Authors: Madeleine L'engle

Troubling a Star (18 page)

BOOK: Troubling a Star

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For some reason I prickled. Greta's curiosity was perfectly normal. I said, neutrally, “Cook grew up in the Falklands. He knows everybody.”

“So how does it happen that you're traveling with Cookie?” Jack asked.

“He's a friend of the family.” That seemed the easiest explanation.

“Isn't he leaving the ship here?” Jack asked. “You'll miss him. But you'll have a shipful of other uncles.”

“Move up,” Quim said. “Move up. Fill up the front.”

Greta and Jack went all the way up front to sit with Jorge. Jack's cowboy clothes were visible again; on our Zodiac excursions they were covered by rubber pants and the red parka, though he usually wore his cowboy hat rather than his parka hood, and he was tall enough so he was easily spotted.

I found a seat somewhere in the middle of the launch, on a wooden bench, between Otto and Siri. I could not understand why Cook had not come to say goodbye, or how he was going to see me later. I looked at the dock as we pulled away, but Cook was not among the small group of people standing around.

“Quimby is such a dear,” I heard Siri saying. “Did you know there was a man called Phineas Quimby who was a pioneer in mental healing?”

“Really?” Otto quirked his brows. “I like that. Not many men with Quimby's job have that tolerant calm.” Then he turned to me. “Where's Cookie?”

I tried not to show how concerned I was. “He's staying here in Port Stanley, to visit with his brother.”

Siri said, “Remember, my cabin's just one door down the hall from yours, Vicky. If you need anything, I'm here.”

“Thanks, Siri.”

Angelique leaned over from the seat behind. “Me, too. And I speak for Dick.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Jorge beckoned to Otto, who moved to the front of the launch.

Siri yawned. “I don't know why I'm so sleepy. That was fun, this afternoon.”

“Delightful.” Angelique nodded, and then said to me, “Cookie said you're looking forward to seeing your boyfriend at LeNoir Station.”

Not my boyfriend. Not anymore. No matter what I'd thought.

I hoped my voice didn't sound brittle. “I'm not ready yet for a serious boyfriend. Too much school still ahead of me.”

Siri said, “I gather pressure's being put on Otto to look for a wife.”

Angelique said, “Not many princesses aboard the
Argosy
.”

Siri smiled. “Fairy-tale princes do marry princesses, don't they? I hope Otto will do better than the British royal family.”

She and Angelique chatted until the launch pulled up beside the
Argosy
.

I turned my red manifest number to the yellow side and went to my cabin. I took Adam's letters and cards, Adam II's letter, and the warning cards from school, and spread them out on the second bunk, adding the letter from Adam I'd been given at Government House. None of it added up. Something was definitely miching mallecho, and I had no idea what.

Where was Cook?

I put the letters and cards away and went out to the fo'c'sle. I felt too horrible even to cry. I listened as the anchor was pulled up. The ship's engines throbbed, and we began to pull away from Port Stanley. John's warning about Cook throbbed in my ears, echoing the rhythm of the engine.

I still couldn't quite believe that Cook had just gone off
and left me in Port Stanley, though it was no more strange than Adam's brusque letter, tossing me away as though we'd never meant anything to each other.

Several passengers came out with their cameras, and there was lots of general talk about how pleasant the afternoon in Port Stanley had been. I listened as Leilia described Papageno's penguin-feathered cape to one of the passengers who had not been in the first group. I turned and saw Angelique touch Dick's cheek in a gesture of tenderness. I noticed that Sam was standing not far from me, looking at me. I pretended not to see him.

Gradually, people began to leave the fo'c'sle. It was time for Wrap-Up, for people to gather together in the lounge for drinks.

“Coming, Vicky?” Sam asked.

“Sure,” I said. “In a few minutes.”

“I'll save you a seat. Shall I order you a ginger ale?”

“Please. Thanks.”

He left, looking back at me once, and went into the lounge. I stayed at the rail, staring at the grey expanse of water widening as we left Port Stanley. Then I saw something moving toward us. At first I thought it was one of the launches, coming back for some reason, because it was about the same size. But then I realized it was a different kind of boat, blue and shabby, with PORTIA painted on the side. Cook was standing on the foredeck, waving at me and calling, “Wait right there, Vicky.”

I nodded and the boat turned to go to the portside of the
Argosy
. I thought I saw Papageno at the wheel, and remembered that Cook had told me his brother had a seaworthy old boat.

After about five minutes, a side door opened and Cook came out. “Seth and I are taking off this evening, and I wanted to talk with you first. You had a chance to visit with him at the museum?”

“With lots of other people.”

“I know, Vicky. I'm sorry. This is not exactly turning out to be the quiet trip we'd planned.”

“Cookieâ” I drew in my breath, let it out. “You really wanted me to come with you on this trip?”

“Very much. But I think it's just as well I'm leaving you here.”

“Why?”

Cook looked out to sea. His head was covered with an old fur-lined cap with earflaps which were dangling. “Rumblings. Suspicions. It may be nothing. Seth is eyes and ears for the governor, going about in his little boat and seeing what other people don't hear and see.”

“Likeâ?”

“Unrest. It's all over the planet, there's no denying that. But there's something new afoot, we're not sure what.” Then he looked at me sharply. “Vicky, are you all right? Is something upsetting you?”

I was not,
not
going to tell him about Adam's letter. “While we were at Government House, SethâPapagenoâ”

Cook smiled. “He's usually called Papageno around here, but I've known him as Seth for too long to think of him as anything else. Go on.”

