‘The Isle of Wight, once the finest seaborne island in the world, was a shadow of its former self. We lost seventeen hundred men and women and three-fifths of all buildings were destroyed in the bombardment. We didn’t set sail again for another nineteen years, and haven’t participated in a Troll War since.’
‘What happened to you?’ asked Curtis after a pause. ‘I mean, you shot two officers.’
Wilson’s expression changed. He sighed, and I saw his shoulders sag.
‘I’ll let you in on a secret,’ he said quietly. ‘Although I was there on that fateful day, I’m not the officer who saved the island. I told it first person to make it more exciting. No, the young man who saved the day was Brent, an officer of considerable resource, resolve and steely-eyed adherence to duty. He’s now Admiral Lord Brent of Cowes, the most decorated officer we have ever honoured.’
There was a pause.
‘So what were you doing on that day?’ I asked.
‘I was the second officer in the starboard rudder control room, the one who was shot by Communications Officer Brent. I should have assumed command from Rudder Captain Gregg and got that rudder hard over on my own initiative, but I didn’t. I was tested, and found wanting. I failed not just myself and the service, but everyone on that island. Consumed by shame, I left the Isle of Wight soon after, never to return.’
Wilson fell silent after he had concluded the story, deep in thought, and after we all agreed that it had been a good story even if it wasn’t his, we spun the bottle again.
A deal with Curtis
This time, the bottle pointed towards the Princess.
‘Goody,’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands. ‘I’ll use this opportunity to explain precisely how the financial futures market works.’
‘This should be a bundle of laughs,’ grumbled Curtis, but the Princess ignored him.
‘The first thing to remember about futures is that they are a contract for the supply of specific goods at a specific price at a specific time in the future—’
‘What was that?’ said Ignatius, staring into the darkness.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ said the Princess crossly, ‘I’m not going to have my fascinating account of financial derivatives sidelined by the old “what was that?” trick.’
‘I thought I heard something too,’ I said, ‘a clinking of tin cans.’
All of a sudden we were on our feet, staring into the darkness. Something was either trying to get through, or had got through and was now inside, staring at us from the darkness.
‘What do we do?’ whispered Curtis.
‘We get ready to scoot up your pod poles,’ said Wilson. ‘Better to be safe than eaten, as the saying goes.’
We started to back off towards our pre-allocated pod poles. And while pre-allocation might seem a bit sad and nerdy and controlling, it can actually save lives if you can imagine sixteen panicked tourists all trying to climb up the same pole. As soon as we were fifteen feet up a lever could be tripped and the first section of ladder would be drawn upwards by an internally falling weight. As you can see, the terrors of the Cambrian Empire have been well catered for over the years.
We were all creeping slowly towards our poles when there was a faint crack and a rustle in a nearby hedge. With images of Snork Badger, Hotax and flesh-eating slugs in our minds, everyone ran for it. There was then a scream from the Princess, and I looked back to see her rolling on the ground.
‘My face!’ she yelled. ‘Get it off me!’
I jumped down and ran towards her. She was clutching her face and there seemed to be a trail of glistening slime up her arm, but if it was a flesh-eating slug, it was a tiddler.
‘Hold still, for admiral’s sake,’ said Wilson, who had reached her first, ‘and we’ll get it off—’
‘Wait!’ I yelled, and they both stopped struggling. I pulled the Princess’s hands away and then plucked … the homing snail from her face.
‘There’s no panic,’ I said, ‘I think this was meant for me. But you know, I think it’s really time to turn in before something genuinely nasty finds us.’
There were mutterings of agreement at this and those already halfway up their pod poles continued on, leaving Wilson, the Princess and me on the ground.
‘If you’re okay,’ said Wilson, ‘I’ll be off to bed.’
‘Thank you,’ said the Princess, and clasped his hand for a moment.
‘It was only a snail,’ replied Wilson, ‘barely dangerous at all.’
‘But you didn’t know that when you came to my aid,’ replied the Princess.
He looked at us both without saying anything, and I detected a sad, resigned look in his eyes.
‘I am bound to help wherever possible,’ he said sadly. ‘I was found wanting once. It won’t happen again.’
‘Is that why you’re out here?’ I asked, realising that Wilson probably wasn’t here for the birdwatching after all.
‘Back home, my name is forever linked with cowards and ditherers. I am here looking for a second chance – a time of extreme jeopardy where my intervention can make a difference.’
That can’t be too difficult out here, surely?’ I asked.
‘You’d be surprised,’ said Wilson, ‘simply saving a life is not enough. My act of contrition has to have far-reaching consequences, so that years from now, someone will say: “Without Wilson, all would have been lost”.’
He sighed, then bid us goodnight.
We wished him the same and he scooted nimbly up his pod pole.
‘I feel a fool to have been frightened,’ said the Princess sadly, wiping the snail-slime off her face with a handkerchief, ‘most unregal. A princess should be resolute in the face of danger, and unflinching. I’d be a rotten queen.’
‘Queenliness is a skill that must be learned,’ I told her, ‘and this is the place to do it.’
‘I hope so,’ she said with a sigh, then added, after a pause: ‘I was so obnoxious to you back at the palace. You must think I’m a complete arse.’
‘Don’t even think about it,’ I replied. ‘You and I are both victims of a random chance of birth: you a princess, me an orphan. But we’re both working against it to improve ourselves.’
‘I suppose technically speaking I’m an orphan too,’ said the Princess, ‘or at least, I will be until I get my body back.’
‘It’s the mind that defines the person,’ I said, ‘not the body.’
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘looks like I am a princess after all. What does the note say?’
I had been unfolding the message stuck to the shell of the homing snail, and let the Princess read it over my shoulder by the light of the nearest fireberry.
Received your msg, contents noted. Use EVERY EFFORT to secure return of Perkins, then find Rubber Colin. Will be waiting at the conch seven tomorrow if possible, much happening and not any of it good, take no risks with yourself or the handmaiden and carry on search for EofZ with all determination. Raining here in Hereford, Tiger says hi – Moobin.
I read the note twice, trying to figure out what he meant, if anything. There seemed to be something going on that didn’t sound brilliant, and a sense of urgency over our task.
‘He underlined “Every Effort” and capitalised it,’ said the Princess. ‘Do you think that’s an “all other considerations secondary” kind of deal?’