"Such a strange stillness this is," Captain Nemo reflected aloud. He stood in the lounge of his magnificent ship, the Nautilus, in the company of three of his colleagues: Ms. Mina Harker, a widow chemist sometimes prone to vampiric behavior; Dr. Henry Jekyll, a reclusive medical doctor with a beastly alter-ego; and Thomas Sawyer, a young agent of the American Secret Service who was unusually handy with a rifle. Together with an absent fifth member, these unique individuals made up the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.
The said fifth member was the Invisible Man, Rodney Skinner. No one was quite sure where he'd run off to, but neither did any of them mind not knowing, for they were in the habit of leaving him to his business.
Yes, even among such remarkable persons the role of the outcast had to be filled, and Mr. Skinner fit the bill quite well. Not to say that the others disliked or shunned him – indeed, he and Tom, being the two youngest of the League, had taken on the role of brothers with incredible ease. But the other members still found some of Skinner's qualities somewhat perplexing. He certainly lacked the reserve of the other four, though he never ceased to remain a gentleman. And, though none of the others would ever say so aloud in case Skinner should hear and take offense, they couldn't help thinking that as odd as they all were, their eccentricity was not immediately obvious. Here was where Skinner differed most. When his face could be seen at all, it was covered in stark white paint…hardly a formula for blending easily with regular society.
These were the general thoughts and feelings circulating about the room while, little did they know, their subject was embarking on the adventure of his lifetime.
Rodney Skinner sat in the darkened house of the Apollo Theater, waiting impatiently for the play to begin. The sooner it begins, the sooner it's over, he thought. He had never had any particular desire to see a play, but everyone back on the ship had been so incredibly dull that evening that he'd been compelled to seek entertainment elsewhere. He had bought a ticket to the performance on a sudden whim and was now beginning to regret his decision. Ah, well, perhaps it would turn out to be amusing yet. He was here, he might as well enjoy himself.
He flipped open his programme and tried to make it out as best he could in the dark. At last, the curtain went up. Since he thought he'd bought a ticket to a comedy, he was quite surprised to see the curtain open on a man performing a passionately angry monologue. Surprised, but not all together displeased. As much as he hated to admit it even to himself, Skinner found his interest being drawn in.
After the monologue, there came the doleful sound of a woman crying from somewhere in the wings, and then there appeared on the stage a young lady who caught Skinner's attention almost at once. He flipped through his programme again to find out her name.
Emily Leigh, formerly of the corps de ballet of the Apollo Theater's Opera Company. She performs tonight in her first lead role.
Skinner looked back up at the stage, where Miss Leigh had begun to lament for someone or other. Skinner was unabashedly fascinated, both by the performance and the performer. He resolved to get a chance to speak to this Miss Emily Leigh directly after the performance.
"Excuse me, sir, can you tell me where Oi moight foind Miss Emily Leigh?" Skinner asked yet another stagehand, none of whom seemed to know just where the dressing rooms were located, judging from the confused answers he'd been getting.
"Yeh, sure," said the man. "You just go that way an' taike a left into the first hallway. Miss Leigh's room will be on the left."
Skinner thanked the man and walked away. His directions turned out to be correct, for he found himself at Miss Leigh's door in no time at all. Once there, he realized he probably ought to have brought a flower or something of the sort, but having nothing handy, he would have to do without. He knocked and waited for an answer. The door was opened by a young woman still in costume. She looked at him for a moment, startled by his strange appearance, and then called back into the room in French. A chorus of female voices answered, also in French. Skinner, who spoke little French, stood there feeling very awkward.
"For goodness sake, let's not torment him!" came a voice, finally speaking a language Skinner could understand. "Let him in, Chloe."
"Comment bizarre," the girl mumbled to herself, giggling as she moved aside.
"Uh…merci," said Skinner as he entered. The girl smiled and shut the door behind him.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said a voice as he entered. "We have always been taught to be wary of strangers."
Skinner looked around the room for the speaker and found himself lost in a multitude of actresses, all still in costume.
"Do Oi 'ave the roight room?" he asked uncertainly. "Oi'm lookin' for Miss Emily Leigh."
"Yes, sir, you have," said Miss Leigh, standing up so that he could see her. "I am Miss Emily Leigh."
She turned to the others and said a few words in French, which sent them all out the door, laughing merrily.
"I beg your pardon again," said Miss Leigh. "Some of them don't speak English very well, but all of us speak French, so we speak it amongst ourselves to make it easier for them."
"Quite all roight," said Skinner. "Oi apologoize for moy sudden appearance. Allow me to introduce moyself."
Miss Leigh waited expectantly, and Skinner realized that if he gave her his real name it could put them both in danger.
"Well?" said Miss Leigh, looking amused.
"John…Smith," said Skinner, bowing. "Oi'm John Smith."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," said Miss Leigh. "I'm Emily Leigh."
