by Ted Bell
“I told you! On an aeroplane.”
“Ah, yes, you said that, didn’t you? Well, there you have it. I say, would you like a cup of tea?”
CHAPTER XIII
Captain Thor’s Surprise
· 6 June 1939 ·
HAWKE CASTLE
You’re not a Nazi, are you, Hobbes?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I imagine you’re not,” Kate said, lifting another toasted and buttered crumpet to her mouth. “Not if you’re a friend of my father’s. He hates Nazis.”
“Please be assured that I am neither a Nazi nor a Chinaman.”
“Who’s that funny-looking man in the picture over the fireplace, Hobbes?”
“That is the savior of your country, Miss. Winston Spencer Churchill. His lordship’s uncle, as it happens. And he is hardly funny-looking, as you put it.”
Katie was glad the funny man wasn’t so jumpy anymore. Ever since she’d told Hobbes that her father was Angus McIver and that she lived in the Greybeard Light, he seemed ever so much more relaxed. He didn’t even seem to be worried anymore that they’d gotten inside his castle. Or about Nicky and Gunner messing about with all of his boats and aeroplanes. Her father, Hobbes said, was a fine man and he was delighted to have his friend’s charming daughter as a guest at Hawke Castle. He looked forward to meeting Nick and Gunner, too, as soon as he’d gotten the weary Kate some tea. Kate thought he was awfully nice, in a funny way.
Now, having tea before the fire in a massive hearth in the great hall of Hawke Castle, Kate had been telling her new friend of their recent adventures. He seemed interested in the chest they’d found, and very interested in Nazis, too, especially the German submarine that had given them such a ride. And how her brother had lassoed it, trying to find out how fast it’d go.
“I suppose you’re not actually a Nazi, Hobbes. I can’t imagine you in a strawberry patch, which is where they all hide, you know.” She carefully lifted her cup, trying not to spill as she took a sip. “Mmm, yummy.”
“I endeavor to give satisfaction, Miss,” Hobbes said with a smile.
“Are you a butler, Hobbes?” Kate asked, looking at him quizzically.
“I beg your pardon, Miss,” Hobbes said nonchalantly, although he’d never heard a more outrageous question in his life.
“I only asked because I thought butlers wore frock coats and striped trousers, not their underwear.”
Hobbes barely suppressed a gasp.
“I assure you that I am not a butler nor are these my under-garments. This is my fencing attire. And this is my favorite tweed jacket which, while stylish, also provides a modicum of warmth in this drafty old pile. While perhaps not appropriate for tea, this is the wardrobe of choice for active swordplay. Now, about this pirate kidnapping your dog, I must say I—”
“He’s really scary, Hobbes, with little skulls in his beard and a big sword and even his name is scary. Billy Blood. Isn’t that a frightful name?”
Hobbes dropped his teacup.
It hit the stone floor with a tinkling crash and broke into a thousand pieces. Some of the tea splashed up on Katie’s apron and her kneesocks.
“Oh! I’m terribly sorry, my dear, I hope I didn’t—I hope I didn’t—” Hobbes suddenly stopped and stood straight up. He looked Kate squarely in the eyes. “Did you say Billy Blood? I distinctly heard you say that name. Billy Blood. Did you say it?”
The warm smile had flown from Hobbes’s face, replaced by a stormy look that startled Kate. It looked like thunder was coming next, maybe lightning.
“Yes, Billy Blood is his name. We met him at the Greybeard Inn last night after we found the treasure chest I told you about. I think he’s bad,” Kate said. “Nick thinks he’s after our treasure chest and that’s why he’s kidnapped our dog. Is he a friend of yours?”
“Never could one man lay less claim to my friendship than William Blood. It is my life’s great misfortune to know that vile kidnapper. Know what a kidnapper is, my child?”
“Someone who steals poor little children?” Kate replied, a furrow of worry creasing her smooth brow. “Steals them from their beds in the night?”
“That’s Billy all right. A heartless thief of wee children, although he prefers rich ones to poor ones, my dear. He roams the Seven Seas, stealing the babies of wealthy parents! Holds them somewhere until exorbitant ransoms are paid. I thought we had lost sight of that vile kidnapper forever, but apparently we have not. This is grave news you bring, my dear, grave news indeed.”
