by B A Simmons
Edwin was indeed aboard the Anna Louisa. He, James, and Eugene had spent several days before Mark and Anna’s wedding working on another secret project. They were so protective of this that even Pete had been barred from coming aboard. Initially, this hadn’t bothered Pete as Alphina Smith was disposed to spend more time with him than ever before. Yet, when Max Claythorne became involved in the project, Pete put his foot down.
He had witnessed Edwin taking a bottle over to Max’s skiff, presenting it as a gift. The next day, after Max returned to the harbor, Edwin was anxious to greet him. Max had hardly tied his boat to the dock when Edwin was right there asking him questions. Max was too drunk to bother answering, but Pete’s interest was piqued when the bottle Edwin had given him was thrust back into his hands with a scowl from Max.
Pete immediately demanded to know what Edwin was up to.
“I’ll tell you when I’m ready, Pete,” Edwin told him with a look of disfavor.
Only Pete wasn’t about to wait. Later that afternoon, when Max had emerged from his house again, Pete ambushed him.
“Max, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal-o-mine,” Pete said brandishing an unopened bottle of ale. “I wanted to thank you. You know, if it hadn’t been for you selling us the Entdecker, we’d never have had so much success.”
“What are you up to?”
“Whatever do you mean, Max?” Pete said, barely masking his sarcastic tone.
Max huffed. “Is this some kind of joke? You and your pal Edwin are trying to pull something on me, aren’t you?”
“No, truly. I promise this is an honest thank you. Why, what did Edwin do?”
Max eyed the bottle that Pete held out to him. “You take a drink first.”
“I wouldn’t want to spoil a gift by—ˮ
Max shouted, “Drink first, then I’ll accept your gift!”
Pete unsealed the stopper from the bottle and took a polite gulp. Ale was not his preferred drink and it was difficult not to frown as the liquid passed his tongue and washed down his throat.
Max stood there, saying nothing, just watching Pete for several moments. Pete’s smile returned to his face as it seemed he had passed the test. Max snatched the bottle and walked away.
“You’re welcome!” Pete yelled and continued on his way.
The next day, they all left for the raid. Upon returning to the Anna Louisa, Edwin met with James and Eugene and immediately set to work again. He was exasperated though when Rob and Doctor Morris arrived at the docks and called out to him.
“I’m very busy!” he called back in reply to the two visitors.
“Edwin, we must talk with you. This is urgent!” Rob called out again.
With his face surly and scowling, Edwin came to the rail. “What?!” he growled.
“Won’t you let us come aboard?” Doctor Morris said.
“Now is really not a great time.”
Rob’s patience failed him. “We need to borrow your lightning spear! May we?”
“It doesn’t work anymore. Sorry.”
“Does it not work at all, or not enough to do what it used to?” Morris said.
“I don’t know! Just . . . wait there!” Edwin said and he disappeared into the cabin.
A minute later, he reemerged holding the rod. He seemed to have suddenly realized what they were asking of him.
“What are you going to do with it?”
Doctor Morris replied before Rob could say anything. “We promise it will be returned to you in as good of condition as it is right now. We just want to see if there is any power left in it.”
“Why? If there isn’t enough to shock anyone, what’s the use?”
Rob sighed, “Just trust us, Edwin. We won’t hurt it.”
Edwin was torn. He wanted to go with Rob and Doctor Morris to see what they were going to do with his prized possession, but he also wanted to get back to his own project.
“Fine. Here you are,” he said and held the rod out to them. “I’ll lend it to you on condition that if I need your help with something . . . something secret, then you’ll help me.”
“That sounds fair,” Morris said and took the rod from Edwin’s hands.
Edwin turned and rejoined James and Eugene on the deck. He took one last look at the two men with the silver contraption as they walked back into the town of Port John. He could not afford distractions now, he felt they were so close to figuring out the right mixture.
“Edwin,” James called out. “It’s ready.”
James and Eugene were huddled around the Anna Louisa’s cooking box. Just like that of the Entdecker, this box of sand was big enough to hold two copper pots. Each of these pots was boiling with a grayish-green concoction. James and Eugene had spent the better part of the last hour stirring them constantly.
“Good. Now we’ve just got to get Max to accept another gift,” Edwin said, though his voice did not display confidence.
“Is he going to trust you after the last one?” Eugene said. “He accused you of trying to poison him.”
Edwin thought for a moment. “We’ll have to be more subtle about it. If he won’t accept something handed to him, then we’ll have to slip it into his drink. That’s the beauty of using Max as our test subject, he’s always drinking.”
“Umm . . . how exactly do we be subtle?” James said doubtfully.
A voice from behind the cabin answered them.
“I think I can help you with that.”
All three of them turned suddenly to face the voice. They each looked as if they’d been caught stealing from their mothers’ kitchens. Pete stood leaning against the mast with a satisfied smirk spread wide across his face.
“What are you doing here?” Edwin said.
“I’ve come to help. To be honest, Edwin, I’m a little hurt that you decided not to trust me with this secret project. After all, it was I who helped you with the last one.”
“Look Pete, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I just figured that the fewer who knew about this the more likely it would stay a secret.”
