by David Healey
It was with these thoughts in mind that Alexander went to find Professor Hobhouse. He was reading, of course, with a mug of coffee at hand. Hobhouse invited him into his cramped cabin, which was lined with books. He listened with interest to Alexander's assignment.
"You know, it's quite interesting that I've been reading Marcus Aurelius, who says, 'Nothing has such power to broaden the mind as the ability to investigate systematically and truly all that comes under observation in life.' "
Alexander suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Hobhouse had a knack for taking something simple and making it complicated, while Captain Bellingham tended to take something complicated and make it simple, sometimes overly so. Alexander felt stuck in the middle. "I think Marcus Aurelius was talking about the Roman senate, not what was stolen from Colonel Beauchamp's cabin."
"Are you very familiar with Marcus Aurelius? Such an interesting man. Imagine a Roman general who just so happens to be a philosopher in his spare time! Well, Marcus Aurelius also said—"
"I'm sure he did," Alexander quickly agreed. "But this isn't ancient Rome, Professor. This is a Royal Navy vessel. What am I supposed to do?"
"In any investigation, it is important to know what you are seeking."
"Colonel Beauchamp said that his gold signet ring was stolen." Alexander recalled seeing the heavy ring on the colonel's left hand. A signet ring typically featured a coat of arms or a state seal of some kind, and was pressed into the warm wax sealing an envelope it order to make the letter both official and private.
"I believe he let the whole ship know that with his shouting. The question is, was anything else stolen?"
"He only shouted about the ring."
"Well, it's a question to ask him, isn't it? Next, when you are conducting an investigation, it is best to know just who you are investigating."
Alexander sighed. The professor always had a way of exasperating him. "If I knew who took the ring, I wouldn't have to investigate, now would I!"
"Easy, Alexander. You're coming at the problem with every gun blazing—which is very much the Royal Navy method, by the way—when what you have to do is sail around it at bit and simply observe."
"I'm not sure I understand, professor."
"Well, you need to determine who had access to Colonel Beauchamp's cabin."
"Almost everyone was on deck or manning their guns, ready to fight the Napoleonist ship, including Colonel Beauchamp. Everyone was distracted, so the thief took advantage of the excitement to break into his cabin. The question is, what kind of person would do that?"
"Ah, now you're already getting somewhere in your investigation. You are wondering about human nature. Marcus Aurelius would approve. You are seeking to narrow down your search from a very large pool of potential thieves—everyone on this ship—to a much smaller group. Who can you rule out, and who can you rule in?"
"Well, it couldn't have been anyone on deck—I would have noticed them on the gangway, because I was using that myself during the battle. So that leaves everyone who was below—anyone on the gun deck."
"That's a rather large list," Professor Hobhouse said. "Who else?"
"The surgeon," Alexander said, racking his brain. "That's all I can think of."
"You're forgetting Miss Scarlett Beauchamp, her governess Mrs. Pomfrey, and me."
"You? I don't think so." Alexander narrowed his eyes. "Where were you, then?"
Professor Hobhouse looked innocently toward the ceiling. "I was in the surgery, ready to help with the wounded. You didn't think I was down here reading a book, do you?"
Alexander chose not to answer that question. "I suppose I have some investigating to do."
"You may not see it this way, Alexander, but Captain Bellingham has done you a favor. It's good practice, you know, to learn how people deceive and hide the truth."
"Good practice for what?"
"Why, for life, Alexander. Good luck. And take Mr. Higson with you—two pairs of eyes are better than one, and he makes a good sidekick."
• • •
The first person Alexander planned to interview was Colonel Beauchamp. He took Professor Hobhouse's advice and brought Roger along.
"I'm a bit concerned about the colonel," Roger admitted. "He might hit you with that cane he carries."
"Hit me? What about you?"
"I'm not the one who almost got his daughter stuck in the rigging."
