by Joan Aiken
“Well I never! So you stayed with the Count?”
“I did, yes, till I grew up. He used to spend his winters in Europe, going to towns where there were casinos – gaming houses where they played with cards or dice – and he always won. His luck was amazing.”
“So he was rich?”
“Oh, very rich. He only had to bet on a number – or a horse – and it was sure to win. Every autumn we used to go to a town in Hanover called Bad Szomberg where there were hot springs, healing waters, and a grand gaming house. In one month there he would win enough money to keep us comfortably for a year.”
“Cor!”
“When he had made enough for his travels he would set off again, and then he sent me to school, and to college, and medical school, because I wanted to be a doctor. But I went on many of his trips as well.”
“Where is he now?” asked Mr Multiple.
“He is dead,” said the doctor sadly. “When we went to Szomberg last winter, he walked out by the waterfall late at night – there is a huge hot waterfall behind the casino – and he was found next morning, stabbed through the heart. They never found out who did it.”
“So his luck ran out,” said Dido thoughtfully.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. For the very next day I heard that the bank where he kept his winnings had crashed, and the money was gone.”
“Well I’ll be bothered! So what did you do then?”
“Oh, I can always earn my living as a doctor. I have finished my studies. Perhaps I will go to London later on.”
“Ah, London’s a fine town,” agreed Dido. “Ain’t it, Mr Mully? That’s where I come from, and shan’t I be glad to get back, jist! – So what in tarnation are you doing out here at the back of nowhere in the Kalpurnian Sea?”
Talisman said: “I thought that, before starting to work as a doctor, I’d come back to Aratu and see if I could find my real parents. There can’t have been so many children, twenty years ago, who fell off a cliff into the sea. Aratu is quite a small island.”
“That’s so. We reckon to find old Lord Herodsfoot easy enough. I guess your ma and pa ’ud be main pleased to know you ain’t drownded, but safe and well.”
She thought of her own story – shipwrecked off a Scottish island, picked up by a Nantucket whaler, carried across half the oceans of the world without any chance to inform her family that she was still alive – how astonished they would be when she finally arrived home! But pleased? Dido shrugged and turned her attention to the doctor, who was going on:
“One reason why I was so keen to visit Aratu was that my adopted father the Count made a friend on some of our gambling visits to Bad Szomberg – a man who came from Aratu. This man used to tell me about the place, and taught me a bit of the language. His stories made me curious to come back. It’s a strange place. Angrians still live in the town – the people who came from Europe so long ago. They are very stern and gloomy. Women aren’t allowed in the streets of Regina – not until their hair is white. Not unless their faces are veiled or wrapped in leaves.”
“Great fish! Why ever not?”
“I am not sure. There is a king – called King John.”
“Did this man – your friend – what was his name?”
“Roy – Manoel Roy.”
“Did he know who your parents might be?”
Mr Multiple put this question. He had sat silent through most of Doctor Talisman’s story, watching and listening with great attention.
“No, he said he had never heard of a small child being lost in such a way. But he has been away from Aratu many times. Like my foster father, he loved to gamble. But he did not enjoy such good luck as the Count. He mostly lost.” Doctor Talisman glanced along the deck and said, “Here comes Captain Sanderson. I must remind him to take his quinine.”
The doctor, who had been sitting cross-legged, rose in one swift, smooth movement and strolled to meet the Captain; picking a casual, easy path among all the coils of rope and belaying-pins, canvas buckets, fishing nets, and pots of tar and other obstacles that littered the deck.
“Dido,” said Mr Multiple in a low voice when the doctor was out of earshot, “did it ever strike you that there’s something rum about the doc?”
“Rum?” said Dido. “Why yes. If you mean what I think—”
Her words were interrupted by a sudden yell of warning from the rigging. One of the men was aloft just above them on the yardarm trimming the sail – and at this moment he dropped something that winked in the sun as it fell, then landed with a crack exactly on the crown of Multiple’s head. His skull was protected, to some extent, by his hat, but even so the blow could be clearly heard, and Multiple toppled as if he had been shot, and lay motionless on the deck.
