A SHIPMATE'S FAREWELL
Shore leave passed Lucy in a whirl, for Caspian must be shown to every part of his dominions, and his Ancient predecessors must be with him. Even Eustace grumbled he should sooner be in dry dock below the castle, heaving on ropes and attacking encrustations hard as pebbles against the Dawn Treader's keel. During the first ten days at Narrowhaven they saw Drinian only after dark: grimy, exhausted, but cheerful as he reported rapid progress in the complicated business of a full refit.
"You must take some leisure yourself now, my Lord." When Caspian used his friend's land title, everyone knew there was no appeal. "My Lord Bern intends to carry us to his own estates on Avra tomorrow; as his old friend Tirian's son, he would welcome you no less than myself in the party. Rhince is entirely competent to manage half the crew in your absence."
"I should never have appointed him to his place, were he not." The double gates, studded with iron nails, of Narrowhaven Castle loomed ahead of them; below, beyond the town, torches flared fore, aft and at the masthead of the beached royal galleon, spiking out long shadows before the figures that moved stealthily about her decks. Drinian frowned over his shoulder, idly recalling how much simpler life had been as a mere seaman in another sovereign's navy. Simpler, but less satisfying, he reminded himself sternly. He squared his shoulders, stepped aside as Eustace pounded on the gates to demand admittance, and summoned a smile.
"Very well, Sire; since Duke Bern is so good as to extend his invitation to a rough mariner, I'll cross to Bernstead with your party. You'll allow that I send word to Rhince in the morning? He returns from his leave at midnight - or thereabout."
"You, soldier! Carry this message to Our galleon in Our name!" The regal command rang across a still courtyard, bringing the shaggy-haired brute that had first denied entry to his Emperor a year before scampering, polished helmet in hand. "That Master Rhince be instructed by Us, and by my Lord Drinian, Our Lord Admiral, to assume command of the work aboard the Dawn Treader during his Captain's deserved leave. Come to Our apartments when your errand is done."
"I say, Caspian," whispered Edmund, as the man bolted without stopping to fetch his cloak. "There wasn't any need for that high-and-mighty tone!"
"I must accustom myself to being instantly obeyed again," replied the King, his attempt at severity spoiled by the twinkle in his eye, caught by a flare of torchlight as the inner doors opened and they passed from fresh air to the musty dankness of the fortress. "It were best to start with a common soldier, before I must face Trumpkin and the Council! Ah, my Lord Bern! All's prepared for our journey tomorrow? Drinian has agreed, at our urging, to pass at least these few days in idleness."
"You'll soon be wishing me back aboard," retorted the gentleman, his determined effort to stifle a yawn failing miserably. "No, Sire, I'll not join you for supper: we have worked hard today; I'm for my cot. At what hour do we ride?"
"Six." Bern's reply met a chorus of groans, led by Eustace. "Two hours will see us at King Peter's Point, where my vessel will await us; an hour from there will deliver Your Majesties to my estate. And never fret for your ship, my Lord! Should your stout deputy be in need of you, a fast sloop can be at Bernstead in half of no time! Bid thee goodnight, if you will not join us for so little as a cup of wine. This way, Your Majesties; we have a fire in the former Governor's Parlour."
Bern's manor proved to be a modest two-storey structure of timber and stone built around a leafy courtyard, defended by a shallow moat unlikely (as Edmund pointed out) to hold off a force of Talking Mice. Rosy, well-dressed servants lined the yard to cheer Caspian's arrival, and a splendid spread of fresh bread, jam, scones and coffee awaited in the Hall. Nothing so informal had been offered on Doorn; and for the change, everyone was grateful.
"This is become my refuge from the demands of my office," Bern told them, shaking the last crumb of crust from his beard. "Come, Rhoop, naught lurks in our shadows! My wife will see all shown to their chambers; we have fine views across to the other islands here. This afternoon, I shall show you all of our estates; and this evening, we've the finest musicians in all the islands engaged to play."
