‘The Mantis?’ said Watkingle. ‘That’d be a rare fight. She’s a regular ship. Pirates don’t normally go for the regulars. They might win, but they’d get mighty cut up.’
‘Feverfew’s already taken the Moth,’ said Arthur. ‘And now he’s gone for the Mantis. I wonder if. . .?’
He knows I have something to do with those two ships, Arthur thought, the shivers coming back. With his sorcery, he’s seen the connections. I’m marked by his Red Hand and he’s looking for me. I’ll never get away, I’ll never …
‘Stop!’ said Arthur, stamping his good foot. His own mind was getting out of control.
‘Stop what, sir?’ asked Watkingle.
‘Never mind.’ Arthur forced the little voice of fear in his head to shut up. He was going to strike first, and once he had the Will released and the Third Key, he could sort out Feverfew without any problems. Probably. Almost for sure. . .
‘Is Lieutenant Longtayle awake?’ he asked.
‘Captain Longtayle,’ corrected Watkingle. ‘Not his watch, but I could wake him if it’s urgent.’
‘No, I guess there’s no point waking him,’ said Arthur. He massaged his temple with his fingers as he often saw his mother doing. Perhaps that would make his headache go away. ‘What’s wrong with calling him lieutenant, anyway? The Commodore called him that.’
‘He’s a lieutenant in the service,’ explained Watkingle. ‘But he’s the captain of this ’ere ship, so he’s always called Captain on board, except by higher-ranking Rats discussing matters not to do with the ship. Understand?’
Arthur shook his head. He couldn’t concentrate on weird details like this.
‘I’ll just call him Captain all the time to be on the safe side. I suppose I should try to get some sleep.’
‘I would if I were you, sir,’ agreed Watkingle. ‘Always sleep when you can, that’s my rule. Now, as the Captain has ordered me to keep a sentry on you for your own protection, I might just lie down on this ’ere floor if you’ve no objection?’
‘Be my guest,’ said Arthur. He lay down on the bunk. There was no chance of going to sleep, he thought. He had too many ideas floating around in his head, and too many nervous fears knotting up his stomach. All kinds of worries: about Leaf, Scamandros, Sunscorch, and the crew of the Moth, about insanely driving a submarine into the mouth of a monstrous whale. . .
* * *
Arthur woke with a start. There was sunshine streaming through the porthole again. Watkingle was propped against the door with his tail across his lap, apparently asleep. But as Arthur sat up, the Rat opened one eye and his tail flicked over.
‘What time is it?’ Arthur asked.
‘Just past four bells of the forenoon watch,’ Watkingle replied. He got up, straightened out his shirt, and brushed some cheese fragments and crumbs off his breeches.
‘Which is what in normal hours?’
‘Ten o’clock in the morning.’
Arthur rubbed his eyes. He still felt incredibly sleepy.
‘So I slept for about eleven hours, right?’
‘No,’ said Watkingle. ‘You’ve been asleep for the last four days.’
‘Four days! I — I can’t have,’ stammered Arthur. ‘That’s impossible.’
‘The Captain had Mister Yongtin in to look at you when you didn’t wake up the first morning,’ said Watkingle. The Rat shuffled a bit and his tail flicked nervously. ‘He said that a combination of a sorcerous insult and a . . . um. . . blow to the head had laid you low and you ought to come good in a few days. After a few days, he said he wanted to open up your head and take a look —’ Arthur hastily felt his head. There were no bandages and he couldn’t feel any scars or stitches.
‘He was going to do it this evening if you didn’t come around,’ said Watkingle. ‘So as you’d be right for when we arrive in Port Wednesday.’
Arthur stopped feeling his head.
‘Are we nearly there?’
‘Approaching the harbour bar as we speak,’ said Watkingle. He scratched his nose and added, ‘If you’re fit, the Captain and the Commodore would like to have a word.’
Five minutes later, Arthur was in the great cabin sipping on cranberry juice. He felt surprisingly good. His broken leg didn’t hurt at all and moved more freely, the crab cast adapting to his increased mobility. He also felt fresh and quite optimistic, no longer so weighted with fear for Leaf and the others.
I will do what I can do, he thought. There’s no point worrying about anything till I’ve tried my best.