“Murder!” exclaimed Dido. “Doc Talisman! Come quick! Mr Mully’s copped a fourpenny one – he’s out cold. Quick, come and help him!”
The doctor came running back, with Captain Sanderson close behind. The sailor who had been up above in the rigging now scrambled down, blubbering out words of apology.
“Misery, misery me! a hundred thousand sorrows! That such a mishap should mishappen!”
“Oh, be quiet, you silly lubberkin!” snapped Captain Sanderson. “What good does that do, yelling out woe, woe? What was that thing ye dropped on the poor lad?”
“Was my wedhoe.”
The sailor began searching distractedly round the deck, finally found what he was looking for and pounced on it with a cry of relief and joy. “Aha! my wedhoe!”
“What is that thing? Let’s see it?” said the doctor, who had been cautiously investigating the wound on Mr Multiple’s head. “Saints save us, that’s heavy! What is it made of, copper?”
“How would I tell?” said the sailor, a tiny wizened man named Pepe. “It is my wedhoe. Keep me safe from harm.”
“Didn’t keep poor Mr Multiple safe from harm,” snapped the doctor, frowning over the trickle of blood that ran from the unconscious lieutenant’s injured head. “Captain Sanderson, this wound is serious. The man’s skull may be cracked. His brain may be injured. He needs urgent medical attention – more than I can provide, here on this ship. Or he may very well die.”
“Och, mercy on us! Ye don’t say so?”
“But I do say so. There may be damage to the brain. Is there a hospital on Aratu?”
“Ay,” said the Captain doubtfully. “There is one. But I wouldna be guessing that the level of medical skill is inco high in that place – ‘tis only a wee island after all. Should we not put back to Amboina?”
“Five days’ sailing? No, the boy could die before we got there. There may be internal bleeding also.”
“Och, havers!” said the Captain disgustedly. “And he was faring up to be a right decent sensible young fellow. What in the world will I ever tell Captain Hughes when we get back to Amboina? Ye think he can be saved?”
“With luck.”
Luck, thought Dido sadly, looking after her friend as, under Doctor Talisman’s orders, two sailors carried Multiple off to his hammock. I reckon you’re the best chance of that for him, Doctor Lucky Talisman.
“What time do we get to Aratu, Cap?” she asked Sanderson.
“Around dawn, Miss Twite. I have given orders to cram on all sail, as the winds are light.”
Dido slept badly that night, curled up against a coil of rope on the foredeck. Her dreams were full of outsize pearl-snakes and sting-monkeys; also the same dream, over and over, of searching for her friend Mr Multiple in a house that belonged to her but had been occupied by other people, cruel people; the house was in a distant corner of some city, and the streets were dark and silent, and she had lost the front door key; and then when she did get into the house she knew that it was full of enemies, though she could not see them or hear them; she tiptoed up the narrow crooked stairs to the room where Mr Multiple might be sleeping, but he was not there, and she did not dare call his name aloud for fear the wrong people might hear and come after her . . .
From th
is horrible dream it was a relief to wake up, sweating and shivering, to see the sea, like a black mother-of-pearl floor ahead of the ship, a belt of luminous green light on the port horizon where the sun would presently shoot up, dark blue outlines of islands all around, and one in particular, straight ahead, shaped like the head of a thistle, solid-packed with trees. Even at this distance the sound of singing and drums could be heard. And a scent, almost solid in the air, of pepper, clove, and nutmeg came wafting on the warm wind.
“Aratu,” said Dr Talisman, nodding at the silhouette.
“Aren’t you excited to be going back there, Doc? Must be right spooky if you haven’t been to the island since you was five years old! Will this chap you know be there, d’you reckon?”
“Manoel Roy? I suppose he might be – if he is not playing dice at some casino in Europe.”
Now the island seemed to leap forward at them as the dawn wind caught the sails and the sun came dazzling out of the ocean’s eastern rim. White wedges of sea broke snarling against two black claws of promontory on either side of the ship, slashing waves rolled out of the dark to cream up against slate-coloured rocks. A lighthouse slipped past them. The sound of drums grew louder and louder.