Hobbes didn’t look well. All the color had drained from his face and his hands shook as he knelt and picked up the pieces of broken teacup.
“So he’s back, is he? Well, well, well. Our old friend returns, does he? I suppose it’s not enough that we have Germans to contend with, is it? Sailing about, spying on us, staring at us night and day?”
“Are you all right, Hobbes?” Kate asked. The man looked positively ill.
“Hmm? Bit of a shock is all, nothing really. I’m afraid we must go and see Lord Hawke at once. Hmm. Yes. Come with me, child!” Hobbes said, getting to his feet. “It is imperative that you tell Lord Hawke everything you know or remember about your meeting with this man Blood. How he looked, what he said, everything! Let’s go!”
“May I finish my tea?”
“Sorry, my dear, we’ve not a moment to spare!”
He saw his fencing foil resting against the stone hearth and took it in hand as if he’d be soon in need of it. Then he took her hand and led her through the great hall, past many suits of armor standing at attention and the door to the little room that moved.
Just as they were walking past it, the door slid into the wall again and there stood Nick and Gunner. Gunner was holding the sea chest, and the cat Horatio was perched on his shoulder. Kate noticed that Hobbes was staring at the little group with the same bug-eyed stare that he’d first used on her. He’d forgotten to close his mouth again, too. Kate stepped into the lift and gave her brother a peck on the cheek.
“Hullo, Nick. In case you’re wondering, this is not China and he is not Chinese, he’s Hobbes,” Kate said matter-offactly. She noticed that Nicky’s mouth was wide open too, and he was staring at her newfound friend.
“Captain Thor!” Nick said, still staring at Hobbes and standing riveted inside the little room. “So you are here! I saw your beautiful boat down there and I thought you—”
“He’s not Captain Thor, Nicky, his name is Commander Hobbes and he makes the most wonderful tea and crumpets,” Katie said. “He lets me call him just Hobbes. And he’s not going to cut off my head with his sword, either.”
“So you’re Nick McIver!” Hobbes said, as if he’d been waiting his whole life to meet him. He stuck out his hand to Nick, shook it, and then practically pulled Nicky into the room, looking him over from head to toe. “I am so very happy to meet you, young Nick! I simply can’t thank you enough for all the diligent work you’ve done for us! Your sister was just telling me about your encounter with a German submarine. I understand you attempted some kind of fix on her running speed? Most valiant piece of naval espionage, my boy! Worthy of some kind of recognition from the Ministry, I should imagine. Yes!”
“Captain Thor!” Nick exclaimed. “I’m so very happy to meet you, as well, sir! Ever since the day I first saw your splendid craft leaving the harbor I’ve been hoping to meet the man who owned her. And, of course my father holds you in the very highest—”
“Please, Nick,” Hobbes said, taking his arm. “I am loath to interrupt what are likely expressions of kindness, but we were just on our way to see his lordship on a matter of some urgency. Please feel free to join us, both of you. Lord Hawke yields to no one in his desire for privacy, but in this case I’m sure he’ll make a joyous exception. Indeed! Children in the house again!”
“May we bring him this sea chest, sir?” Nick asked. “This is my friend Gunner who is carrying it.” Gunner smiled at Hobbes who nodded politely, but it was clear Gunner would ha
ve preferred to be anywhere at all but Hawke Castle. Nick smiled and continued. “This chest is why we took a chance and came here, sir. Lord Hawke being a world-famous scientific detective, I mean. Probably the only man alive who can solve the mystery of an old chest that looks so new, is what we are hoping.”
“Quite true, quite true, I daresay it really doesn’t smack of antiquity at all,” Hobbes said, putting a finger to the side of his nose and bending to inspect it. “Not at all! It does not look a recent vintage, does it? Strange. Hmm, yes.”
“Right, almost like it washed up on shore from another time, doesn’t it, sir?”
Hobbes clasped his hand to Nick’s shoulder and locked up his eyes with a warm smile.