The colonel met them in his cabin. He was standing, and being a large man, it made the cramped space that much smaller. He was elegantly dressed as usual, this time wearing a white suit. Because the colonel was only occupying the cabin for this voyage, the shelves were relatively bare, except for a couple of books. Alexander strained to read the titles: Foundations of Rhetoric for the English Language and The Code Duello for Young Gentlemen ... the professor was more than a man of words, after all; he was also a man of action. The bunk was neatly made, covered in a standard-issue wool blanket. A broad-brimmed white hat sat upon the bed—the sort of hat that was better suited for a Louisiana plantation than for an Atlantic voyage. In one corner was a large traveling trunk, which presumably held the colonel's other clothes and personal possessions. The air in the cabin smelled heavily of cigar smoke, boot polish and bay rum, which presumably the colonel splashed upon his face after shaving.
He also happened to be carrying the cane Roger was so worried about. The polished black stick had an elegant silver handle shaped like a boar's head. The colonel gripped it tightly, as if trying to control some passion within himself caused by the arrival of the two ensigns. The ring had not reappeared on his finger.
"You," he said, glaring down at Alexander. He was quite a tall man.
"Yes, sir, it's me. I'm afraid I've been appointed by Captain Bellingham to determine who took your ring."
"You're afraid of what, boy? Afraid of me or afraid of what you'll find out?"
"It was a figure of speech, sir, but now that you mention it I believe I'm afraid of a little of both."
"Then maybe you're not as stupid as you look, boy."
Alexander felt insulted, but he took a deep breath. "Mr. Higson and I would like to ask you a few questions, to help us get to the bottom of this matter."
"You English are a peculiar bunch," the colonel said. "Where I come from, you earn what you get called. I'm called Colonel Beauchamp because I've been a militia officer for twenty years, fighting Indians and pirates who make the mistake of coming ashore, looking for easy pickings. You boys get called mister when you are clearly boys. You've even got a lordship aboard this ship who ain't even old enough to shave, but you go about calling him ‘my lord’ or some such nonsense. And another thing, I thought the captain himself would investigate. Instead, he sent two boys."
"Mr. Higson and I are officers. Well, junior officers." Alexander stood a bit straighter. "Ensigns."
"Is that right? Well, the only thing I’ve seen you lead so far as an officer, boy, is a game up in the rigging. But I reckon I stand corrected. Now, Mister Hope, ask your question."
"Uh ... um ... " Alexander's mind had gone quite blank as a result of the colonel's speech.
Roger spoke up, rescuing him. "Did the thief break in, or was the door unlocked?"
"The door was locked," the colonel said. "But whoever it was must have picked the lock, because there wasn't any sign that they had pried the door open. I made a point of locking it, you see, because I had taken off my ring. It gets in the way in a fight when I'm using a sword or a pistol. I put it in my trunk right over there."
"Was anything else taken?"
"Well, just some papers."
"What were they?"
"Nothing important," the colonel said. "Just a few diplomatic letters. Some reports and so forth. In any case, if you find the ring, I reckon you'll find the papers."
"Very well," Alexander said. "Is there anything you want to add? For example, did you see anyone skulking about before the theft?"
"Nothing like that," the colonel said. "But
only a fool wouldn’t realize that the thief was just waiting for his chance. I want that ring back, boy. It's very important to me because it's a family heirloom. Looking at you, I ain't real hopeful that you're going to find it."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"That went better than expected," said Roger, back in the ensigns's berth. He and Alexander had been lucky enough to find a pot of coffee there with a cup or two in it that was still warm. Fowler wasn’t around, which made things even better. "The colonel didn't whack us with that cane, after all."
As usual, Roger wore one of his easy-going smiles that made him look a bit simple. It would be a wonder if he ever got promoted to lieutenant. As a general rule, officers in the Royal Navy tended to frown far more than they smiled. The thing about Roger was that he was always so happy—it took more than a grumpy American frontier fighter to get him down.
"If you say so," Alexander said.
His next interview subject was Scarlett Beauchamp. If it was possible, Alexander felt even more nervous about talking with the colonel's daughter. She was intimidating in her own way, for entirely different reasons, the chief one being that she was a girl.
