of you – you seemed ordinary. Lorenzo isn’t ordinary, he has his own skyship and a boat that goes under water and a father who is a genius … What does your father do?’ she asked, her words gushing like water from a tap.
‘He does nothing,’ he replied. ‘He’s –’
‘That’s why you are ordinary,’ she went on clumsily. ‘I even bet that you went to school. I had tutors and my father employed children to play with me.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Mariah muttered, hoping Biba would be struck dumb with the fear of bears yet again.
‘I think I should take you around the ship. My father owns it and soon the Triton will be seen as the fastest ship in the world.’
‘I don’t feel too well,’ Mariah tried to say as Biba pressed a plate of toast and butter into his hands.
‘Just a matter of food,’ she said sharply. ‘They say that if you eat, it makes you well. I try to avoid eating at all costs. I have a theory that we can get all the goodness we need from the sun – just like plants.’
‘What if you live in Greenland? The sun doesn’t shine for weeks,’ he asked as he attempted to eat the toast that tasted somewhat unusual.
‘It’s not the eating, but the digestion that I don’t like,’ she went on as if she wasn’t really interested in anything he said. ‘Anyway, I will never go to Greenland again.’
‘Were you there for long?’ he asked casually.
‘Just a few weeks. My father owns the harbour where Lorenzo Zane designed the Triton. That’s where they built the skyship.’
‘Did you see it?’ asked Mariah.
‘I flew in it,’ she replied, and she spread out her arms like wings. ‘It took us all the way to Nova Scotia and then we sailed back to England on the Ketos.’
‘And what about the polar bear?’ he asked dangerously.
The question silenced Biba. She took a boiled egg from the tray and held it in the palm of her hand. Biba looked at it for a moment and then crushed it in her fingers.
‘Casper shot it. He said he’d shoot anything or anyone that tries to hurt me,’ she snapped. ‘Why were you on the gangplank walking into the sea? I thought you would have drowned quite easily if Charity hadn’t saved you.’
‘I can’t remember. It all seems so unreal. I can recall going into my room and then nothing else. I dreamt I was over the sea, following someone, an old friend – but that couldn’t be, he’s dead.’
‘A ghost – is that what made you do it? A ghost … Who was it?’ she gabbled. ‘My father once paid a man to talk to the dead. We went to his house and furniture started to move and dance about. There were voices coming from the walls. He said he could converse with the departed, but Casper found his assistant hiding in a cupboard. So he locked them both in and left them there.’ Biba paused for breath.
‘Why should your father pay to hear people talk to the dead?’ Mariah asked as a thread like a memory of the night before wound its way into his mind.
‘Because he never does anything without knowing what they say,’ she quipped as she skipped from the room. ‘I think you should dress and then I’ll take you on a journey …’
Mariah got up from the bed and dressed. Every fibre of his body tingled. He looked in the mirror and saw the face of someone older, a stranger. He remembered a moment of what had happened. It was a glimpse of Topher standing in the room, the pool of water about his feet. This time he could see the eyes of the boy. They were dark and empty. The life had been taken from them.
It took him longer to dress than he thought possible. His body ached and every nerve seemed to be on fire. It was as if he had shrunk in the night, for everything he put on felt as if it had been made for another. Remembering what Charity had told him, he strapped one pistol to his ankle and the other he placed in his jacket pocket.
Mariah realised that for some reason he was now a guest of the Marquis DeFeaux. Perhaps, he thought, it had been Charity’s idea to keep him safe; or perhaps it had just been a coincidence. Whatever was the case, Mariah dressed and was eventually ready to leave the room. He took the meat from three beef sandwiches, folded it neatly in his hankersniff, rolled it up and put it in his pocket.
‘Do you always take this long?’ Biba asked as he stepped through the door into an even larger and more ornate room. She had changed her clothes and was now dressed as a Sultan. On her head was a silk turban with a jewelled brooch and in the belt around her waist was a curved dagger.
‘I had trouble finding my things,’ he said, not knowing what else to say and feeling underdressed.
‘Then we shall all go on our journey,’ Biba replied as she began to pull on a long gold chain that led from the room and into the corridor outside.
There was a low moaning sound that quickly turned into a growl. The chain tightened – whatever was on the other end did not want to be drawn near. Biba wrapped the chain around her hand and pulled harder.
‘Is there something –’ Mariah tried to ask.
