The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering
by Lady Norbert
--------------------
27 October 1899
All is being made ready for us to board the train which will take us north to view Mount Olympus. We have been busy and occupied for the past two days, so I have not had much opportunity to describe our exploits.
Two days ago, following the engagement announcement, we discussed what we would each like to do while we are here. Henry and Mina, who are enjoying that curious state which seems to fall upon couples who have recently pledged their devotion, elected to go off on their own to explore; they mentioned wanting to visit the Athens National and Archaeological Museum, which was only erected ten years ago. We are not often in the habit of touring in separate groups, but under the circumstances, the rest of us agreed to indulge the newly-betrothed pair.
The hotel (though I think it's a bit too small to really merit the name) where we have been staying is located in Plaka, the oldest neighbourhood in all of Athens, which surrounds the Acropolis. It's a very picturesque locality. Nemo proposed hiring an open-air carriage to convey us around the city, simply to view the different sights as much as possible. So the four of us presently found ourselves behind a pair of enormous horses, being drawn through the streets of Athens and able to admire the scenery on either side.
It may be wondered that I would engage in such a breach of propriety as to travel openly in a carriage with three unmarried men. It should be remembered, however, that Nemo is my guardian for all intents and purposes, and therefore spending time in his company is no more questionable than if my own father were here. I make note of this here not so much for my own awareness as for that of anyone who may chance to read this volume after my death; I can assure the reader that, in the capacity of my guardian, Nemo is a perfectly acceptable chaperone.
We left Plaka and began to tour the city, which is quite large and, of course, very old. It is to be regretted that we did not have time to stop and visit all the fascinating sights we encountered, but there is always the possibility of a return visit in the future. I will endeavour to describe here, so that I may remember, some of the more significant landmarks we passed in our drive.
One monument which must be remembered is the Temple of Zeus Olympios. Our driver, who fortunately spoke very good English, told us that, although the temple is not nearly on the same scale as the Parthenon, it took more than five hundred years to be completed. It was started in or about 515 B.C., but could not be finished owing to political upheaval; an attempt was made to complete the project in 174 B.C., but it was not until the second century A.D. that it was actually done. The Roman emperor Hadrian -- the same one for whom Hadrian's wall is named -- was responsible for its ultimate completion. It stands somewhat in ruins now, of course, but it once included 104 Corinthian columns and a statue of the god Zeus which, like the Athena Parthenos, was made of ivory and gold.
I should have liked, if opportunity had presented itself, to visit the National Library of Greece. It is the largest library in the entire country, only fifteen years old, and contains hundreds -- thousands -- of books in many different languages. We also passed the National University of Athens, an exquisite citadel of learning.
Another crumbling monument, nevertheless beautiful in its deteriorated state, was that which was erected by the grateful residents of Athens to their benefactor, Julius Antiochus Philopappos. He was an exiled prince of Commagene who settled here and held various civic offices. The driver said that this too dates from the second century.
We stopped for a late luncheon in the bustling little marketplace neighbourhood called Monastiraki, which I am told means "little monastery." It is there that we will board our train this afternoon. Luncheon was the first time any of us really spoke all day, we were all so captivated by the sights of Athens. Even during the meal, conversation was at a minimum; I cannot speak for the gentlemen, of course, but my mind was too busy contemplating everything I had seen. Then too, for part of the luncheon we were entertained by a small group of musicians , who played traditional Greek instruments. The music was wonderful.
After luncheon we browsed the marketplace a bit, merely out of curiosity. We actually had the opportunity to watch men operating an olive press to make oil. One of the workers told us there is a legend that the goddess Athena planted an olive tree in Athens because nothing else would grow here. In any case, olive oil is a very important part of the Greek economy, as is wine; the locally-grown grapes are superb, and we purchased some to enjoy after dinner that night.