“It looks like kind of an unchancy place,” Dido said, shivering. “Where’s the town?”
“Straight ahead – at the far end of the harbour. There are no beaches. The island is all rock, rising straight out of the water.”
What had been a pale speck at the waterline now resolved itself into houses like tiny white dice climbing above each other up a steep hill with some feathery vegetation among them; as the Siwara drew closer little black figures could be seen, darting to and fro on the dockside.
“The houses ain’t really white, though, they’re blue,” said Dido, puzzled, as the ship slid near and nearer to the quay. “Blue and shiny. How’s that, Doc?”
“Oh, now I remember. I remember so well! That was because of the Angrian settlers who came and lived on the island for several hundred years. They like their houses covered with blue-and-white tiles.”
“Why?”
“Because they look handsome, I suppose. And tiles keep out the rain.”
“The town ain’t very big, is it? Lucky there’s a hospital. Did your friend Manoel tell you about that?”
“Yes, he did, when he heard that I was training to be a doctor. He tried to persuade me to come back to Aratu and be a doctor there, because most of the medicine is done by witches called kanikke. The Dilendi women are witches, and the men are guides, he said.”
“Guides?”
“Halmahi people. They sing the history of the island every day. And look after the sacred stones. There was a drunken old Angrian doctor called O Medico, Manoel said, but he wasn’t much use.”
“What a lot you know about the place,” said Dido, impressed. “What about those witches, though?”
“Old shawl ladies. They have a lot of power. They make the rules. I expect the hospital is run by old shawl ladies.”
“Blimey,” said Dido, “I jist hope they take good care of Mr Mully. I wouldn’t fancy being looked after by a pack of witches. I can see why your pal thought it would be a good thing for the island if you came back and set up as a doctor here. So the witches wouldn’t be able to boss everybody.”
“I suppose that might have been his plan,” said Doctor Talisman thoughtfully. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“And what was the thing that the sailor Pepe dropped on poor Mully’s head?”
“His wedhoe. It’s a luck charm. All the Angrian men on the island have them.”
“Why, do they need luck more than women do?”
“Oh, the women have their own luck charms, but they wear them round their necks on a grass string.”
“Like yours, on your silver chain?”
“Oh, no, mine is quite different.” The doctor stroked a fine medallion, like a fivepenny piece, on a thin chain. “It has my family name on it, so – if my parents are still alive – it should be possible to find them.”
“What is the name?”
“Kirlingshaw.”
“Why,” said Dido, astonished, “I had an Aunt Tinty Kirlingshaw. Tough old gal she was. Came from the Fen country.”
“Hi, hi, ho!” shouted a sailor in the bow, and sent a coil of rope whistling across the narrowing gap of water on to the dock, where a man was waiting to receive it.
They had reached Regina, the port of Aratu.
Chapter Two
THE THROB OF DRUMS, WHICH HAD GROWN louder and louder as the Siwara edged her way up the long, narrow harbour, ceased abruptly the moment the first hawser was thrown ashore and made fast. Dido leaned over the rail and watched as small dark men in black cotton trousers darted about, attaching more cables to bollards on the quay, and hanging thick rope fenders between the ship and the dock wall. A taller man, white-haired and wearing elegant black silk clothes, stood with his hands in his pockets, apparently overseeing the operation.
“Why, there he is! My friend – my father’s friend!” said Doctor Talisman, leaning eagerly over the rail. And, catching a pause between the shouts of the dock-workers, the doctor called out: “Manoel, Manoel! Ohé, Manoel!”
Looking up at the ship and her passengers, the white-haired man made a formal bow, and raised his hand in a ceremonial gesture of recognition and greeting.
“He doesn’t seem at all surprised to see me,” Doctor Talisman said, sounding a little quenched.
Indeed the man on the dock looked quizzical, as if his opponent in a game had made a move that amused him.
“Maybe he got a message on another ship from Amboina, and knew you was coming,” Dido suggested. “How long was you there?”
“About ten days. I took passage on the first ship that sailed this way.”