“Indeed, you’ve done the right thing by coming here, Nick! We must bring it at once to his lordship’s study. It most certainly has a direct bearing on a desperate case that Lord Hawke and I have been investigating for many years.” Hobbes once more ran his hand over the smooth surface of the sea chest.
“The chest has my own name on it, too, Commander,” Nick said.
“All very curious,” Hobbes said, and bounded away.
They all struck off in hot pursuit of Hobbes who was galloping up the broad stone steps of the wide grand staircase that led from the great hall to the floors above. “Follow me!” Hobbes cried over his shoulder, taking the stairs three at a time and waving them onward with his whippy little sword.
“Lord love us all, will you look at this room, Nick?” Gunner said with a whistle of appreciation as they came to the end of a lengthy gallery that stretched high above the sea.
“This is the library,” Hobbes said. They had entered a large circular room that was, in fact, the ground floor of the castle turret. “It’s quite extensive, actually,” Hobbes continued, “and takes up this and the three floors you see above you. It includes every volume on ancient military history and weaponry in existence and of course all the important works of English and world literature, science, and the arts. Including translations of many of his lordship’s own works of forensic science, of course.”
They all looked at the three circular floors of books spiraling around the open shaft up the center. Late-afternoon sunlight streamed down from windows somewhere high above. In the center of the library floor, there was a gleaming brass pole that seemed to disappear high into the ceiling four floors above. Hobbes saw Nick admiring it.
“It’s an American firehouse pole,” Hobbes said. “His lordship acquired it while on a visit to Chicago.”
As Nick tried to imagine a fat English lord in a pinstripe suit sliding down a four-story fireman’s pole, Hobbes opened the door to a small adjoining room with desk, chair, and a black telephone. He pulled the door shut and they could see him talking, rather urgently it seemed, through a window set in the door. He kept looking at Nick while he spoke, nodding his head, and soon emerged from the little telephone room wearing a happy smile.
“He’ll grant you ten minutes, no longer,” Hobbes said, pushing the lift button and gazing up as the slender mahogany carriage descended from the top floor. “It will be interesting to see how he reacts.”
“What do you mean, Commander?” Nick asked.
“To the three of you, I mean.” Hobbes replied, casting his eye over the visitors. “Outside of myself, his lordship’s uncle Winston Churchill, and a handful of people at Buckingham Palace, my Lord Hawke hasn’t uttered a word to a single living soul in more than five years. And, Nick?”
“Sir?”
“Call me Hobbes. Everyone does.”
CHAPTER XIV
Lord Hawke’s Tea Party
· 6 June 1939 ·
HAWKE CASTLE
It’s open.”
A deep, gruff voice came from somewhere behind the thick carved double doors of Lord Hawke’s private study. Hobbes opened them and silently ushered them all inside. The room took Nick’s breath away. Circular, round as a compass, completely encircled in glass, it had panoramic views in every direction!
The floor, Nick saw, was a Mercator projection map of the English Channel inlaid in brilliantly colored marble. Nick found himself standing astride a compass rose inlaid in silver, and, looking west for the mainland of England, he saw its green marble coastline disappearing under Lord Hawke’s large mahogany desk. Little Kate stood, one foot on the green coast of France, the other in the blue stone channel. A fleet of scale-model battleships and cruisers were arrayed across the floor. So, Nick saw, Hawke waged mock sea battles too, on this vast likeness of the Channel!
“I suppose I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I?” Hawke said, walking around a large round table set with silver and china. He was uncomfortable, Nick could tell, clearly unused to the company of strangers. “And then you can all tell me your names, won’t you? I believe that’s still how it’s done, when uninvited strangers intrude on one’s closely guarded privacy.” He began filling his cup with tea and sat down, frowning, and folding his hands before him on the table. He was met with silence.
Hobbes looked stricken. “I’m terribly sorry, m’lord, but I thought you wished us to come up. We won’t trouble you now, if it’s not convenient, surely.” Hawke looked at Hobbes for a moment, unsmiling, and then turned his gaze to the window, staring in brooding silence at the sea below.
“As you wish,” Hawke said quietly.