"We have no desire to burden Your Lordship with expense in our honour," Caspian began anxiously. Bern waved away the very notion.
"All Avra shares the expense, and the honour, of an Emperor's coming, Sire. Tomorrow, we shall take you to the highest point of the island; The Crag, where stands a ruined fortress…"
"It was perfectly serviceable when we last visited," Edmund muttered. Lucy nudged him in the ribs.
"Nearly a thousand years ago; it might at least need redecorating by now!"
"Why, The Crag fell from useful service hundreds of years ago, Your Majesties; but it makes a picturesque spot for a picnic." Bern's wife stepped forward to guide her guests to their apartments. "Sara! Lina! Betha! Run ahead, have Their Majesties' doors stand open! The afternoons are short this time of year, Sire; you'll be glad of good fires and hot, mulled wines!"
As her captain and passengers dined at Bern's private table, and the torches that flared in her scones all burned low late that night, the Dawn Treader's sides crawled with dark shapes; that half of her crew returned from shore leave finishing a first day's work in place of the men now carousing in the taverns along the quay. Rhince's stentorian bellow called the slow and the slacking from their labours; men called out, laughed in raucous tones. The decks cleared. The dry dock where the galleon lay was plunged into silence.
Only the quickest eye might have detected the small wavering of thick shadow beneath the dragon's head prow. The ears of the dogs sniffing about the wharf for scrap of ham or a discarded bone might have caught the faintest vibration in the air as a human sighed. Something crackled; a pinprick of light flared from a crude tinderbox, breaking the narrow, intent face of Pittencream into sharp relief.
Cautious, one hand shielding the light so it cast directly into his path, the sailor crept from the protective blackness of the ship's shadow, his feet sliding on the sea-soaked timber rollers supporting her bulk. No lookout cried an alarm. One small, half-bald mutt yapped its warning when he came too close; somebody bawled a curse at the noise. But no head appeared. No dockyard idler or exhausted shipmate thrust a restraining hand. Turning away from the taverns where, last week, he had made his plans, Pittencream slipped away into the grimy streets and alleys of the town.
Nobody missed him until morning.
Rhince set up a hue and cry that had all Narrowhaven in a frenzy; but at day's end, he threw up his hands, confessed himself defeated, and commandeered a fast, ill-kept sloop for transportation to Bernstead, arriving after dark, when the household was sitting to dinner in a grand chamber with a high, vaulted ceiling painted with the constellations as seen from southern Narnia. The host, alarmed by the commotion in his courtyard, started up with his hand on his dagger, ready to challenge the disturber of an Emperor's feast; but at the sight of his deputy, a telltale vein at the side of his neck bulging in warning of repressed temper, Drinian shoved aside his chair, rose to his full, commanding height, and asked, in a tone that would slice through steel:
"What is it, Rhince?"
"The beggar's run, Cap'n." No help for it. Rhince squared his shoulders and set back his head, visibly braced for the hurricane. "We've 'ad the town out, Sir, but 'e's gone, an' that's flat."
"Run?" wondered Eustace and Celesta in unison.
"Deserted." He said it so levelly even Caspian gaped.
"Who?" he questioned, low-voiced. Rhince bristled.
"Who but, that half-rotted, scurvy, skinny-necked son of a whor – washerwoman Pittencream, Your Majesty!"
"How does Rhince know what his mother did?" demanded Eustace, shrill in the silence. Bern snorted.
"More to the matter, what, my Lord Drinian, is to be done about our faithless shipmate?"
"There's not much we can do, if you ask me," put in Edmund sensibly. "We can't hang about Narrowhaven for ever, waiting for the Duke's guard to fetch him back in chains."
"I see no reason to delay our sailing, Your Majesties."
Everyone eyed him with suspicion. "You're taking this jolly calmly, Drinian," said Lucy.
