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“Would you like something to drink? Milk?”
Felicity nodded assent, and then frowned. “I don’t see any milk.”
“Look around. I’m sure you will,” I said.
Her eyes traveled the rather small room, and when they returned to the table, a glass of milk sat before her. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“Help yourself,” I said.
Felicity touched the glass with a fingertip and then drew it closer until she could sniff the contents. With a lingering look of doubt upon me, she drank. Half of the milk remained when she licked her lips and asked, “Where did you get this?” She looked under the table. When she sat up, the glass was full again.
The girl blinked rapidly, and then her eyes darted from object to object in confusion. She asked, “How did you do that?”
I smiled. “Do you always believe only what you can see? Or do you believe in things you ca
Her eyebrows nearly touched as she thought. “Only what I can see is real,” she answered.
I pointed to the glass. “Is the milk real?”
“Of course it is, silly.” To prove it, she drank more milk, all the while keeping her eyes on me. My, my, such suspicion. When she replaced the glass on the table, it was once more full to the brim.
For several moments she stared at the glass before daring to look at me. “How did you do that?”
I shrugged and asked, “What is in that pouch?”
She had placed a velvet pouch on the table when she joined me. At the mention of it, she didn’t hesitate to open the strings that closed it and dump the contents on the table between us.
“These are my jacks. This is the ball you play jacks with,” Felicity said.
She tossed the ball, which was about the size and color of an apricot, into the air, and caught it again. On the second toss, she deftly picked up several of the tiny metal stars scattered on the table. “Do you know how to play?” she asked and without waiting for a reply added, “Of course, you have to pick up all the stars and not lose the ball.”
With that admonition, Felicity threw the ball into the air again. It hung, suspended between us, above her head. Her eyes grew as wide as her little face. Before she could cry, the ball descended again. Slowly.
Her hand automatically reached for the metal stars. Felicity squeaked and stood up. The stars had become tiny frogs made of the finest crystal. Even in the muted daylight, they reflected light delightfully.
“Oh, my!” the child exclaimed and gathered them into her hands. The ball bounced off the table and into my trunk.
I ushered Felicity to the door. The pouch of crystal frogs was clutched in both of her hands. As I reached for the door handle, she asked, “May I come visit you again?”
“Certainly. But only if the guard is asleep. This is our secret.” I placed a finger to my lips. By the time we reached Seville, I might even have a young apprentice to teach some less sinister magic tricks to.
Felicity put a finger to her lips and then slipped out the door with a giggle.
The ship’s bell had sounded the next hour when boots thundered on the wooden deck. Voices raised the alarm. Above the commotion, Captain Hume’s oaths could be heard outside my door: “Damnation! Wiggins is dead! Get that doctor out here.”
“What for?” It sounded like a sailor located in the rigging above me. He apparently had an excellent view of my newly departed guard. “His throat has been cut open like a pig’s.”
Sounds of more of the curious arriving, then the extreme a
“Captain!” Dr. Perideaux bellowed.
“Yes, Doctor.”
“This man is not sick. He has been murdered.” The doctor’s voice shook, and his words were measured. “You are responsible for every act upon this ship!”
“I am aware of that,” Captain Hume replied with just as much control.
“Did your prisoner do it?” Dr. Perideaux inquired.
I noted a significant hesitation before the captain answered, “That would be impossible.”
Someone tried the handle on my door. It remained locked.
“How do you know your prisoner is in there?” Dr. Perideaux demanded.
“Because I am sure he is,” Captain Hume said. “Here… is the key to the door. As you can see, it was still in the guard’s pocket. However, I will humor you.”
I yawned and waited.
As the door opened, the dying sun streamed into my cabin, bringing warmth against the approaching evening. The captain filled the doorway. From over his shoulder, the doctor peered inside.
I put down my book and stood. “Come in. I’m afraid I ca
Dr. Perideaux’s curiosity won out. He pushed by Captain Hume and into the room. I had been correct. We were of the same height, well over six foot. Our builds were similar too; I could have traded waistcoats with him. Mine, however, would have been finer than the rather dated one the doctor wore.
I bowed. “May I introduce myself? Jonas Celwyn, lately of Singapore and Madagascar.”
Captain Hume kicked the door shut and advanced to stand between us. He removed his hat, revealing a glistening sheen on his balding dome. A bead of perspiration trickled onto his ear.
“Doctor, this is not wise. As you can see, the prisoner is still here. He is in a locked room from which he could not have murdered the guard. Come along, please.”
“What were you charged with, sir?” Dr. Perideaux ignored the tug on his sleeve as he addressed me.
I shrugged. “If I were to list all of the nefarious crimes I’d been charged with, we would still be here long after the di
“I repeat, what were you convicted of?” Dr. Perideaux’s tone sounded much colder than a Bavarian street in winter.
Captain Hume gave up tugging on his sleeve and yanked open the cabin door. He gestured to one of his officers. “Johnson. Come in here. Escort Dr. Perideaux back to his cabin. Now.”
The doctor didn’t budge. He stood so close I could see the flecks of gold in his irises. The stubborn line of his lips indicated the crew would have to carry him out before he’d accede to the captain’s order.
“Get him out of here,” Captain Hume growled.
Officer Johnson reached for Perideaux. The officer started to speak, but his words turned to a strangled gasp as his hand passed through the doctor’s forearm, not once, but twice.
As Dr. Perideaux watched his sleeve in fascinated horror, I replied, “Something so ridiculous. Witchcraft.”
A supremely talented and creative magician would have been a more accurate portrayal.
MY assessment of the good doctor had been correct. He was a persistent cuss. It couldn’t have been another hour before I became aware of the doctor in whispered conversation with my newest guard. I didn’t even have to lean against the door to hear them.
“… have items you’d like to buy when we reach port,” Dr. Perideaux said.
The guard grunted. “Course I do.”
“Perhaps this would prove useful to you?”
“Aye, it would. It sure would. For this much you can sniff around this bastard’s door for more than a moment.” The guard laughed. “I have to go to the head, and I’m sure I’ll be gone awhile.”
In a moment I heard a slight scratching sound outside the door. From the porthole I could make out the lower half of the doctor as he crouched beside my door. It appeared he was examining the door hinges.
BY the next morning, the day brought stronger wind and vigorous waves. The LeHa