“It’s my fault, your lordship,” Nick said, nervously. “We thought it was important to bring some things to your attention, and—”
“Yes, yes, come along, children. Gunner,” Hobbes said, gathering them up, “his lordship feels perhaps another time would be best.” Hobbes was already moving toward the door. “We’ll set a proper time for a formal visit. I think that would be best.”
“Yes,” Nick said, backing toward the door. “Some other time. We’ll come back some other time. Come along, Kate.” Nick took his sister’s hand and joined Hobbes at the door. They were all backing out the way they’d come in, pulling the door closed after them when Hawke finally spoke.
“No, no, no,” Hawke said, turning to them, a pained expression in his eyes. “Don’t go. Please. I’m terribly sorry. You must understand that I am not used to having anyone but Hobbes for company. You’re all here, aren’t you, so I insist that you have some tea. Please sit. I insist.” Nick looked at Hobbes, who nodded, and they all returned to the table and took their places, staring at each other as the embarrassing silence deepened and filled the room.
“Well,” Lord Hawke finally began, “as you may have guessed, I am Lord Hawke, the reclusive proprietor of this rather drafty old establishment,” he said, smiling when they acknowledged his feeble joke. “Now, tell me who all of you are, won’t you?” He looked at Hobbes. “Hobbes, you’re exempted, of course,” he said with a smile. “I already know who you are, don’t I?”
Nick guessed that Hawke was making these small jokes in an effort to ease the strain of the situation and he found himself both grateful and impressed.
“I see you’ve all met Commander Hobbes. He’s far too modest to tell you this, but he is the Royal Navy’s most brilliant weapons designer. All of the experimental craft you must have seen moored in my underground basin are his work.” Nick looked at Hobbes with the kind of reverence normally allotted to the gods. Here, then, was the genius behind the two-man sub! And the tri-motor seaplane!
“Who might you be, child?” Hawke suddenly asked Kate, swiveling his head in her direction. He had a fierce gaze, and you knew when he was looking at you.
“Katie McIver, age six,” Kate said shyly, “almost seven.”
“Ages, too? I’ll excuse myself from that one, if you don’t mind,” said Hawke. “But, thank you, Kate. This poor room hasn’t known the sound of children’s voices in many, many years, I’m terribly sad to say.”
A haunted, wounded look passed across his face and Nick had a sense of deep mourning about the man, of a heavy sadness filling the castle. Sorrow seemed to have settled in here, like dust on the chandeliers and in
the draperies. Hawke, though hardly older than Nick’s father, had the look of a man aged prematurely by grief.
Hawke was tall with sharply chiseled features, and wore long curly blond hair that brushed the collar of his loose-fitting white cotton shirt. He certainly didn’t look anything at all like Nick had expected an English lord to look. Although he’d never met a peer of the realm before, Nick more or less expected them all to be short and rather plump, with red cheeks and wavy white hair. And wearing blue pinstriped suits with gold watch chains spangled across their waistcoats.
Lord Hawke looked, Nick thought—well, he looked more like one of the Three Musketeers! Behind his sadness, there remained a faint sparkle in his crinkly blue eyes, the look of someone who, once upon a time, had gotten a great deal of fun out of life.
“I’m Archibald Steele, m’lord,” Nick heard Gunner say, interrupting his study of Lord Hawke. “Royal Navy gunnery, retired. Me friends call me Gunner, sir, and I’m most sorry to have intruded upon your privacy.”
Archibald? Nick looked at Gunner, astounded. He’d never heard Gunner divulge his real name before.
“May I count myself among their number, Gunner, and call you that as well?” Hawke asked.
“I’d be honored, m’lord,” Gunner said, smiling nervously. He still had the air of a man who was feeling lucky just because he’d not yet been shot at point-blank range. He hadn’t wanted to come here, and clearly Hawke was making an enormous effort to be polite about their intrusion. In an odd way, though, Gunner felt that the man was glad they were there.
“Well, Gunner, have some tea and tell me more about this mysterious sea chest. Hobbes assures me it’s something I should see, or I should never have subjected the three of you to my black moods and poor manners.”
“It’s here, m’lord, let me place it on the table,” Gunner said, and he did, the muscles in his massive forearms bulging with the effort.