“I’ll take that as an apology,” Pete said as he strode past Edwin to peer into the pots that James and Eugene had taken off the fire to cool. “It’s a weak apology but acceptable . . . for now. You can make it up to me after I get Max to drink more of your . . . whatever this is.”
Eugene looked at Edwin who seemed annoyed but too exhausted to argue.
“It’s an elixir. Made from—ˮ
“Shut up Eugene!” James yelled at his brother.
“He already knows about it! Edwin’s obviously going to let him help. Right, Edwin?”
Edwin remained silent for a moment considering all his options. Everything he had learned about Pete in the last year had shown him that he was not only trustworthy but quite innovative.
He looked at Pete and saw the friendly smirk still curling his mouth. “I should have brought you in on it from the beginning. Tell us how you intend to get Max to drink this again?”
Pete laughed, “Sure, it’s simple. He trusts me still and as long as he doesn’t think I’m part of your scheme, he’ll continue to trust me. But we can’t give him this.”
“Why not?” James said, feeling defensive of his work.
Pete wrinkled his nose. “Because I could smell this all the way over at the Entdecker. Even mixed with ale, he’s gonna take one whiff and throw it over the side of his little boat. I can only imagine how horrible it must taste.”
“We don’t have any distilling gear,” James complained. “We’ve been boiling the toadstool to try and extract the juice from it.”
“Toadstool? Where in the world did you get toadstool?”
“On Fishhook,” Edwin confessed. “The people there eat it straight and according to what we saw . . . and what Eugene experienced . . . well, let’s just say it has some medicinal properties.”
“You need an apothecary.”
“Yes, we know that. But we can’t just go to Bill Turl. He can’t keep a secret to save his life.”
“Where?” James said. “Where can we go to find a trustworthy professional? We’re at war and the enemy is between us and every other island.”
“I’m sure we can find someone on Copper Isle or Isle de James,” Pete said. “And isn’t Edwin the king of Fishhook Isle now? I’m sure they would allow you to pass through their waters to avoid the Falcons.”
“Yes, we’ll need to go back to Fishhook anyway seeing as that’s where the toadstool comes from,” Eugene said.
“So we go to Fishhook and from there to Isle de James. If we can’t find a suitable apothecary there, we’ll try Copper Isle,” Edwin said.
“I’m sure there are a few errands that will need to be run that way for the war effort. No one else outside the four of us will know about the elixir side business,” Pete agreed.
“For now . . .” James said.
“If we’re as successful as we plan, eventually others will have to know about it,” Edwin said.
“We’re still going to try this out on Max, right?” Eugene said.
Edwin turned and looked expectantly at Pete.
Pete grinned broadly again. “I take it he didn’t like the taste when you gave it to him the first time?”
“He didn’t even try it. He said it smelled putrid and therefore couldn’t have tasted good. We’ve boiled this batch much longer to try to get more of the smell out,” Edwin said.
“That will be a problem. Oh well, I think I know what to do. Bottle it up and I’ll give it a go.”
“One more thing,” Eugene said. “The effects if he drinks it . . . may cause him to see things. Things that aren’t real. That’s something you should know. Keep him away from dangerous objects if you can.”
“We can only guess how it might affect a man as heavily self-medicated as Max Claythorne,” Edwin said.
Pete smiled wider still. “Still, thanks for the warning.”
Pete took the bottle James handed to him and nearly dropped it as he did.
“Ow! It’s still hot. This will need to cool quite a bit before I give it to him to drink. Unless . . .”
Pete gripped the bottle firmly despite the heat and rushed off the Anna Louisa. He walked with determination down the dock toward a modest house just off the pier. After taking a moment to be sure his tunic was straight, he rapped his knuckles on the door.
A few moments later, a frumpish old woman answered. She recognized Pete, as he had regularly been in her home as a child while waiting for his father to return from his fishing excursions. Pete smiled, which brought one to her otherwise scowling face.
“Hello, Missus Claythorne. It’s me, Pete Engleman.”
“Of course, Petey my boy! It’s been so long!”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that. I’m actually here to see Max. Is he home, by chance?”
Missus Claythorne’s smile faded and her familiar frown returned. “That lump of skin? Why do you want to see him?”
“I confess that I don’t. Well, not at the moment. I’ve come to set your mind at ease concerning your son,” Pete answered holding up the bottle.
“Pete Engleman, the last thing my son needs is more drink. You can take that and—”
“Oh, it’s not liquor,” he said. “In fact, it should help cure him of some of that.”
Missus Claythorne looked perplexed and intrigued at the same time. Pete invited himself inside the house and explained to her how the elixir he held would cure Max of his alcoholism should she follow his instructions precisely.
“How much are you selling it for?” she asked anxiously.
“It’s free, with my compliments.”
Her jaw dropped, but a look of skepticism crept onto her face. “Why are you doing this? Are you trying to make a fool of Max? ’Cause I’ll tell you, Pete, I don’t take kindly to such.”
