The Isle of Devils

by Craig Janacek

  “I recognize the word ‘stars’ again, Signore, but I freely admit ignorance of the rest.”

  “It is from the Paradiso, Dottore. At the very end, Dante was instructing us how to live, weaving a pattern from the lessons of his own life. I hope that someday you will understand what he meant. If I were to translate the words into your harsh English tongue, it might go something like this: ‘But now was turning my desire and will, even as a wheel that equally is moved, for we have shared the love that moves the sun and the other stars.’”

  I stared at him intently, wondering what he knew of my feelings for Lucy. But there were no answers in the dark depths of his eyes. “Thank you, Signore, I will consider what you have said.”

  The next man was none other than Lucy’s mythical husband, now revealed as the Belgian Monsieur Dubois, who grinned and nodded at me. He took my hand and held onto it tightly, looking me in the eyes. “You know, Doctor, when a good man dies, those that care deeply for him will sometimes take up his cares and responsibilities?”

  I nodded slowly, unsure of what he meant. “I have heard of such things.”

  “Then rest assured that Iain’s daughter is well cared for by eight fathers and two mothers. And yet, all we really desire is that she finally finds happiness after so many years of misery. If she were to meet a man who could accomplish that, a man with a great nobility of spirit, however humble his situation, he would have our blessing.”

  I nodded, unable to answer him through the tightness in my throat. He pulled me into a half-embrace. Finally, I stepped back and he let go of my hand.

  I moved on to what appeared to be the last guest, Mr. Sims. The gigantic man smiled and nodded down at me. He stretched out his hand for me to shake. “It has been a pleasure knowing you, Doctor. Mayhaps we will meet in a scrum someday, once our respective injuries have fully healed?”

  I absently rubbed my left shoulder and shook my head dejectedly. “I am not certain that will ever happen, Mr. Sims.”

  “I am sorry to hear that, Doctor, for I am certain that you would have been a worthy opponent. And furthermore, if that is truly the case, the English Army has lost a fine soldier. I would have been honored to serve under you.”

  I shook my head again. “I was only a regimental medical officer, Mr. Sims. I never commanded men in the line of fire.”

  “Their loss, Doctor. As you have certainly learned by now, not all officers are worthy of the command entrusted to them. And some, despite their apparent lack of command, are born to be true leaders of men.” He stiffened and saluted me.

  I silently returned his salute, and then turned to the door. I found that I had indeed reached the end of the guests. I looked about for a final time, but the one person that I had devoutly wished to see was not present in the room, and it became increasingly clear to me that she was not going to make an appearance. This realization caused my heart to sink to the point where I almost lost control in front of this indomitable group of former soldiers, and it took all of my strength to walk out the door with my head high and my face dry.

  §

  When I stepped foot out of the hotel into the blazing sunlight I found Henry awaiting me in Mr. Robinson’s one-horse trap. He leapt down to silently shake my hand and help me load my valise. We then both alighted and Robinson lightly flicked the horses to spur them into action.

  “That was a strange business you found yourself mixed up in, brother,” said Henry finally.

  “Indeed,” was all that I could muster.

  Henry glanced over at me, as if to determine the etiology of my clipped comments. “You seem down, brother, which I can certainly appreciate. Others have reported similar emotions when they have finally been required to depart the salubrious climate of Bermuda. And it is never easy to leave loved ones, even those as poor as me!”

  His efforts managed to elicit from me a half-smile. “Yes, I think that must be it.”

  Henry appeared to contemplate things for a minute before he continued. “You know, brother, there is another being as forlorn as yourself at your departure. Not I, of course, for we will see each other again! But Gladstone, our bull-pup, now whines that you are not around. What did you do to prompt such loyalty?” He shook his head in wonderment. “Once you establish yourself in London, presuming your situation allows it, I think I will have to send him to you.”

  “I would very much like that, brother,” I replied simply.

  We lapsed into silence and the trap clipped along, passing on our right the garden where I first spoke with Lucy. As we travelled back along the same route over the hill and down to Fort St. Catherine that I had taken upon my initial arrival to St. George’s, I felt as if the clock was winding backwards. Every yard that we covered seemed to erase another moment of the last few days, and it seemed as if by the time I reached Dockyard, the remarkable happenstances of the Globe Hotel would be nothing more than passing will-o-the-wisps of my imagination. It was not a pleasant sensation.

  When we arrived at the pier below the Fort’s mighty ramparts we found the same small sloop, the Caliber, awaiting us. Henry helped me with my valise and we tumbled into the boat.

  “We are travelling straight to Dockyard, correct, Captain Smith? No detours to Hamilton this time, I trust?” Henry called to the skipper.

  “Right you are, sir, and Bob’s your uncle,” replied the man through teeth clenching his brier-root pipe.

  Henry turned to me. “I have secured you a berth on another troopship, brother, very similar to the Malabar. It is called the Orontes, after the river near Antioch.”

  “Thank you, Henry, I am certain that it will be more than adequate.”