Yesterday was the Sabbath, and I attended services at the Pantanassa Church in Monastiraki. It is on account of this church that the neighbourhood is called "little monastery," because the church was called the Great Monastery in the seventeenth century. It was the first time I've been in a position to observe the Sabbath in a church since we left Paris, though I'm not sure how much good it really did me. Naturally, the services were in Greek, which I do not understand! But at least I did not have to go alone. I elected to attend that particular church because it is the church of our hosts in the boarding house, so I accompanied them, and both Tom and Skinner went as well. I think we three were all a bit amused by our inability to follow the service.
It is nearly time to depart for the train station. We are travelling north, and the journey is expected to take a few days; it is more than one hundred miles to the coastal city of Lamia. From there we will continue north to Larisa, the capital of Thessaly, and then to Katerini. Rather than delay ourselves by leaving the train and journeying to Mount Olympus itself (which is not near any of the towns with rail stations), we will simply content ourselves with the view from the distance. It is a massive feature of the landscape, visible for many miles in all directions -- and as Skinner pointed out, the ancient gods are "probably not home." Our rail trip will continue to the northeast and conclude in the city of Thessaloniki, located on an inlet of the Aegean Sea. We will most likely relax in that city for a day or so before making the return trip to Piraievs to meet the Nautilus.
--------------------
30 October 1899
We are in the rail car, still making our way north. We have left Larisa and will shortly be arriving in Katerini, from which we should have a very good view of Mount Olympus -- if the weather cooperates, that is. We are now in Greece's wet season, and there has been a great deal of rain. As a result, our ability to observe the countryside through which we are passing has been somewhat hindered.
Even if the weather is agreeable, there is a chance we may not get to see the mountain after all. Mount Olympus is frequently shrouded by low-hanging clouds and mist, giving the ancient Greeks their belief that it extended all the way up to the heavens. They believed that Zeus, the king of the gods, made his home at the pinnacle, as did the other eleven major gods and goddesses of their pantheon. There they feasted on nectar and ambrosia, the foods which enabled them to retain their immortality, and enjoyed music and drama by the Muses and Graces.
To amuse us in spite of the weather, Henry has continued reading to us all from his volume of Homer; indeed, he should be reaching the end of the book today. I have brought along the handkerchiefs I purchased in Egypt and have begun to monogram them for Skinner's Christmas gift. There are six, so I am embroidering the initials "R. S." in six different colours -- one each of red, blue, green, gold, black, and brown. It has been difficult to actually do this without letting him see what I am doing, since he is never far away, but half the fun of giving a gift is maintaining secrecy from the recipient. So I'm doing my best.
Only two of Nemo's men remain with us; the rest have returned to the submarine to notify the first mate of our intentions. It is, therefore, a very small and private party here, and we rather like it that way.
--------------------
30 October 1899
The weather is slightly less dismal today as we approach Katerini. I think I have caught sight of Mount Olympus through the gloom, but it's hard to be entirely sure.
Fortunately, I almost don't mind, for we have had a fascinating topic of conversation to distract us. Mina and Henry have begun planning their wedding ceremony. Mina is a bride for the second time, so tradition dictates that it be an understated affair; however, her first wedding consisted of exchanging vows at the bedside of Jonathan, who was very ill. Therefore, she would like to actually have a small celebration this time, and as it will be Henry's first marriage, it seems only fair.
I suppose I had Christmas on my mind because I was working on the handkerchiefs. Then too, the holiday season is popular for weddings, because it's considered lucky. With that in mind, I proposed that the wedding take place at Christmastime, and we combine the marriage celebration with a Christmas party. I was concerned that I might offend Nemo with this suggestion, so I made it very hesitantly, but he seems to find it an interesting notion. After all, he has never observed Christmas before, and when we told him some of the traditional activities done at a Christmas party back in England, he grew more enthusiastic.
It has been decided that after we leave Greece, we will return to London to begin making preparations for the wedding and for Christmas. Henry has asked Nemo to stand as his best man, and Mina requested that I be her bridesmaid! I am both delighted and honoured. Unlike the last time I was a bridal attendant, this wedding will be nothing but joyful.