"Were I surprised, Ma'am, I should be bawling and cussing as loud as captain ever did, but there's one rogue hen in every coop. Let Pittencream go, Rhince, with none of the rewards His Majesty promised those better-hearted men of the crew. I thought he might wait until we found land beyond your dominions, Sire, but that he should fail to reach Narnia is no surprise to me."
Rhince regarded his commander with unabashed awe. "Then I'm to call off the 'ounds, Cap'n?" he questioned, uncertainty warring with regret.
"Not necessarily, but we are not the sufferers, should they fail to turn up their quarry. He's no kin that we could trace in Narnia; and I shall not be cajoled into considering him a loss to the ship! My Lord Bern, have you a corner to spare this unfortunate fellow tonight? The Boson can manage the ship a few hours more, and I should be an angry captain indeed, were any other to follow Master Pittencream's dishonourable example."
"Impossible!" exclaimed Caspian, to whom even the prospect of Pittencream's escape had been that an hour ago. "Yes, Rhince, come and dine with us, my Lady Duchess has provided ample for even another sailor's hearty appetite! We shall sail westward as intended, at the beginning of next week. Pittencream is a villain; we are well rid of him!"
"You'll hear no dispute from Rynelf to that, Your Majesty." Too relieved to be much puzzled by the composure of his commander's reaction, the big man subsided onto a bench pulled forward by Eustace. "Nor from me, neither! Aye, thank 'ee, Queen Lucy, that venison pie, with a cup o' wine, will go down a rare treat! Do we keep the town guard out, Sir?"
"Aye, so long as we remain ashore, it will do no harm for Master Pittencream to know the fear of capture and the lash." Drinian chuckled at his deputy's outraged cluck. "But if they find naught, I shan't be disappointed!"
"And should he appear after your departure, my Lord?" Bern questioned. Drinian shared a thoughtful look with the King.
"Most likely he'd appear in breach of Lone Islands law," said Caspian, slowly.
"Which is a matter for the justices of Narrowhaven," Drinian continued.
"And when we are done with this villain?" demanded Bern.
"He's no loss to Narnia," declared Edmund.
"And if it is not my Lord High Admiral's will to have him flogged through the Fleet…"
"And keel-hauled for good measure," Lucy continued, on Caspian's behalf.
"He may safely be left to do whatsoever he may choose," the King concluded. Rhince growled massively.
"'E's a competent seaman, Sire," he admitted, reluctance making the words creak from his throat. "Could work 'is passage wherever 'e chose to go."
"Anywhere but Narnia, I bet," said Eustace happily. "I don't know what keel-hauling is, but it sounds deuced unpleasant."
"The miscreant being bound, cast over the starboard side and heaved on a chain by his shipmates to the port rail?" Drinian grimaced. "Unpleasant enough to turn an iron stomach; I've seen it done, with a scurvy mutineer. 'Tis the reason I make hanging the manner of execution for any like-minded scoundrel that should infest the Narnian fleet!"
"Mutiny?" Celesta's spoon clattered into her empty dish. "Unthinkable!"
"So was desertion," said Lucy seriously, "until just now."
"Not to Drinian." said Caspian, shaking his head until his curls stood on end. "You never cease to astonish me, old friend! You knew Pittencream would run, and you said naught!"
"Your Majesty would have had a guard set at his door; how then would we be rid o' the blackguard?"
"Drinian!" Celesta shot out of her seat, long fingers pointing theatrically. "You wanted him to desert!"
"Not wanted as such, Ma'am, no; but a wise captain ought always to know the temper of every being aboard his ship. Pittencream's a fractious soul; and when the rest of us speak of the World's End, what was he to do? Confess he never saw it? His pride would never permit. Let him go elsewhere and astonish the gullible with his tales. We'll hear tell of him, one day. He is not the man to lie low for ever."
"More's the pity," muttered Rhince, into his goblet. Caspian raised his cup.
"We all," he said, content to wink at an act of treason in this instance and this one only, "can drink to that!"