  The conversation again flagged and I was free to look out at the passing shores of the island, the wind whipping through my hair. As we progressed along the northern shore back to the far western tip of the isle, my eyes were continually drawn back to the east, where I knew that St. George’s lay beyond my gaze over the hill. A poet once claimed that when he left a certain joyful place, his heart remained behind. I had never understood the truth of those profound words until now.

  Several times Henry leaned over as if he were about to hazard a remark, but each time he drew back and left me to my silent musings. Eventually, as I knew it must, the journey came to its end on the same rough pier from which we had first innocently cast off towards St. George’s six days prior.

  I clambered out of the boat as well as my leg would allow, and I stood by while Henry instructed Captain Smith to await his return.

  Once the man cast off, Henry turned to me with a considering look in his eyes. “You’ve changed, Ham,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” said I, frowning.

  “The boy I once knew is gone, I think, only to be replaced by the man that I see before me.”

  “War will do that.”

  He shook his head. “No, it is more than that. Even in this short time I’ve watched you become more thoughtful and introspective.”

  I frowned. “Are you saying that I’ve become aloof?”

  “Not at all. Call it a gift, a grand gift. I think that you have gained experience, the knowledge of which will ensure your reputation of being excellent company for the remainder of your existence.”

  I nodded ruefully. “I suppose that the circumstances of my stay on Bermuda have made a deep impression upon me.”

  With that said, we then proceeded up the ramp and through the gate into Dockyard proper. Heading back along the quay, my eyes were involuntarily drawn to the massive floating dock. Its impressive bulk effectively distracted me from my other thoughts. Finally, we were almost past it and I looked forward to try to find my new ship. The task was simple, as it lay in the same place from where I had disembarked from the Malabar. But I had no eyes for the ship. For there was a tall, slender figure standing a stone’s throw off from the gangplank, and when she turned her freckled cheeks lit up in rosy elation at my approach. My brain was confused by her presence, but some warm glow of hope began to r
eturn to my heart.

  Henry would have had to be a blind man to not notice Lucy, for her fiery hair and emerald green dress was enough to draw attention away from the sun itself. He followed the track of her gaze back to me, and then nodded in understanding. “Ah, Ham, I will just go make certain that everything is arranged. You will be alright here for a few minutes, will you not?”

  As I was unable to form a coherent word, he must have taken my silence for agreement, and he picked up his stride leaving me in his wake. I stood rooted to the ground, unsure of what my next action should be, my nerves worked up to the highest pitch of tension.

  She hurried forward to meet me with a face which spoke of her joy. “Hello, Doctor. I think that I forgot to tell you that you were scintillating last evening.”

  “Please, Mademoiselle,” I stammered, “I would be named if you would call me by my real honor.”

  She laughed gaily. “Your wish is my command. What is that your friends call you… ah yes, ‘Hamish?’ Tell me, Doctor, the name ‘Hamish’ means ‘James’ in Scottish, does it not?”

  “Indeed,” I replied, the word catching in my throat.

  “Then I think that this will be my pet name for you,” she reached out and took my hand in hers. “I will always remember you as my brave James.”

  I had no reply for this, and merely gazed into her green eyes. I had never known anyone so vitally alive. She lived intensely, every fiber of her being fully participating in her actions. She smiled back at me. “Oh, poor James, your honest face is twitching with anxiety. You look like a man who wishes to ask a question.”

  “No,” I stammered, “nothing comes to mind.” I dropped my gaze to the rough wooden planks of the quay.

  I could sense her smile deepening in the tone of her voice. “You are a poor fibber, James.”

  I looked up from my inspection of the ground and studied her. “Perhaps I am,” I finally replied. “In fact, I have two.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “There is no time like the present.”

  I considered my position. “If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  “About Monsieur Dubois…”

  “Hector?” said she, frowning. “What of him?”

  “Ah, well, it is just that you shared three nights with him…” I stammered.

  Her eyebrows rose archly. “Did you count, Doctor?” she replied, smiling impishly.

  “Well, you see…”

  She forestalled my discomfiture. “You need not be concerned, James. Hector’s inclinations in such matters lie in a different direction entirely. I assure you that my honor is quite intact. Or, at least, it was, until last night.” Her smile told me that she had no regrets for what had passed between us. “But you said that you had two questions?”

  “What color glass did you draw on that night? Blue or green?”

  She pursed her lips and gazed into my eyes. “I see. I had perhaps expected another question.” She nodded her head slowly. “And are you certain that you want to know the answer?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “I am not.”

  “Then perhaps it is better not to know. For regardless of the color shard, I was fully prepared to go forward with what was required of me. And I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon my conscience. He was an animal concealed in a human body.” She hung her head for a moment, and then looked up at me again. “Does that alter your feelings toward me?”

  I searched my soul for an answer and realized that, in fact, I did not care. “No, I do not think that anything could change how I feel about you. I’m yours to the rattle.”

  As I spoke, a smile erupted on her face that kindled a joy in my soul. “That is very sweet of you to say. I am most happy to hear that, James.” She reached into her handbag, and drew forth the ink-stained glove that she had worn during our first walk in the park. “I wish you to have this, as a remembrance and as a gage, for you seem to me like a knight errant of old.” She pulled my hand to her breast and then leaned in to kiss me on my cheek. As she did so, I breathed in her scent and felt the warmth of her lips. It was a memory that I knew would stay with me for many years to come. A final whisper carried on it the words that I had been longing to hear. A great shadow seemed to pass from my soul.