“No, no! I tell you truthfully, I believe this will work. Mix a dollop of this in with his morning porridge, his evening stew, in whatever will hide the smell, and you’ll see.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she said, yet she accepted the bottle all the same. Unplugging the stopper, she stuck her nose over it and recoiled. “I see what you mean about the smell.”
“I’ll be leaving Engle Isle again soon, but when I return, I’ll come to visit Max and check on his progress.”
Missus Claythorne sighed and wished Pete and his crew a safe journey. While still doubtful of the elixir, she was desperate. As it was, he would drink himself into an early grave. What harm could Pete’s potion have on him anyway?
4 – A Heart Divided
As was usual for an afternoon in Port John, the inn run by the FitzHugh family was devoid of patrons. Knowing this to be a near certainty, Doctor Morris led Rob there with the lightning spear in hand. After ordering a couple of drinks from Missus FitzHugh, the two sat at the table farthest from the door. Morris laid the silver rod on the table and retrieved from his tunic the Duarvish tablet.
“Are you sure this is the best place to do this?” Rob said.
“Can you think of a better one?”
Rob thought about this while Morris examined the spear. It was just as he had twisted the handle that Missus FitzHugh brought them their ales. Rob’s heart leapt in his chest as he realized that the motherly innkeeper would not only see the spear but hear the power humming inside it. However, there was no hum and no spark at all. Rob didn’t know if he was more relieved than disappointed. It seemed that their efforts for the lightning spear were for naught.
“Thank you, Nell,” Morris said without looking up at their hostess. For a moment, she eyed the school teacher with fondness for his manners and a curiosity at the spear, then she abruptly turned and walked back to the kitchen.
Before Rob could say anything, Morris twisted the handle back and then with a surprising show of strength, continued twisting the rod. It budged and stuck momentarily before continuing to move with a rusty squeak. The handle began to separate from the rest of the spear. Orange flecks of rust dusted the table as Morris continued to twist. A couple of inches of threaded metal were exposed from inside the spear and then three thin wires appeared. They connected the handle to the shaft of the spear and were each a different color—white, green, and black.
“Aha,” Morris said calmly as if he’d been expecting to see as much from the gadget. As he continued to pull the handle away from the shaft, the wires lengthened and then quite suddenly they pulled a black cylinder from the handle. It popped out and dangled by the three wires above the tabletop.
“What is that?” Rob said.
The old teacher smiled as he carefully touched the oddity. “Power. It’s power,” he said lowly without looking at Rob.
“You mean it’s what powers the spear.”
“Yes. E-lec-tricity,” Morris said, carefully pronouncing the word he’d only spoken a few times before. He continued, “It is the power of lightning . . . bottled up in a small block. Here, you can touch it. It won’t harm you.”
Taking care not to pull too forcefully on the wires, he presented the cylinder to Rob who immediately took it from Morris’s hand. Rob was surprised at how heavy the small object felt to his fingers. He had also thought that it would be warm, given that it held such power as Doctor Morris had described. Instead, it was neither warm nor cool to the touch.
Morris turned his attention to the tablet. Using a small table knife, he scraped at the edges of the Duarvish device until it revealed a thin groove that seemed to run along the edge. He began wiggling the knife blade to insert it into the groove. Rob’s attention shifted to the tablet in time to see Morris twist the blade to pry the tablet apart at the seam.
“You’re breaking it open?” Rob said, his voice conveying the confusion awash in his mind.
“Calm yourself or you really will draw too much attention to us,�
� Morris chided. “To make this work the way I think it’s supposed to, we must connect the power from the lightning spear to the tablet.”
“And that power will reveal the secrets the tablet holds?”
Morris was concentrated on the tablet but still spoke to Rob. “Precisely, now do me a favor and cut those wires as far from the cylinder as you can manage.”
Rob retrieved the work knife he carried on his belt and followed his teacher’s instructions. He was surprised to see the familiar color of copper inside the wires. It was as if they were covered in a layer of white, green, and black paint.
Morris eyed the loose wires and gave further instruction. “Now use your knife blade to strip away the colored coating of all three wires to expose the copper. Be careful not to break the wires. We need a half a finger length of exposed copper.”
Rob paused and eyed the old man. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
Morris avoided Rob’s gaze. “Not at all, I’m truly guessing here.”
A familiar pain settled in Rob’s gut. He knew Morris was lying or at least hiding part of the truth from him. Just as Rob opened his mouth to confront him, Morris spoke again.
“The problem with power . . . is that it never lasts. Take this lightning spear for an example. The cylinder provided it with the power of electricity. Yet because it is very old and has been used quite a bit recently, that power is diminished considerably.”
“What does this have to do with—”
“There is only one true source of power and that is knowledge. Rob, I have knowledge of many things that you’ve never even imagined. You must believe me when I tell you that I desperately wish to pass this knowledge on to you. I’ve waited a long time to find a student of your quality and character.”
Rob felt himself blushing a little. Doctor Morris was now staring him right in the eye.
“Yet as much as I want to tell you everything I know, it would be too much for you to handle right now. Knowledge is best gained a little at a time and for it to really make a difference in your life, you must earn it.”
“Sir, I don’t mean any disrespect . . . I really don’t,” Rob stammered.