“He slipped me a message.”

“Do you have it?”

“Yes.” I pulled it out of my deepest parka pocket and handed it to him.

He studied it.

“Which Adam?” I asked.

Cook closed his eyes for a moment, than said, “He's referring to young Adam.”

“Adam III.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He's a smart but innocent kid, and he seems to have antagonized someone while he was in Vespugia, someone who is as irrationally upset and angry as a disturbed fur seal. Adam may have given Esteban, or perhaps Captain Nausinio, the idea that he knows more than he does.”

“Esteban called him
amigo
.” I did not add that Esteban called Adam
amigo
with a question. “And Cookie, what about me? What about someone at home not wanting me to come on this trip?”

Again he closed his eyes. I thought he was not going to answer me, but finally he said, “Perhaps I should have taken those messages you received at school more seriously. I took them to be some kind of prank.”

“And now?”

“I'm not sure. I still have no idea where they could have come from, or why. What happened in the past has no connection with you whatsoever.
I
am connected with the past. You are not.”

“What about Adam? Adam III?”

Cook shook his head.

I said, tentatively, “I wrote him about those messages I found in my locker. I don't know if he got my letter or not. Maybe I'm the one who's put Adam in danger?”

“No.” Cook's voice was firm. “I don't think either you or Adam is in any danger, but there are serious issues at stake, and I want you and Adam to stay out of them.”

I thought of the pyramid in Vespugia, but said only, “Cookie, you can't ignore the warnings.”

Cook sighed. “I have no idea what Adam's Shakespeare cards are about, and my hope is that this is a lot of sound and fury signifying nothing.” He laughed, ruefully. “Now I'm quoting Shakespeare. It seems to be catching. If you see Adam before Seth and I do, tell him to mind his
p
's and
q
's. Okay? And you do whatever Benjy tells you to do, all right?”

“All right.”

“Seth and I are going to do a little quiet investigating. He may play the fool, but he isn't one.”

“I know that.”

“I've got to go. Quim left the ladder up for me.” He took a deep breath. “Seth has a good radio on the
Portia
. He checks in with Rusty or the Coast Guard daily, and we'll keep in touch through the radio room on the
Argosy
. Benjy will be expecting my calls. Even if you don't hear from me for a while, you will be very much in my concerns.”

“Thank you. And you in mine.”

He pulled me to him in a quick hug. “Angels watch over
you.” Then he was gone, slipping like a shadow through the side door.

Benjy escorted me in to dinner, and through the wide windows I could see the
Portia
becoming no more than a shadow as it moved away from us. We sat with Siri and Sam, Angelique and Dick. Dick was definitely grouchy, and Angelique murmured that his leg was paining him. Dick growled and began talking about the movie we were going to see that night, about Admiral Scott's 1903 expedition.

When we finished eating, Benjy got a call to go up to the bridge. “You okay, Vicky?”

“Sure.”

“There's about an hour before the movieâ”

“I'm going down to my cabin. I'll see you up in the Womb Room.”

In the cabin I simply sat on my bunk, trying to think, and feeling instead numb, dumb, stupid. I looked at all my “exhibits” once more. Nothing. In the drawer where I kept my books was the paperback book of quotations Suzy had given me for my birthday, and I pulled it out and opened it to the Shakespeare section. The first quotation I glanced at was not encouraging. Rather, it made my heart sink.

Alas! 'tis true I have gone here and there,
And made myself a motley to the view,
Gor'd mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most
dearâ

I knew some people would do anything for money. People turned traitor for pieces of silver. But who? John's warnings again rang in my ears, and again I did not, would not believe them. Not Cook.

And not Adam. Certainly not Adam. Maybe he was dumping me for another girl, or just because I'd never really meant anything, but he wouldn't do anything dishonorable. Or cheap. He would not sell anything that was dear to his heart, not for any amount of money. And who would give money, and for what?

I put the letters and cards away again and headed up to the lounge to wait for the movie. As I went into the big room, I saw Sam and Otto and several others at a table near the door to the fo'c'sle, drinking after-dinner coffee or tea. I overheard something about Papageno, so I slipped in quietly and sat at a table in the corner by the bookshelves, where I was moderately inconspicuous.

Yes, I've been taught about eavesdropping, but I was quite visible if anybody had turned to look my way. They were talking about Papageno's encounter with the fur seal, and then Otto asked what had happened to Dick's leg.

Sam said, “It was shot to bits while he was a medic in one of those internecine African wars where the U.S. Army went in supposedly to bring food to the starving.”

“Supposedly?” someone asked.

Sam said, “Like Dick, I sometimes have a suspicious nature. I don't think everything we do is eleemosynary. Angelique says he nearly lost his leg, and it still gives him a lot of pain, which, as we saw tonight, he does not like to admit.”

“No wonder he tends to be pessimistic,” I heard Otto say sympathetically.

I started to move away from my corner, but then I heard “Cookie” and pricked up my ears again.

“ â¦ seems very thick with Rusty Leeds,” Otto was saying. “Cookie's a charming chap, but there's something secretive about him as well as charming.”

“Private,” Sam said. “Private, rather than secretive.”

“Rusty, too,” Otto said. “Stubborn as a mule.”

“One would have to be, in order to govern someplace like the Falklands.” It was Leilia's voice.

BOOK: Troubling a Star

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