  Before I could reply in turn, she pulled away. I began to open my mouth, but she raised her fingers to my lips and stilled my voice. “No, James, do not speak. I could not bear to hear it. Know this… I wish that we had met under different circumstances. Your destiny awaits you in London, where I know that your star will rise high. And I must return to San Francisco, at least temporarily. But if you ever find yourself in my fair city, I would be most happy if you would call upon me. Do not lose heart, James. As a wise man once said, ‘journeys end in lovers meeting.’ This is not an adieu. Instead I will say only à bientôt.” She dropped my hand and turned away from me. I watched her walking briskly down the quay until her vivid scarlet hair was but a speck in the somber distance. But she never turned to look at me again. I felt as if a void had been created in my heart, and I wondered how I would possibly fill it.

  §

  After Lucy had quitted my vision, Henry quietly rejoined me. He gave me a questioning glance, but otherwise held his peace. We walked the rest of the way to the gangplank in silence. There we were met by a short, thick man with a chinchilla beard growing out of the creases of his double chin, and wearing the typical dress of the English sailor. He was clearly the ship’s purser.

  I gave him my name, which he checked again a list that he held. Finally locating it, he looked up with a pleasant smile. “Welcome aboard the Orontes, Dr. Watson. We will have you on a Portsmouth jetty in less than a month. You will have plenty of time before the holidays and the New Year.”

  Before I could board, however, Henry enfolded me in a brotherly embrace. Finally stepping back, he allowed me to start up the ramp. When I reached the midway point, I heard his voice call after me one final time. “Whatever shall you do once you get to London, brother?”

  I turned about to look him in the eyes, and shook my head. “I shall have to take lodging, though to be honest, Henry, with my limited funds I suspect that I may need to find a roommate. Given the state of my nerves, someone studious and quiet I hope.”

  §

  Postscript:

  The Fourth of December, 1880

  My dear Henry,

  You will be happy to know that my time onboard the Orontes was most pleasant. I spent a considerable time conversing with a new acquaintance, a globetrotter called Sir Montague Brown. He listened to my adventures upon the Isle of Devils and encouraged me to set down the facts while they were still quite recent and before my recollections faded. Knowing your passion for fantastic stories, I thought I should entrust you with this extract of reminiscences from my journal, in which you will finally understand what transpired at the Globe Hotel and the reasons for my reticence when we parted. Perhaps inspired by Mr. Tom Moore, who found the climate of Bermuda so conducive to writing, this tale has expanded to a length approaching that of a novel. It implicates so many people that, for many years, it will be impossible to make it public without the case becoming a cause célèbre. Please keep it safe for me. Perhaps someday, when the principal protagonists have had their frail threads snapped by Clothis, the truth can finally be brought to light. To do so now would be an unthinkable breach of confidence. Until we meet again, brother, I remain, affectionately,

  John Hamish Watson, M.D.

  Late Army Medical Department

  Mailed from Portsmouth, England

  §

  LITERARY AGENT’S NOTES

  What are we to make of this remarkable document? The sixty unquestioned cases that comprise the Sherlock Holmes Canon demonstrate but four examples of episodes where Holmes solves a case without the assistance of Dr. John H. Watson, two solved before he met Watson (The “Gloria Scott”, 1874, & The Musgrave Ritual, 1879), and two narrated by Holmes when either Watson had deserted him for
a wife (The Adventure of the Blanched Soldier, 1903), or during Holmes’ retirement upon the Sussex Downs (The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane, 1907).

  However, there are no known authentic examples of Watson solving a case without Holmes. The closest thing we have is when Holmes would send Watson to be his representative / understudy on a mission. In 1889, Watson was dispatched to accompany Sir Henry Baskerville to Dartmoor, where he would write up reports of his inquiries to Holmes, who ostensibly remained behind in order to attempt to stop a “disastrous scandal” from occurring in London (Chapters VI through XI, The Hound of the Baskervilles). However, Watson’s activities were later revealed to be intended as a distraction while Holmes carried out the true investigation from his lair beneath the Vixen Tor. In 1895, Holmes claimed to be too busy with “important research” to investigate the case of Violet Smith, so he sent Watson to observe the facts for himself (The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist). Perhaps the most pure example occurred in 1899 when Holmes was too occupied with the case of the two Coptic Patriarchs to go out to Lewisham himself, so he sent Watson to gather the details of Mr. Josiah Amberley’s house (The Adventure of the Retired Colourman). And finally, in 1901 Holmes sent Watson to Lausanne, Switzerland to determine the fate of Lady Frances Carfax, though he failed to trust Watson to accomplish this task himself and followed him in the disguise of a French working-man (The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax). However, Watson admits that during Holmes absence known as the Great Hiatus (1891 - 1894) he attempted “more than once” to solve “various problems which came before the public,” albeit “with indifferent success” (The Adventure of the Empty House).