by K. T. Tomb
“Doctor,” John said as greeting. He didn’t look up to see the man, more saw him through his peripheral vision. His attention was on the dark fin of a shark cruising off the port bow. There must be a shoal of fish to attract the huge predator to the surface.
“Good day, Mr. Lee,” said the doctor. “I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time, if you are not too busy.” John was clearly not engaged in any activity whatsoever, and was amused. Had he really been so far removed from the company of Englishmen that he had forgotten the stilted, overly polite conversational style?
“Of course, Dr. Pikeham. What is it that I can do for you?” John said, his English accent slightly tinted from speaking Hindi exclusively for several years, save for his negotiations with Captain Sykes back in Mangalore. Pikeham fidgeted with his pocket watch for a moment.
“I know you were in the Army, and I do apologize if I caused you any distress when we were in port. I’m afraid my mouth sometimes runs away from me, so to speak. I meant no offense.”
John cocked his head. “None taken. I have been wondering, though, how it was you knew me to be a former soldier. I don’t quite look the part anymore.”
Pikeham smiled, with glittery eyes as one who knows a secret is wont to have. John disliked the look. The yogi he had studied under had told him that the god, Chitragupta, wrote down the stories of every living man, and deciding on his death whether to send him to heaven or hell, or to condemn the soul back to earth, reincarnated in another body. Therefore, the yogi contended, it was not in our interests to keep secrets, as they belonged to Chitragupta alone. Pikeham’s eyes betrayed a man who kept many secrets, and guarded them jealously.
“It was your bearing, when encountering a gentleman. The deference you showed me was more than the mere politeness of Englishmen meeting abroad; it was as you were trained. Therefore I deduced that you were military, and of a low rank. If you were in India, and looking as you do, then you must be a deserter—oh no, my dear man. I won’t say a word.” Pikeham had clearly seen John about to, well… John wasn’t sure what he was about to do. He couldn’t easily push Pikeham over the side of the ship to keep his secret. Not only would that be a great sin, it would merely trade the crime of desertion for that of murder. Of course, both would carry the death penalty, but if John Lee was to die on his return to England, he would rather it be the less shameful of the two. In any case, Pikeham had no proof, and John had the documents from the real, deceased John Lee in his pack, stowed below deck.
Pikeham spoke again, as John fixed him with a brow-shaded glare. “My dear fellow, you really have nothing to fear from me. I am not the army, and nor am I Queen Victoria. I have no quarrel with you. In fact, I wish to offer you an opportunity.”
“An opportunity?” John said. “What kind of opportunity would a botanist have for a man such as me? I am no scholar.”
“No, you are not. But you are clearly a clever man, and a resourceful one. You have evaded capture in The Raj for quite some time. I am to visit several islands on our way to China, which I am sure you know by now. I humbly request that you accompany me on these islands, as my personal aide. In case there is any… trouble. Wild animals and such. I take it you can shoot, being a rifleman in your past life?” Pikeham smoothed his mustache and stumbled a little as the ship crested a wave.
“I’d advise you two things, Doctor. Firstly, I would thank you not to talk about past lives on board this ship. The wheel of life is no joking matter to the Indian, nor to me, for that matter. Secondly, hold onto the balustrade or you will surely knock yourself cold talking to me this far afore,” John said. “In answer to your question; aye, I can shoot. I have no rifle, but I can shoot and fight. What’s it worth to me? Your silence about my past?”
Pikeham took John’s advice and gripped the iron bar that ran around the prow of the ship. “My dear Mr. Lee, I would not use such skulduggery as to hold you in bondage with a threat. I say, it is no business of mine who you are or what you have done in the past. I beg your forgiveness for bringing it up. I have an excellent rifle and shot in my cabin, which I will happily lend you. I will also compensate you with the sum of a guinea per day, for every day that we are on land. Do we have an accord?”
A guinea a day. Fifteen times at least what he had earned with the army as a basic rate, although of course they would not be on shore for long, he imagined. A guinea was a good rate of pay for a jeweler or a skilled smith in England. To imagine paying such a sum to a simple man such as himself, John reasoned, surely implied that Pikeham not only suspected there might be danger, but that he was sure of it. There would be men from this ship about whom Chitragupta would soon cease writing about, of that he was sure. He met Pikeham’s clever eyes without another word, and offered his hand to seal the agreement. If there truly was danger ahead, John would like to be armed before he faced it, and may the Lord Ganesha give him guidance on where the evil was to strike down, and where the good were to protect. As to which Pikeham was, he did not know. Possibly neither, he was a man of science, after all. Pikeham smiled, and shook John’s hand, before turning and walking away, back below decks. John turned to the sea, and saw the shimmer of land on the horizon at the same time as Little Gupta, the lookout, yelled from the crow’s nest. It looked like John would earn his first guinea a little earlier than anticipated.
Dinosaur Island
is available at:
Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK
About the Author:
K.T. Tomb enjoys traveling the world when not writing adventure thrillers. She lives in Portland, Oregon. Please find her on the web at:
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