Roger had to take his turn on watch, so Alexander went to interview her himself. They were not alone, however. When he knocked on the cabin door, he discovered that Mrs. Pomfrey was also there.
"You," she said, by way of greeting.
"Hello Mrs. Pomfrey," he said. Looking past her into the cabin, he could see Scarlett sitting in a chair, her wide dark eyes looking more like a doe's than a girl’s. Behind the formidable governess's back, she caught Alexander's eye and smiled. His head suddenly went empty, and he only managed to stammer his next words: "I'm here to ... what I mean to say ... an interview ..."
"I know why you are here, Mr. Hope," the governess said. "Colonel Beauchamp told me—I should say warned me—that you would be making inquiries into the theft from the colonel's cabin, which is next door, as you know."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You may come in, so long as you do not intend to stay too long. Miss Scarlett has her lessons, and you are interrupting, unless you plan on giving her further instruction on how to get stuck in the rigging."
Though all the cabins off the wardroom were small, this one was marginally larger. Mrs. Pomfrey and Scarlett Beauchamp were sharing the cabin. As a general rule, most cabins as sea smelled of damp wool and leather—an altogether manly smell—but a bit of perfume floated in the air of this cabin. It was just the way Scarlett had smelled, up close in the rigging. The scent made Alexander dizzy.
The cabin was big enough for two narrow beds on either side, with a tiny table and chairs in between. It was impossible, of course, to move about the cabin without bumping into the table and chairs. This would have been quite unacceptable in a house on land, but in a ship at sea having a private cabin of any size was nothing short of luxury. A book was open on the table.
"Gibbon," he said. "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire."
Mrs. Pomfrey reached out and snapped the heavy volume shut with a resounding thud. "I believe you have some questions for us, Mr. Hope?"
Alexander ignored her and turned to Scarlett. "I am sorry for letting you climb higher than you should have," he said. "I know your father wasn't very happy with you, and I apologize for that."
"Oh, never mind papa," she said. "I had such fun. If you play Stone Angels again, I do hope you'll let me know."
"We shall see about that, young lady," Mrs. Pomfrey said. "Now stop wasting our time, Mr. Hope, or we shall get back to our studies. What do you want to know?"
"Do you think Gibbon was right, that the Roman Empire crumbled because the Romans became too soft and hired mercenaries to fight their wars?"
"Really, Mr. Hope—"
"A nation should fight its own wars," Scarlett said. "If the people of a country get lazy and don't stand up for themselves, for what their nation was founded on, then they won't last long."
"How interesting," Alexander said. "I agree completely, Miss Scarlett."
She giggled. "Oh, just call me Scarlett. May I call you Alexander instead of Mr. Hope? I know you're an officer, but it sounds so fancy."
"Of course."
"Mr. Hope!" The governess glared at him.
"The questions. Right." He found that if he took his eyes off Scarlett it was easier to think. "Well. It seems clear that someone took advantage of the excitement during the fight with the Napoleonist ship to go into Colonel Beauchamp's cabin. He said the signet ring was there when he left to come up on deck, but it was gone when he returned after the skirmish."
"What a sight that was!" Scarlett said. "I've never seen anything like that. All those guns going off and battering that Napoleonist ship."
"You saw the fight?" Alexander was surprised.
"Mrs. Pomfrey let me go up on deck for a few minutes, just to see what all the excitement was about."
"By yourself?"
"It was a good thing I stayed here," Mrs. Pomfrey said. "The thief could have broken into our cabin as well. Miss Scarlett was under strict orders to take a peek by putting her head above the gangway, and then coming straight back. She was not to go on deck."
"Of course not. I wouldn't do that," Scarlett said, a bit too piously.
Alexander was immediately certain that she had done just the opposite, no matter what Mrs. Pomfrey said. He was surprised that he hadn't seen Scarlett, but if it had only been for a minute or two, he could have been on the quarterdeck or among the guns at the time.