The wedding ceremony will take place on Christmas Eve, in the large meeting chamber aboard the Nautilus; Henry knows of a minister whom he believes will agree to board the submarine to perform the nuptials. We will have a gift exchange among ourselves following the marriage. The newlyweds will disembark and spend their wedding night in London, alone, then return to us the following day for dancing, games, and merriment. This, indeed, will be a Christmas to remember.
--------------------
2 November 1899
Yesterday was quite a startling day.
We arrived in Thessaloniki as planned; the weather continued to be terrible. Nemo was just instructing his men with regards to hiring a carriage for us when, to our very great surprise, one arrived bearing none other than the first mate!
Jaya is Indian, like Nemo himself, but younger and beardless. He alighted from the carriage and bowed to Nemo. "The Nautilus awaits you in port, Captain," he said.
"For what purpose?" asked Nemo. He sounded bewildered, and the rest of us were exchanging glances of equal puzzlement. "It was not our intention to board here."
"I know, Captain, and I apologize if I have overstepped my authority. But we received a communication two days ago, which I believe is important enough to warrant your expedited return to the ship." A second carriage pulled up and more of his men exited; they began at once to transfer our belongings to the conveyances.
"Communication? In what form? And from whom?"
"A telegraph, sir, from a Dr. Max Draper in Germany."
I was the only one who failed to recognize the name. The others all looked no longer apprehensive, but interested. We boarded the carriages and, en route to the dock, they explained to me that Dr. Draper was one of the scientists they had liberated from Moriarty's stronghold in Mongolia the day my father died. He was a somewhat elderly gentleman, but quite brilliant in his scientific pursuits.
We returned to the Nautilus and immediately made our way to the conference chamber, which is adjacent to the ship's telegraph office. The officer in charge of operating the equipment bowed and presented a printed sheet to Nemo, who took it and studied the contents. I watched his eyes grow large with astonishment.
"This is most unexpected," he said softly.
"What does it say?" asked Henry.
"Dr. Draper sends us all his good wishes and sincere thanks for our rescue efforts of several weeks back," Nemo read. "He and the other scientists have had a discussion, and they have information they think may be of use to us." He paused, as though he wasn't sure whether he should tell us the rest. "It would seem," he said finally, "that they still have the formula for the invisibility serum, the one they were forced to study and work out in the laboratory in Mongolia. He is aware that one of our company is invisible, and if we desire the formula for the original serum, we may be able to use it to create an antidote."
To a man, we all turned to look at Skinner. "Wait a minute," he said slowly. "You mean they've got the goods on how Griffin made the stuff? I might be able to turn back?" He pulled a chair away from the table and sat down heavily.
"If you wish, I can contact Dr. Draper right away and get the information," said Nemo.
"Do you still want to be visible, Skinner?" asked Mina.
He didn't answer. He took off his dark glasses, revealing the blank holes where his eyes reside in his head, and rubbed his face in a gesture of world-weariness. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at each of us in turn; his eyes met mine last of all.
"I don't know," he said quietly. He looked serious, which is so rare for him. Abruptly he got up and left the room.
We all looked at each other.
"I thought he wanted this," said Tom.
"Think about it, Tom," said Henry. "Skinner becomes visible, and suddenly he's an ordinary man again. His invisibility is both a blessing and a curse, and if he gives it up, he's giving up a huge part of his identity." Of all the men in the world, I knew that Henry could probably best understand what Skinner was feeling at that moment, so I believed his observation to be true.
We stood there in silence for a moment. Finally, since no one else seemed inclined to do anything, I said, "I'm going to go find him."
"Assuming you can see him," said Mina.
"Assuming I can see him," I agreed. "I don't think he ought to be alone right now."
Finding an invisible man in the world's largest submarine makes looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack look like child's play. He was not in his own quarters, nor the library. At length I inquired with some of the officers as to whether they had encountered Mr. Skinner, and one was finally able to tell me he'd gone up on the deck.
