R. LaFevers - Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos

I couldn’t stand it a moment longer. I had to get out of there or I would go stark raving mad. Not only that, but I was desperate to find the lavatory!

I waited until dark, when it was cold and everyone had gone in to dinner. Then I crawled out and hobbled around, frantically looking for a lav. (Oh, the relief!) After I took care of my business, I allowed myself a brisk stroll around the deck to work out the kinks in my legs.

Just as I began to crawl back into my lifeboat, clinging to the rigging like a young monkey, I heard a voice say, “Hullo.”

I nearly fainted.

I stopped climbing and turned toward the sound of the voice. “Hullo,” I answered back. Croaked, really, as my voice was rusty with salt and disuse. A man stood there, dressed in his dinner jacket and sipping something elegant-looking in an odd-shaped glass. He turned to look out over the ocean, shook his head, then turned to look at me again.

“I say,” he said, peering at me rather closely. “Are you my pink elephant?”

I dropped down to the deck. Pink elephant? What kind of nonsense is that? I would have been horribly insulted except he seemed rather fond of pink elephants.

He decided to walk with me while I stretched my legs. We spent a few minutes chatting about the weather (cold gray drizzle) and where he was headed (crocodile hunting on the Nile) and what our favorite refreshment was (his — gin and tonic, mine — lemon tarts.) He didn’t ask me what I was doing there or if I was a stowaway or anything like that. And he promised to bring me a bit of dessert tomorrow when he came out for his evening walk.

Now that’s the kind of grownup I like!

It was much easier to sleep once I’d taken some exercise. I dreamed of what kind of dessert Mr. Wappingthorne (that was his name) would bring me tomorrow.

The next day, Mr. Wappingthorne brought me two buttered rolls that were still warm and a small raspberry tart from the dessert tray. He also snuck me a small pot of tea — such luxury! I savored the tea, letting its warmth fill me up. I was half-tempted to use part of it to bathe with. Did you know sea air makes one all salty and sticky? I have a dreadful layer of salt clinging to my face and hands.

Only two more days until we pass the halfway mark. Then, when it is too late to turn back, I will announce my presence to my parents.

THAT NIGHT, when Mr. Wappingthorne came for a visit, he brought his fiancée, a Miss Pennington. He wanted to prove to her that I was real.

Then the fat really began to fry, let me tell you. “Why, she’s a stowaway!” Miss Pennington said with a sly look, which was very unnerving. I’d hoped all would be well, since Mr. Wappingthorne got her calmed down and swore her to secrecy. Even so, I didn’t relax until they left for the evening. Breathing a sigh of relief, I made myself as comfortable as I could in my little nest. Just as I began to get warm again, I heard a footstep on the deck.

Had Mr. Wappingthorne returned? Or the annoying Miss Pennington?

I heard another creak, and then my lifeboat swayed. Someone was climbing up!

Before I could even think what to do, the canvas cover was ripped off the lifeboat and I found myself blinking into the glow of an oil lamp.

“Well, well, what have we here?” a very pompous voice asked.

Bother. The gig was up. Father was going to be furious.

I clambered out of the lifeboat (quite awkward, really, with people watching you). As soon as my feet touched the deck, an ensign, or something — I wasn’t sure what his title was but he had a few fancy things dangling about his shoulders and a terse look on his face — stood over me, glowering.

He started to grab me by the ear, until Mr. Wappingthorne called out, “Now see here, that’s not really necessary, is it?”

The man grabbed my elbow instead, which I much preferred to my ear, and, holding it at a high, painful angle, he began marching me forward.

To the dining room.

“Shouldn’t we wait for your captain in his quarters or on the bridge?” I suggested. “He won’t want to interrupt his dinner for this, I’m sure.”

The fellow glanced down at me. “He’ll want to talk to you right away. Don’t think we’re going to hide your sins for you. Ship’s policy.”

Saw right through that, he did.

My stomach grew queasy at the thought of being discovered so publicly. “You’re hurting my arm, could you please not twist it so?” I asked.

He looked down at me, threw open a door, and thrust me into the salon, nearly wrenching my arm out of its socket.

All conversation dribbled to a stop as I stumbled into the room. Everyone had finished their dinner and they were enjoying after-dinner drinks and quiet conversation. I wanted to cringe and hide behind this beastly ensign, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I stood tall and proud, as if I were a Luxury First Class passenger and not a grubby little stowaway. (If Grandmother Throckmorton could ever have got her mind past the stowaway part, she would have been very proud of me.)

The fellow marched me straight up to the captain.

“Look what I found, Captain, lurking about in one of the lifeboats. A stowaway.”

The captain turned from his conversation and stared at the ensign before turning his attention to me. He had a face that looked like a leather map, all lines and valleys and ravines across his deeply tanned skin. His iron gray mustaches matched his hair and put me in mind of a walrus.

My arm was screaming in agony from its unnatural position, making my eyes water. I was keeping my eyes open as wide as possible so it wouldn’t look like I was crying, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it up.

“May I please have my arm back, now, sir? I’m really not going to run away. I give you my word.”

“The word of a thieving stowaway!” the ensign said. “And how much would that be worth? About the same as you paid for your ticket, I would imagine.”

“May I have permission to speak, sir?” I addressed the captain directly, and the formality took him by surprise.

He blinked. “Yes.”

“First of all, I have paid for my ticket. I put the funds in an envelope and if you send someone back to the lifeboat, you will see that it is all there.” (My life savings, as it were.)

One of the captain’s eyebrows quirked up. “Indeed.” He nodded once at the ensign, who released my arm and took off in search of the envelope.

“Why didn’t you just pay for your ticket first, like most passengers?” the captain asked.

That’s when I heard the familiar bellow “Theodosia Elizabeth Throckmorton!” This was quickly followed by a muttered “Bloody hell.”

Bother. I wrinkled my nose. “Well, that’s why, sir,” I said, nodding my head at my parents, who were hurrying over to us. “My parents didn’t want me to come, but I had to. Really.”

Mother reached me first. She clamped her hands on my shoulders. “Theodosia darling, are you all right?” She knelt down so she could see my face.

“Yes, Mother. I’m perfectly fine. Just a bit dirty, is all. And hungry,” I added, just in case they hadn’t cleared all the dinner dishes away. I risked a glance up at Father, who was glaring down at me.

“Really, Theodosia, you have gone too far this time.” He turned to Mother. “I warned you something was not right when we found those things of hers in your trunk.”

For being such an absent-minded sort, Father can certainly be perceptive when he wants to be.