‘Rollo never does what I want,’ she tutted as the growls grew louder. ‘He’s the kind of tiger that makes you very irritated.’
‘Tiger?’ Mariah asked, taking a step back to his room.
‘A pure white tiger – he would make a lovely coat, but mother thinks that would be cruel. Just a kitten really,’ she replied in her madly matter-of-fact way.
‘Isn’t it dangerous to have a tiger?’ he a
sked.
‘We have seven tigers – all snow white – and an ostrich. In fact on Deck 5 some of the animals perform in the circus.’ Biba gloated as she spoke, as if this were something to be marvelled at. Mariah was not too sure. He had once seen a monkey locked in a cage in a department store. It was quite mad and spent its time spitting water at passers-by.
‘So it lives in a cage – on a ship?’ he asked.
‘It knows nothing else. I did want to take it to Greenland but thought it might get lost or be too cold,’ Biba replied.
Just then a large white face appeared around the door and looked in.
Mariah stared at the creature that stood before him. It had long white fur that looked to be tipped with silver flakes. The tiger stared at him through its yellow eyes as if it wanted to eat him. Then Rollo sat in the doorway. The gold chain was fixed to a studded collar around its neck.
‘It’s bigger than I thought,’ Mariah said as the tiger twitched its nose.
‘Just a kitten, really, not even a year old,’ Biba replied as she went up to the beast and stroked its head. ‘A big softie and not to be scared of. Although,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘it doesn’t like small dogs.’
Mariah felt thankful he was not a small dog. He asked, ‘Why doesn’t it like dogs?’
‘When I took it to Paris, we were walking by the Hotel Deville. A Frenchman came towards us with a small terrier. Rollo snapped it from the pavement in one bite. My father paid the man not to take us to court.’
‘Ate it in one bite?’ Mariah asked, astounded that a tiger could do such a thing.
‘The man didn’t seem to mind. He said the dog belonged to his wife and perhaps now he would be better treated,’ Biba replied. ‘I thought Rollo could come with us – I have to take him back to his cage. You will join us, won’t you?’
Mariah did not like the idea of walking around the ship in the company of a girl whom he thought to be mad, and who was dressed as a Sultan, and a large tiger.
‘Of course,’ he heard himself saying with a smile.
‘Good,’ said Biba firmly.
They left the room and walked the long corridor towards the steam elevator. Mariah realised that he and Captain Charity had their own apartment at the far end of Deck 13. They went through a regal lounge with gold sofas and chandeliers, passed the room where they had had dinner and eventually they arrived at the steam elevator.
‘Isn’t Casper Vikash coming to protect you?’ Mariah asked.
‘I don’t need Casper when I have Rollo with me, not on the Triton. Everyone on board is a specially invited guest – my father knows them all.’
‘Doesn’t he have enemies?’ Mariah asked, remembering what Charity had said.
‘If he did –’ Biba stopped speaking just as the elevator arrived. ‘I think we should start at the circus,’ she said as the three got into the compartment and Biba pressed the button for Deck 5.
It soon became apparent to Mariah that Rollo didn’t like the steam elevator. The tiger pressed itself against him and growled loudly as they hurtled down the decks. Every thick white hair stood up on the creature’s back as if it were just a frightened tabby-cat. It shook fearfully as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Then, as soon as it saw the people waiting outside, the tiger revived itself like an actor about to start a great performance.
The few passengers who had found their way to the lower decks parted as Biba walked towards them followed by the tiger and a reluctant Mariah.
‘It’s just here,’ Biba said, dragging the now regal tiger along on its gold chain. ‘I have the key to his cage and can come and get him whenever I want.’
‘And how often is that?’ Mariah asked as he followed her along the windowless corridor that led to a door marked Circus.
‘Every day. Well, that is what I would like, but my father insists I study with my tutor and practise my shooting with Casper.’ Biba left her words in the air as she opened the door to the circus.
Inside the door was a man in a grey uniform. He had a large moustache that drooped down like the teeth of a walrus. He looked at Biba and tried to smile as if it were expected of him.
‘Not open yet, Miss,’ he said, but Biba ignored him.
‘On the contrary, Mr Blake, it is always open to me. We are taking Rollo back to his cage.’
The man nodded. It was pointless to argue with Biba DeFeaux.
What he saw next amazed Mariah. It was as if the whole of the rear of Deck 5 had been magically turned into a colossal circus tent. The high ceiling was clad with candy-striped cloth. Ropes hung down for a trapeze and sawdust covered the floor. In the middle was a circus ring of wooden boxes surrounded by stacked seats. Mariah gawped. It was the biggest theatre he had ever seen.