He stood at the railing, staring at the sea. It was still raining, of course, and the greasepaint was more or less melting off of his face. The sky was terrible, and the waters of the Aegean looked dangerous. I could hear a rumble of thunder in the distance.
I stepped onto the deck and closed the door; immediately my clothes began to dampen and stick to my skin. He heard me walking across the deck and turned. "Blimey, Bess, what do you think you're doing? You'll catch your death up here!" He shrugged off his leather duster and wrapped it around my shoulders, his own clothing at once beginning to saturate.
"Are you all right?" I asked him. I had to raise my voice; the submarine had started to move.
"Yeah, but you won't be if you stay out here."
"Then come back inside with me." It thundered again.
"I need to think."
"And you can't think where it's dry?"
"I just needed to be alone." He glanced at me meaningfully, but I wasn't having it. I may not be an Extraordinary Gentleman, but I'm extraordinarily stubborn when circumstances warrant.
"I don't think you should be alone right now."
"Why not?"
"Rodney, if it were me, would you have let me come up here alone?"
I had him there, and he knew it. He exhaled noisily. "No."
"Thank you. Now let's both go in before we catch pneumonia. I'll make us some tea."
Reluctantly, he followed me back down the ladder. We managed to avoid being spotted as we made our way through the submarine to my quarters, where I gave him a towel and a dressing-gown. "Not the most flattering thing for you to wear," I admitted, "but it's the most manly one I have. Go behind that screen over there and get out of your clothes."
"I've often dreamed of women ordering me to get out of my clothes," he said saucily, "but never like this." I ignored him -- when he's being particularly, well, Skinnerish, it's the only thing to do -- and set to work with dried ginger. Nemo has provided me with a small burner, not unlike the one Mina uses to heat chemicals, and I used it to boil some water.
By the time Skinner emerged from behind the screen, I was steeping the dried ginger in the teapot. I was not prepared for how ridiculous he looked; with the greasepaint washed away, my dressing-gown looked as though it were walking around entirely on its own, and I could not stop laughing for a minute or two.
"What? Don't I look fashionable?" he asked.
"Oh, very." I poured a cup of tea and pushed it toward him. Sitting down, I poured a second cup for myself and said, "Now, why on earth did you go outside?"
"Couldn't stay there, could I, with you lot looking at me." He took a sip of tea, and I stared as the liquid slid down his invisible throat.
"Didn't you once tell me that the reason you joined the League in the first place was because they promised you a cure?"
"Yeah," he admitted. "But I didn't think I'd be staying on after we saved the world, you know. Thought it'd be goodbye and good riddance to old Rodney Skinner."
I had my cup halfway to my lips when something occurred to me. "Are you concerned about staying with the League if you take the cure?"
He didn't answer. I took that to mean yes.
"Oh, but they wouldn't ask you to leave," I said earnestly. "You're -- you're one of the League. You're a part of the team." He didn't seem to be looking at me, so I pressed on. "You're a part of this family."
"Family?" He gave a funny laugh. Then he hesitated. "I guess you could call it that, couldn't you." It wasn't a question. We drank our tea in companionable silence for a moment.
"What do you think I should do?" he asked finally.
I admit I was taken aback by the question. I would have expected him to ask Henry, or perhaps Mina -- would they accept a cure for their unusual conditions, if given the chance? I could hardly be said to be an expert on much of anything. I sipped at my tea, considering.
"I can't say what I would do in your situation," I conceded. "But speaking as your friend...I think you should do whatever will make you happy."
He chuckled. "Wisdom for the ages, Bessie." He drained his cup. "Not bad," he added, indicating the tea. He stood up, so I did the same. I removed the duster, and he removed the dressing-gown, and we traded; he took his sodden clothing from where he had draped it over the changing screen.
"Thanks for the tea and sympathy," he quipped. As I watched, my hand was lifted from my side and raised to a pair of invisible lips in that familiar gesture of mock chivalry.