Now a companion-ladder was lowered, and the white-haired man came briskly up it and saluted the doctor with another low bow.
“My dear Doctor Talisman! (I assume that you are now a doctor?) Welcome back to your birthplace!”
“Manoel! Let me make you known to Captain Sanderson – Senhor Manoel Roy.”
“The brave Captain Sanderson of the good ship Siwara, I know already.” Another bow.
“And here is Dido Twite, who has come to Aratu looking for Lord Herodsfoot.” Senhor Manoel Roy seemed a little astonished at this news. He took careful stock of Dido, who, as usual, wore long, wide trousers of dark blue duffel, a close-fitting pea-jacket with brass buttons, and a white shirt with a sailor collar. She was tanned as brown as a kipper, and her hair, much the same colour, had been cut close round her head by one of the sailors, for coolness and comfort.
Manoel asked: “May I inquire why you seek his lordship, my young sir?”
“It ain’t me that wants him, mister, it’s King Jamie, back in London town; and a tarnal long time we’ve been arter his lordship; all the way from Easter Island,” Dido explained. “Is he here? On Aratu?”
“I have not met him myself, but I understand that, yes, he is – you will be happy to hear! Somewhere out in the forest, in the middle of the island. We shall have him sought for you directly.”
“Thanks, mister!”
Captain Sanderson said, “We have another wee bit problem for ye, sir: a laddie, a naval officer, Miss Twite’s companion, suffered a sore dunt on the heid yesterday, and now lies stupefied; and young Doctor Talisman here is of the opeenion that he is done for, unless the medical folks in your hospital here on Aratu can mend the wound in his skull. Can ye be of asseestance to us in this matter?”
“Oh, my dear sir! What an unfortunate misfortune! For the most grievous part of it is that our beloved and revered island doctor, affectionately known by all the citizens of Regina, died himself, only last week, of snakebite, and as of now we have no replacement for him!”
“Hech, noo, that is serious! What’ll we do? The puir laddie is in a mortal bad way – isn’t that so, Doctor?”
The Doctor agreed emphatically. “Y
es, indeed it is. I just checked his pulse and breathing. Both are falling steadily and are now very low. I fear he will not live more than another five or six hours.”
“Oh, poor Mr Multiple,” Dido said sadly. “Can’t you do something for him, Doc Talisman?”
Manoel Roy said: “I myself was about to suggest that very thing. Here in the town of Regina we can offer a fine hospital, and a group of nurses who know their business to a nicety, are skilled in the arts and duties of healing. All we lack is a surgeon. If you, Doctor Talisman, were prepared to undertake the task—?”
Doctor Talisman turned pale, swallowed, and said, “Well – if that is the poor boy’s only hope – I suppose I can hardly refuse. I can only offer to try and do my best – I did study brain surgery in Vienna for six months – I have a basic knowledge – but will the people in the hospital allow a total stranger to come in and do this?”
“If I introduce you, yes, I am sure of it,” Manoel said confidently. “I hold the position of Mayor and Harbourmaster and head of the Civil Guard in Regina town. Furthermore I am the Sovereign’s brother. It is true that he – but never mind that. And – dear Doctor Talisman – you are not a complete stranger to us, after all. You were born in this land. When they hear your history, I am certain they will be glad to welcome you.”
Doctor Talisman seemed doubtful still, but said, “Well, there is really no time to be lost, if we are to try and save him. May we have some men to carry him to the hospital?”
“I will arrange for that at once.” Manoel retreated down the ladder, and Captain Sanderson hurried away down the deck, looking harassed, muttering something about stores and cargo. Doctor Talisman turned to Dido and said: “Dido Twite: since it does riot sound as if your Lord Herodsfoot will be found within the next few hours, if he is away in the forest – will you be so kind as to come with me to the hospital and assist me there – should that prove needful?”
“You mean,” said Dido gulping, “with poor Mr Mully’s operation?”
“Yes. That is what I mean. For all we know, the staff in the hospital may be old witches, with their heads wrapped in cobwebs and tools made out of sharks’ teeth or bamboo splinters. Luckily I have my own surgical implements with me, so that is no problem.”