‘This is a real circus?’ Mariah asked. ‘With clowns and acrobats?
‘And animals,’ Biba said with a smile. ‘The cages are there.’
Biba pointed into the distance, towards the far side of the auditorium. Mariah could see a row of neatly painted cages. Each one had a striped roof, walls of black iron bars and five wooden steps leading to a grille doorway. A tarpaulin hung like a thick, heavy curtain around the base of each cage, covering its wheels from view.
‘They live in there?’ Mariah said as he caught sight of several more white tigers, each in its own cage.
‘They can hardly live with the passengers,’ Biba replied as she slipped the chain from Rollo and he bounded across the circus ring.
They followed on and Biba took a key from her pocket and unlocked the door to one of the cages. She said, ‘He doesn’t like going in, but when he performed on the Ketos he was found in the kitchen eating all the meat.’
‘The Ketos?’ Mariah asked as he wondered why Rollo should have been on that ship.
‘My father owned the Ketos as well as the Triton. He sold the Ketos to Lord Bonham. The Triton really will be the fastest ship in the world if father says so …’
Mariah didn’t have to ask her what she meant. It was obvious to him that if the Marquis demanded, the Triton would win the Great Race.
‘But the Triton still has to beat the record set by the Ketos to win the prize,’ he said as Biba locked the door of the cage and left Rollo whimpering in a corner like a scalded cat.
Biba giggled and walked off. Mariah looked at the other tigers locked in their cages. They were all bigger than Rollo. A solitary old cat, pure white and tinged with grey, gazed at him. It seemed to plead with its eyes and looked forlorn and broken. The beast lay in its cramped cage in obvious and desperate misery. As Mariah walked by it twitched a lazy eyelid and showed its yellowed teeth.
‘That’s Eduardo – he’s a killer,’ Biba said proudly, admiring the once magnificent beast. ‘My father found him in a circus in Milan. He had eaten his wrangler – but the man had been cruel to the tiger and tigers never forget. They had wanted to kill him.’
‘So you have a man-eater in your circus?’ Mariah asked.
‘People love him. We never let him out – far too dangerous,’ Biba replied as she walked on.
Mariah looked deep into the tiger’s fireless eyes. He knew that they had never stared upon any forest of the night. He reached into his pocket and brought out the hankersniff. Mariah picked out the slices of beef in his fingers and put them in the cage.
‘Did He who made the lamb make thee, Eduardo?’ Mariah asked in a whisper as the tiger ate the meat and purred like a farm cat with a mouse.
‘It’s no use talking to him, Mariah. Eduardo is completely deaf,’ Biba said as she took him by the arm and pulled him away. ‘All he understands is a stick across the head.’
Mariah looked back to the tiger. Their eyes met again.
‘And you have an ostrich?’ Mariah asked.
‘And three snakes and until last year a kangaroo – but he jumped overboard and was eaten by sharks,’ she scoffed.
Mariah was amazed as the thought of an escaping kangaroo fleeted through his mind. ‘Really? By sharks?’
Mariah was dragged on by the ever more impatient Biba DeFeaux. They nodded at Mr Blake as they left the circus. He twitched his long white moustache and eyed them nervously at the same time, muttering under his breath.
Instead of taking the steam elevator, Biba and Mariah walked up the stairs at the end of the corridor. A golden carved handrail spiralled up to the next deck. Biba talked as she went ahead. It was mostly about herself and Mariah quickly realised that she was manifestly lonely.
‘I wish I had been visited in the night by a ghost,’ she said as they got to the door to Deck 6.
‘It was not as agreeable as you may think,’ he said as he was suddenly confronted with hordes of smartly dressed passengers waiting in the lobby of the Oceanic Theatre. Mariah stared at the babble of elegantly attired women with their cosmopolitan companions. One thing he found strange was that there were no children.
‘I guess there must be a luncheon matinee,’ Biba said, unaware of the man in a drab suit who had followed them up the stairs and through the door and now waited in the shadows of the overhead stairway.
[8]
Dead Gold
‘IT is strange that the Bureau of Antiquities should pay such attention to a few bars of gold, Captain Charity,’ the Marquis said as they stood in the empty foyer of the grand entrance hall and looked at the glass-encased tomb of gold.