"Any time."
by Lady Norbert
27 October 1899
All is being made ready for us to board the train which will take us north to view Mount Olympus. We have been busy and occupied for the past two days, so I have not had much opportunity to describe our exploits.
Two days ago, following the engagement announcement, we discussed what we would each like to do while we are here. Henry and Mina, who are enjoying that curious state which seems to fall upon couples who have recently pledged their devotion, elected to go off on their own to explore; they mentioned wanting to visit the Athens National and Archaeological Museum, which was only erected ten years ago. We are not often in the habit of touring in separate groups, but under the circumstances, the rest of us agreed to indulge the newly-betrothed pair.
The hotel (though I think it's a bit too small to really merit the name) where we have been staying is located in Plaka, the oldest neighbourhood in all of Athens, which surrounds the Acropolis. It's a very picturesque locality. Nemo proposed hiring an open-air carriage to convey us around the city, simply to view the different sights as much as possible. So the four of us presently found ourselves behind a pair of enormous horses, being drawn through the streets of Athens and able to admire the scenery on either side.
It may be wondered that I would engage in such a breach of propriety as to travel openly in a carriage with three unmarried men. It should be remembered, however, that Nemo is my guardian for all intents and purposes, and therefore spending time in his company is no more questionable than if my own father were here. I make note of this here not so much for my own awareness as for that of anyone who may chance to read this volume after my death; I can assure the reader that, in the capacity of my guardian, Nemo is a perfectly acceptable chaperone.
We left Plaka and began to tour the city, which is quite large and, of course, very old. It is to be regretted that we did not have time to stop and visit all the fascinating sights we encountered, but there is always the possibility of a return visit in the future. I will endeavour to describe here, so that I may remember, some of the more significant landmarks we passed in our drive.
One monument which must be remembered is the Temple of Zeus Olympios. Our driver, who fortunately spoke very good English, told us that, although the temple is not nearly on the same scale as the Parthenon, it took more than five hundred years to be completed. It was started in or about 515 B.C., but could not be finished owing to political upheaval; an attempt was made to complete the project in 174 B.C., but it was not until the second century A.D. that it was actually done. The Roman emperor Hadrian -- the same one for whom Hadrian's wall is named -- was responsible for its ultimate completion. It stands somewhat in ruins now, of course, but it once included 104 Corinthian columns and a statue of the god Zeus which, like the Athena Parthenos, was made of ivory and gold.
I should have liked, if opportunity had presented itself, to visit the National Library of Greece. It is the largest library in the entire country, only fifteen years old, and contains hundreds -- thousands -- of books in many different languages. We also passed the National University of Athens, an exquisite citadel of learning.
Another crumbling monument, nevertheless beautiful in its deteriorated state, was that which was erected by the grateful residents of Athens to their benefactor, Julius Antiochus Philopappos. He was an exiled prince of Commagene who settled here and held various civic offices. The driver said that this too dates from the second century.
We stopped for a late luncheon in the bustling little marketplace neighbourhood called Monastiraki, which I am told means "little monastery." It is there that we will board our train this afternoon. Luncheon was the first time any of us really spoke all day, we were all so captivated by the sights of Athens. Even during the meal, conversation was at a minimum; I cannot speak for the gentlemen, of course, but my mind was too busy contemplating everything I had seen. Then too, for part of the luncheon we were entertained by a small group of musicians , who played traditional Greek instruments. The music was wonderful.
After luncheon we browsed the marketplace a bit, merely out of curiosity. We actually had the opportunity to watch men operating an olive press to make oil. One of the workers told us there is a legend that the goddess Athena planted an olive tree in Athens because nothing else would grow here. In any case, olive oil is a very important part of the Greek economy, as is wine; the locally-grown grapes are superb, and we purchased some to enjoy after dinner that night.
