There wasn’t anything seriously wrong with Sticky, though. The truth, which Sticky didn’t quite understand, was that pride was a new feeling for him — something he’d rarely experienced before last year’s mission — and it was simply taking some getting used to.
“Look who’s awake,” said Reynie, who had noticed Constance blinking her eyes and looking around with a disturbed expression. “It’s okay, Constance. You dozed —”
“Someone’s coming!” Constance hissed. Her tone was so unnerving that Reynie and Sticky sat bolt upright, and Kate sprang up into a defensive crouch.
“Easy, Constance,” Reynie said, his heart racing. “You must have been dreaming. You’re safe here with —”
A knock sounded at the door. They all froze.
“Hello?” a man’s voice called. It was Captain Noland.
Kate looked wonderingly at Constance. “How did you . . . ? Never mind, we’ll talk about it later.” She opened the door.
Captain Noland stood in the passage holding a small chest. His face was drawn with fatigue, but he gave the children a friendly smile as he came in. “Well, my friends, I regret the circumstances — I’d hoped to entertain you in my own cabin — but regardless, I’m pleased to join you at last. How are you enjoying the Shortcut? She’s a mighty fast ship, isn’t she?”
As the children responded with polite enthusiasm, the captain knelt to open the chest. It was tidily packed with a miniature folding table, a serving tray, a coffee pot and coffee cups, a bottle of cream, and two tins of sweets. Captain Noland set up the table and laid out the treats, and Reynie and Sticky climbed down from their top bunks, taking care not to upset the little table, for there was scarcely room on the floor now to step. Indeed, when all four children were seated on the two lower bunks, their knees pressed against the table’s edge, and their feet were awkwardly intermingled below. Keeping his elbows close to his side, Captain Noland smiled apologetically and handed each of them a cup. “So long as no one moves very much, I believe we’ll be fine. Ever had navy coffee?”
“What is it?” asked Kate, eyeing the pitch-black liquid in the pot with suspicion.
“It’s brewed with a pinch of salt in the grounds,” Sticky answered. “The salt’s supposed to cut the bitterness.”
“So you’re familiar with it!” said Captain Noland with an approving look at Sticky. With careful movements he filled the cups, including one for himself. “Don’t worry, Kate, you can’t actually taste the salt. Just good, strong coffee.” The children took turns stirring cream into their cups, and the captain leaned against the cabin door and waited politely. When at last they were ready, he toasted their health — as if they were drinking champagne rather than coffee — then closed his eyes and took a long, slow sip, obviously savoring it.
Reynie drank from his own cup and almost choked. It was hard to say whether the coffee tasted more like gasoline or cough syrup. Luckily Captain Noland still had his eyes closed and didn’t see Reynie grimace as he forced the foul stuff down. He shot a warning look at the others (it was too late for Kate, who was trying to twist her horrified expression into something that resembled a smile) and in a slightly strangled voice said, “So you were in the navy, Captain?”
“The navy’s where I met Nicholas Benedict, in fact,” said Captain Noland. “He and I — why, what’s the matter?”
Captain Noland had opened his eyes to discover the children staring at him uncomfortably. They had agreed they must tell him the truth or risk getting nowhere, but now that the time had come, they were anxious. What if he decided to send them back home on the first plane from Lisbon? Or what if he wanted to help them but couldn’t? What if there were no more clues to be had?
“We need to speak with you about Mr. Benedict,” Reynie said after a pause. “He’s —”
Just then, the cabin seemed to lurch. The children nearly fell from their seats, and the coffee pot and serving tray slid across the table. Captain Noland leaped forward and caught them. The cabin righted itself just as quickly as it had gone askew.
“We’re heading into some rough seas, I’m afraid,” said Captain Noland, as if the children could possibly have failed to notice. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing very serious, and it won’t last the night. By morning we’ll . . . Wait, what were you going to tell me about Nicholas?”
It took a few minutes for the children to explain, and by the time they had finished Captain Noland was sitting on the little chest, his chin in his hands, looking quite stricken. “I can’t believe it. He called me from Lisbon only last week. He said he and Number Two were having a fine trip.”
“They’re in Lisbon, then?” Reynie asked hopefully.
“They were,” said Captain Noland. “They were leaving that afternoon. He called to make sure everything was properly arranged. You see, I’d invited Nicholas to be a guest on this maiden voyage months ago, and he asked if I would bring you children as guests instead. I was happy to do so. In fact, I was to play a role in the surprise he planned for you.”
“How so?” Kate asked.
“By presenting you with a sealed envelope he sent me several weeks ago. He said he intended to make certain arrangements, and if he succeeded, I was to give you the envelope when we reached port. When he called from Lisbon, he confirmed I should deliver it, along with some official paperwork to ease your passage between countries.”
“Do you have the envelope with you?” Reynie asked.
“In my cabin,” said Captain Noland. “When we’ve finished here I’ll get it, and we can open it together. I know you meant to do this alone — and I admire your courage — but for your own safety I can’t allow it. I won’t send you back, but I am going to help you.”
“It isn’t that we don’t want help,” Reynie said, “and we certainly wouldn’t mind some protection. But Mr. Curtain is suspicious and extremely smart. His henchmen — the Ten Men — they’ll be on the lookout for any kind of rescue attempt, and —”
“I understand you,” Captain Noland said. “We mustn’t involve the authorities, must operate in secret as much as possible. That’s all right, Reynie. I’ll do whatever’s necessary. You probably don’t know this, but I owe Nicholas my life. So tell me again, what exactly —”
He was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Captain, are you in there?”
“I asked not to be disturbed!” Captain Noland called.
“You said except in case of emergency, sir,” said Cannonball, poking his head in. “Which it is.”
Captain Noland quickly stood up. “What’s happened, Joe?”
The young sailor closed the door, and standing with his back against it (there being no place else to stand) said, “Well, sir, you know how Mr. Pressius was going on to the other . . . um, the other owners about his scads of diamonds? About how the jewels themselves are worth more than the Shortcut and all her crew?”
“I seem to remember that,” the captain said dryly.
“Well, after you excused yourself, Mr. Pressius told Mr. Thomas about the . . .” Cannonball hesitated, glancing at the children.
“Speak freely, Joe.”
“Aye, sir. He told Mr. Thomas about the fakes.”
“Mr. Pressius has brought along a chest of plastic diamonds,” Captain Noland explained to the children, “which he seems to think may serve as decoys in the event of a robbery. I believe he took the idea from a movie.” The captain kept his face impassive, but the children got the distinct impression that he found Mr. Pressius perfectly ridiculous. “Now, Joe, tell me what happened.”
“Aye, Captain. Well, Mr. Pressius said the fakes were so good — the best cheap fakes ever made, he said — that he bet Mr. Thomas couldn’t tell the difference. Of course Mr. Thomas didn’t like that, as he figures himself an expert on everything —”