Snake Bite

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Three days later, Sherlock was sitting on an empty crate on the quayside, looking at the Gloria Scott. European sailors and Chinese dock workers were scurrying all over her like ants, checking the rigging and the sails, and carrying barrels and crates up the gangplank.

‘She’ll be leaving tomorrow,’ Cameron said from beside him.

‘I know,’ Sherlock replied.

‘You’re going to be on her?’

He nodded. ‘I thought about staying,’ he said. ‘But there’s too much waiting for me back home. My brother, my friends…’

‘And that girl,’ Wu Fung-Yi said from Sherlock’s other side. ‘The one you don’t talk about.’

‘Then how do you know there’s a girl?’ Sherlock asked.

‘Because you’re going back,’ Wu said with unarguable logic.

Sherlock turned to look at Cameron. ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Do you think you’ll stay here in Shanghai?’

Cameron shrugged. ‘I doubt it,’ he said eventually. ‘I think Mother wants to go back to America. I must admit, I would like to see the place. I want to see if it’s as big as everyone says.’

‘And you’re staying?’ Sherlock asked, turning to Wu.

The Chinese boy nodded. ‘My mother needs me. I’m all she has left. So I’ll stay. Maybe I’ll learn to cook, like my father. Maybe I’ll do something else. Mother wants me to take the examinations for the Civil Service, but that costs a lot of money and takes a lot of time.’

‘But if you get in,’ Cameron observed, ‘then you’re made for life. No more financial worries, ever.’

Wu smiled, and nodded. ‘My father would be proud,’ he said, ‘if…’

‘Yes,’ Cameron said quietly. ‘If.’

‘Write to me,’ Sherlock said. ‘If you can. If you get the chance. I’ll give you the address.’

The three boys sat there for a while in silence, each thinking his own thoughts.

‘Anyone fancy lunch?’ Cameron asked eventually. ‘I’m getting hungry.’

‘One of the fishing boats brought a catch of squid in earlier,’ Wu said. ‘Fried in ginger and soy sauce, it’s wonderful. You can’t beat it.’

‘Better than bacon and eggs?’

‘Far better.’

The two boys stood up. ‘You coming?’ Cameron asked Sherlock.

‘I’ll follow in a while,’ he said. ‘Save some squid for me.’

The two boys walked off, arguing and shoving, and Sherlock watched them go with a smile on his face. It had never occurred to him that he would find friends as good as Matty and Virginia, but he had. Maybe he always would, wherever he went.

He thought about what he would tell Matty and Virginia about his adventures when he got back to England. He thought about the voyage out, the storm and the pirate attack, and he thought about the experiences he’d been through in Shanghai, and along the Yangtze River. So much to tell.

The pirate attack. Something still bothered him about that. It was the way he’d found that pirate searching Mr Arrhenius’s cabin, apparently looking for the coded message intended for Malcolm Mackenzie. The pirate had known it was there, which suggested that the entire pirate attack had been mounted just so they could get hold of that message. But who had the reach and influence to organize Chinese pirates to attack a trading ship so they could get hold of a coded message?

The Paradol Chamber, of course.

They had abducted Sherlock in the first place, and put him on the Gloria Scott. Sherlock had been assuming all this time that they had done it for revenge, to punish him for the way he had interfered with their plans, but maybe there was more to it than that. Maybe the Paradol Chamber had found out about the plot to blow up an American ship and wanted to stop it. Maybe a war between America and China didn’t suit their plans, and they decided to interfere.

Was that the real reason the Paradol Chamber had placed Sherlock on the Gloria Scott? Had he inadvertently been working for them all this time? But surely with a reach like theirs, they could have stopped it in some other way? They didn’t need a boy from England or some Chinese pirates to do it?

He smiled. It didn’t matter, not really. He and Cameron and Wu had saved lives and prevented a war. It didn’t matter whose idea it had been. They had done the right thing.

‘’Scuse me.’

He glanced up. A man was standing in front of him. He was wearing typical sailor’s clothes, and judging by their sun-bleached, salt-caked look, and the tanned look of his skin, he had recently disembarked from a ship. Sherlock looked him up and down, and quickly characterized him, based on what he could see. Born in Yorkshire, but living in London. Married. Five children. Mother alive but father died recently.

‘Yes?’ he said politely.

‘Is your name Holmes? Sherlock Holmes?’

He straightened up. ‘Yes. Yes it is.’

The man held out an envelope. It had been folded and refolded many times, and there was dirt in the creases of the folds, as well as water stains and candle wax on the thick brown paper. ‘This is for you. I brought it all the way from England. I was given it.’

Sherlock’s mouth was suddenly dry, and his heart was beating faster than it had when he had fought Mr Arrhenius. ‘Thanks…’ he said, reaching out to take it. His other hand delved into his pocket. ‘Here, look, I should—’

The man shook his head. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve been paid well to deliver it. I’ve been working for your brother for several years now, travelling around the world for him. He told me not to take any money from you. He said, “Tell the young man that he needs to conserve his money if he is to have any hope of getting home in one piece.”’

Sherlock laughed. The sailor’s impression of his brother Mycroft was spot-on. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I appreciate it.’

The sailor looked around. ‘You’ve been here a while,’ he said. ‘Any tips?’

‘Apparently,’ Sherlock said, ‘the squid is very good.’

The sailor frowned, then nodded and walked off. Sherlock noticed that his legs were still not used to dry land.

With hands that trembled a little bit more than he would have liked, Sherlock opened the envelope. From it he pulled out a letter, and a smaller envelope. Putting the smaller envelope to one side he began to read the letter.

Sherlock lowered the letter. His hand was trembling. He picked up the second envelope. The writing on the front was delicate, feminine. One minute ago, knowing that it was a message from Virginia, nothing could have prevented him from reading it. Now, having seen Mycroft’s message, the last thing in the world he wanted to do was to open it.

But it was too late. The message had been conveyed. The genie had been released from the bottle.

He swallowed, and stared at the Gloria Scott, as it was being readied for the voyage home.

How could a few words change his world so completely?

How could his heart be broken so quickly by someone so far away?

Slowly he crumpled the half-read letter from Mycroft, and the unopened envelope from Virginia, as he stared blindly out at the bustling activity on the quayside.