Yesterday was the Sabbath, and I attended services at the Pantanassa Church in Monastiraki. It is on account of this church that the neighbourhood is called "little monastery," because the church was called the Great Monastery in the seventeenth century. It was the first time I've been in a position to observe the Sabbath in a church since we left Paris, though I'm not sure how much good it really did me. Naturally, the services were in Greek, which I do not understand! But at least I did not have to go alone. I elected to attend that particular church because it is the church of our hosts in the boarding house, so I accompanied them, and both Tom and Skinner went as well. I think we three were all a bit amused by our inability to follow the service.
It is nearly time to depart for the train station. We are travelling north, and the journey is expected to take a few days; it is more than one hundred miles to the coastal city of Lamia. From there we will continue north to Larisa, the capital of Thessaly, and then to Katerini. Rather than delay ourselves by leaving the train and journeying to Mount Olympus itself (which is not near any of the towns with rail stations), we will simply content ourselves with the view from the distance. It is a massive feature of the landscape, visible for many miles in all directions -- and as Skinner pointed out, the ancient gods are "probably not home." Our rail trip will continue to the northeast and conclude in the city of Thessaloniki, located on an inlet of the Aegean Sea. We will most likely relax in that city for a day or so before making the return trip to Piraievs to meet the Nautilus.
30 October 1899
We are in the rail car, still making our way north. We have left Larisa and will shortly be arriving in Katerini, from which we should have a very good view of Mount Olympus -- if the weather cooperates, that is. We are now in Greece's wet season, and there has been a great deal of rain. As a result, our ability to observe the countryside through which we are passing has been somewhat hindered.
Even if the weather is agreeable, there is a chance we may not get to see the mountain after all. Mount Olympus is frequently shrouded by low-hanging clouds and mist, giving the ancient Greeks their belief that it extended all the way up to the heavens. They believed that Zeus, the king of the gods, made his home at the pinnacle, as did the other eleven major gods and goddesses of their pantheon. There they feasted on nectar and ambrosia, the foods which enabled them to retain their immortality, and enjoyed music and drama by the Muses and Graces.
To amuse us in spite of the weather, Henry has continued reading to us all from his volume of Homer; indeed, he should be reaching the end of the book today. I have brought along the handkerchiefs I purchased in Egypt and have begun to monogram them for Skinner's Christmas gift. There are six, so I am embroidering the initials "R. S." in six different colours -- one each of red, blue, green, gold, black, and brown. It has been difficult to actually do this without letting him see what I am doing, since he is never far away, but half the fun of giving a gift is maintaining secrecy from the recipient. So I'm doing my best.
Only two of Nemo's men remain with us; the rest have returned to the submarine to notify the first mate of our intentions. It is, therefore, a very small and private party here, and we rather like it that way.
30 October 1899
The weather is slightly less dismal today as we approach Katerini. I think I have caught sight of Mount Olympus through the gloom, but it's hard to be entirely sure.
Fortunately, I almost don't mind, for we have had a fascinating topic of conversation to distract us. Mina and Henry have begun planning their wedding ceremony. Mina is a bride for the second time, so tradition dictates that it be an understated affair; however, her first wedding consisted of exchanging vows at the bedside of Jonathan, who was very ill. Therefore, she would like to actually have a small celebration this time, and as it will be Henry's first marriage, it seems only fair.
I suppose I had Christmas on my mind because I was working on the handkerchiefs. Then too, the holiday season is popular for weddings, because it's considered lucky. With that in mind, I proposed that the wedding take place at Christmastime, and we combine the marriage celebration with a Christmas party. I was concerned that I might offend Nemo with this suggestion, so I made it very hesitantly, but he seems to find it an interesting notion. After all, he has never observed Christmas before, and when we told him some of the traditional activities done at a Christmas party back in England, he grew more enthusiastic.
It has been decided that after we leave Greece, we will return to London to begin making preparations for the wedding and for Christmas. Henry has asked Nemo to stand as his best man, and Mina requested that I be her bridesmaid! I am both delighted and honoured. Unlike the last time I was a bridal attendant, this wedding will be nothing but joyful.