"Did either one of you see or hear anything unusual in Colonel Beauchamp's cabin?"
"I wasn't away for more than a few minutes, and I didn't notice anything," Scarlett said. "The first clue I had was when papa started raging about his ring being stolen."
Alexander nodded. "And what about you, Mrs. Pomfrey? You saw nothing unusual?"
"No, I did not, other than those two other young officers. I thought it was a little unusual, because it seemed like they should be at their stations."
"What young officers?"
"Well, I peeked out my door, just to see if Miss Scarlett had returned. And that's when I saw the tall young man. I believe his name is Fowler? He was here in the wardroom, outside the colonel's door. I did not think anything of it at the time, but now I wonder."
Fowler? What had he been doing in the wardroom? He should have been on the gun deck, seeing to his gun crews. It made no sense to Alexander. "You said you saw two ensigns? Who was the other?"
"The Irish boy. I don't know his name. He seemed to be following Ensign Fowler. They definitely were not together."
Liam as well? What had he been up to? "You said this was during the battle?"
"Right around then. Maybe not at the exact time that the guns were being fired."
Alexander was stunned. It made no sense, none at all. Had Liam and Fowler left their posts to come to the wardroom—a place where they had no business being?
"Why, Alexander, you look like you could be knocked over with a feather," Scarlett said.
"Well, it wouldn't take a cannonball at the moment," he said. "Thank you both. This has been most helpful." With that, he made a kind of bow, and turned to go.
"Remember what I said about playing Stone Angels again!" Scarlett managed to say before Mrs. Pomfrey shut the cabin door firmly behind him.
• • •
Back in Professor Hobhouse's cabin, the professor listened calmly to what Alexander had to say. "It had to be Fowler!" Alexander fumed. "I wouldn't trust him with a brass button! He's obviously the thief."
"But Mrs. Pomfrey said she saw Liam outside the colonel's door as well."
"Liam is no thief!"
"And you're very sure that Fowler is one?" Professor Hobhouse shook his head. "You are allowing your feelings to cloud your judgment instead of using logic. Do you really think Fowler would risk his position in the Royal Navy to steal a ring?"
"A gold signet ring, Professor! Fowler would steal the stink off a dead fi
sh if he saw profit in it for himself."
"Honestly, Alexander, that ring is not worth a fortune—more than the stink off a dead fish, to be sure, but not enough for Fowler to jeopardize his future."
As much as he hated to admit it, Alexander knew deep down that the professor was right about Fowler. Infuriatingly, the professor was almost always correct when it came to logical matters. He would sit there, quietly sipping his coffee and stroking one of the ship's cats—the cats always had a way of finding their way into the professor's cabin, probably because he had a habit of feeding them scraps smuggled from the wardroom dining table—and explain why you were wrong about something. Or, more rarely, why you were right.
"Then I suppose I shouldn't bother questioning Fowler or Liam," Alexander said.
"On the contrary," Hobhouse said slowly. "Perhaps you should question them."
"Why in Ares’s armpit would I do that if I know they didn't steal the ring?"
Hobhouse made a sour face. "Please don't be vulgar, Alexander. It doesn't suit a gentleman and an ensign. But you should definitely question them. It's much like how beaters are used to flush out the game when someone is hunting. By questioning Fowler and Liam, it will make whoever stole the ring nervous because you are getting that much closer. Nervous people tend to make mistakes."
"It does make sense," Alexander agreed, then smiled. "And of course, there's another perfectly good reason. It will annoy Fowler to no end."
• • •
Before he could reach Fowler and Liam, however, he found himself being confronted by Colonel Beauchamp. The American was clearly puffed up and angry, like a bank of storm clouds running before the wind. "Boy, I've just learned from my daughter that you were questioning her. What do you think you're doing?"
"Colonel Beauchamp, sir, I am only trying to help find your stolen ring," Alexander said. "It was entirely possible that Scarlett or Mrs. Pomfrey heard something or saw something, considering that their cabin is next door to your own."