The wedding ceremony will take place on Christmas Eve, in the large meeting chamber aboard the Nautilus; Henry knows of a minister whom he believes will agree to board the submarine to perform the nuptials. We will have a gift exchange among ourselves following the marriage. The newlyweds will disembark and spend their wedding night in London, alone, then return to us the following day for dancing, games, and merriment. This, indeed, will be a Christmas to remember.
2 November 1899
Yesterday was quite a startling day.
We arrived in Thessaloniki as planned; the weather continued to be terrible. Nemo was just instructing his men with regards to hiring a carriage for us when, to our very great surprise, one arrived bearing none other than the first mate!
Jaya is Indian, like Nemo himself, but younger and beardless. He alighted from the carriage and bowed to Nemo. "The Nautilus awaits you in port, Captain," he said.
"For what purpose?" asked Nemo. He sounded bewildered, and the rest of us were exchanging glances of equal puzzlement. "It was not our intention to board here."
"I know, Captain, and I apologize if I have overstepped my authority. But we received a communication two days ago, which I believe is important enough to warrant your expedited return to the ship." A second carriage pulled up and more of his men exited; they began at once to transfer our belongings to the conveyances.
"Communication? In what form? And from whom?"
"A telegraph, sir, from a Dr. Max Draper in Germany."
I was the only one who failed to recognize the name. The others all looked no longer apprehensive, but interested. We boarded the carriages and, en route to the dock, they explained to me that Dr. Draper was one of the scientists they had liberated from Moriarty's stronghold in Mongolia the day my father died. He was a somewhat elderly gentleman, but quite brilliant in his scientific pursuits.
We returned to the Nautilus and immediately made our way to the conference chamber, which is adjacent to the ship's telegraph office. The officer in charge of operating the equipment bowed and presented a printed sheet to Nemo, who took it and studied the contents. I watched his eyes grow large with astonishment.
"This is most unexpected," he said softly.
"What does it say?" asked Henry.
"Dr. Draper sends us all his good wishes and sincere thanks for our rescue efforts of several weeks back," Nemo read. "He and the other scientists have had a discussion, and they have information they think may be of use to us." He paused, as though he wasn't sure whether he should tell us the rest. "It would seem," he said finally, "that they still have the formula for the invisibility serum, the one they were forced to study and work out in the laboratory in Mongolia. He is aware that one of our company is invisible, and if we desire the formula for the original serum, we may be able to use it to create an antidote."
To a man, we all turned to look at Skinner. "Wait a minute," he said slowly. "You mean they've got the goods on how Griffin made the stuff? I might be able to turn back?" He pulled a chair away from the table and sat down heavily.
"If you wish, I can contact Dr. Draper right away and get the information," said Nemo.
"Do you still want to be visible, Skinner?" asked Mina.
He didn't answer. He took off his dark glasses, revealing the blank holes where his eyes reside in his head, and rubbed his face in a gesture of world-weariness. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at each of us in turn; his eyes met mine last of all.
"I don't know," he said quietly. He looked serious, which is so rare for him. Abruptly he got up and left the room.
We all looked at each other.
"I thought he wanted this," said Tom.
"Think about it, Tom," said Henry. "Skinner becomes visible, and suddenly he's an ordinary man again. His invisibility is both a blessing and a curse, and if he gives it up, he's giving up a huge part of his identity." Of all the men in the world, I knew that Henry could probably best understand what Skinner was feeling at that moment, so I believed his observation to be true.
We stood there in silence for a moment. Finally, since no one else seemed inclined to do anything, I said, "I'm going to go find him."
"Assuming you can see him," said Mina.
"Assuming I can see him," I agreed. "I don't think he ought to be alone right now."
Finding an invisible man in the world's largest submarine makes looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack look like child's play. He was not in his own quarters, nor the library. At length I inquired with some of the officers as to whether they had encountered Mr. Skinner, and one was finally able to tell me he'd gone up on the deck.
He stood at the railing, staring at the sea. It was still raining, of course, and the greasepaint was more or less melting off of his face. The sky was terrible, and the waters of the Aegean looked dangerous. I could hear a rumble of thunder in the distance.
I stepped onto the deck and closed the door; immediately my clothes began to dampen and stick to my skin. He heard me walking across the deck and turned. "Blimey, Bess, what do you think you're doing? You'll catch your death up here!" He shrugged off his leather duster and wrapped it around my shoulders, his own clothing at once beginning to saturate.
"Are you all right?" I asked him. I had to raise my voice; the submarine had started to move.
"Yeah, but you won't be if you stay out here."
"Then come back inside with me." It thundered again.
"I need to think."
"And you can't think where it's dry?"
"I just needed to be alone." He glanced at me meaningfully, but I wasn't having it. I may not be an Extraordinary Gentleman, but I'm extraordinarily stubborn when circumstances warrant.
"I don't think you should be alone right now."
"Why not?"
"Rodney, if it were me, would you have let me come up here alone?"
I had him there, and he knew it. He exhaled noisily. "No."
"Thank you. Now let's both go in before we catch pneumonia. I'll make us some tea."
Reluctantly, he followed me back down the ladder. We managed to avoid being spotted as we made our way through the submarine to my quarters, where I gave him a towel and a dressing-gown. "Not the most flattering thing for you to wear," I admitted, "but it's the most manly one I have. Go behind that screen over there and get out of your clothes."
"I've often dreamed of women ordering me to get out of my clothes," he said saucily, "but never like this." I ignored him -- when he's being particularly, well, Skinnerish, it's the only thing to do -- and set to work with dried ginger. Nemo has provided me with a small burner, not unlike the one Mina uses to heat chemicals, and I used it to boil some water.
By the time Skinner emerged from behind the screen, I was steeping the dried ginger in the teapot. I was not prepared for how ridiculous he looked; with the greasepaint washed away, my dressing-gown looked as though it were walking around entirely on its own, and I could not stop laughing for a minute or two.
"What? Don't I look fashionable?" he asked.
"Oh, very." I poured a cup of tea and pushed it toward him. Sitting down, I poured a second cup for myself and said, "Now, why on earth did you go outside?"
"Couldn't stay there, could I, with you lot looking at me." He took a sip of tea, and I stared as the liquid slid down his invisible throat.
"Didn't you once tell me that the reason you joined the League in the first place was because they promised you a cure?"
"Yeah," he admitted. "But I didn't think I'd be staying on after we saved the world, you know. Thought it'd be goodbye and good riddance to old Rodney Skinner."
I had my cup halfway to my lips when something occurred to me. "Are you concerned about staying with the League if you take the cure?"
He didn't answer. I took that to mean yes.
"Oh, but they wouldn't ask you to leave," I said earnestly. "You're -- you're one of the League. You're a part of the team." He didn't seem to be looking at me, so I pressed on. "You're a part of this family."
"Family?" He gave a funny laugh. Then he hesitated. "I guess you could call it that, couldn't you." It wasn't a question. We drank our tea in companionable silence for a moment.
"What do you think I should do?" he asked finally.
I admit I was taken aback by the question. I would have expected him to ask Henry, or perhaps Mina -- would they accept a cure for their unusual conditions, if given the chance? I could hardly be said to be an expert on much of anything. I sipped at my tea, considering.
"I can't say what I would do in your situation," I conceded. "But speaking as your friend...I think you should do whatever will make you happy."
He chuckled. "Wisdom for the ages, Bessie." He drained his cup. "Not bad," he added, indicating the tea. He stood up, so I did the same. I removed the duster, and he removed the dressing-gown, and we traded; he took his sodden clothing from where he had draped it over the changing screen.
"Thanks for the tea and sympathy," he quipped. As I watched, my hand was lifted from my side and raised to a pair of invisible lips in that familiar gesture of mock chivalry.
"Any time."