"Your performance wos wonderful," said Skinner. "Oi've neva been to a play before, an' Oi've certainly 'ad a good first impression."
"I'm flattered, Mr. Smith," said Miss Leigh, blushing. "It all happened so suddenly that I'm still a little dazed. I feel as though it couldn't really be happening to me."
She looked up at him with a smile, but something about her look seemed unusual. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"You probably read in the programme that I was formerly in the corps de ballet," said Miss Leigh.
"Er…yes," said Skinner, who was still pondering over the strange look. "Oi did read that."
"Have you ever seen ballet before?" asked Miss Leigh.
Suddenly, it hit him. The way she looked at him seemed strange because she didn't really look at him. Was she simply too timid to look him in the eye? Was it meant as a gesture of respect?
"No, Oi 'aven't," he said, trying to make his tone more gentle so that she wouldn't feel intimidated by him. "Do you still dance?"
"Only on my own," said Miss Leigh. "I've not been able to dance with the corps since my accident."
"Accident?" Skinner asked. Then he came to a full realization of the reason why she wouldn't look at him.
She was blind.
"Oi'm…Oi'm dreadfully sorry," he stammered.
She was blind. That meant that she couldn't see him. She didn't know how strange he looked. For all she knew, he was a regular man. To be seen as a normal human being after so many years as The Invisible Man was quite staggering for Skinner.
"It isn't your fault." Miss Leigh laughed. "It happened some time ago and I've become used to it. Won't you take a seat?"
"Oi don't intend to stay long," said Skinner politely. "Oi've got some friends waitin' on me. But may Oi have your permission to bring them to your performance tomorrow an' introduce them to you?"
"Certainly," said Miss Leigh. "I'll look forward to meeting you again, Mr. Smith."
Skinner thought to himself as he walked back to the dock. He found that everything looked a bit different since his entering the theater and he began to wonder why. Was it because the light of the evening sun was casting a strange glow over everything? Maybe. Whatever it was, Skinner decided that he enjoyed it.
"Can I take your hat, sir?" asked one of the crewmembers as Skinner boarded the Nautilus. All of the crew aboard the ship had learned not to ask Skinner for his coat.
"Thanks, but Oi think Oi'll keep it tonoight, Sanjeev," said Skinner, who knew most of the crewmembers by name. He was well liked and considered a friend among them.
"As you like, sir," said Sanjeev. "May I ask where you've been? The others have been wondering."
"Oi've been to heaven an' back, Sanjeev," said Skinner with a laugh.
"That's quite a long way, sir," said Sanjeev, going along with Skinner's jest.
"You'd betta believe it," said Skinner. "But it's such an enjoyable trip."
Sanjeev laughed as he walked away down the hall. Skinner headed for the lounge to see if the others were there. They were, but he decided to have a little fun and not say anything just yet. He strode in the door, greeted them, and picked up a book without another word.
Tom watched Skinner out of the corner of his eye for a while, uncertain of whether or not to ask where he'd been. He didn't want to seem invasive. But then again, it was an innocent enough question. What could be the harm in it?
"Well," he said at long last. "Where were you?"
Skinner looked up at him and smiled. "Out," he said in simply.
"I think I knew that," said Tom.
"Woy'd you ask, then?" said Skinner.
"Skinner!" Mina exclaimed.
"Wot?" said Skinner innocently.
"Answer the question and give us some peace!" said Mina irately.
"Oi thought Oi already did," said Skinner. Mina glared at him.
"Okay, if that's how you're gonna be," said Tom smugly. "What were you doing while you were out?"
Skinner grinned. "Oi wos walkin'."
"Where'd you walk to?"
"A buildin'."
"What was inside?"
"People."
"What were the people doing?"
"Sittin'."
"Rodney Skinner!" Mina exclaimed. "If you do not stop that this instant you'll be my next laboratory experiment!"
"Yes ma'am," said Skinner.
There were a few moments of silence.
"So…where were you?" Tom asked again. Skinner laughed as Mina gave Tom an incredulous look.
"If you must know, Oi wos at the Apollo Theatre," Skinner finally confessed.
"The theatre?" asked Jekyll, speaking for the first time that evening. "Come, do be serious."
"Oi'm completely serious," said Skinner. "An' you'll neva guess wot Oi saw there."
"Actors?" said Tom. Mina gave him a look.
"Well…yes," said Skinner. "But mostly Oi saw Emily."
"Emily?" Tom asked. "Who's Emily?"
"She's the loveliest actress this soide o' the Pacific," said Skinner. The other League members looked at each other. What had gotten into him?
"Have you been drinking, Mr. Skinner?" Mina asked.
"Oi most certainly 'ave not," said Skinner.
"Perhaps he's raving," Jekyll suggested.
"Look 'ere!" Skinner exclaimed, looking offended. "Oi'm not drunk an' Oi'm not sick! Oi'm jus' foine. If any o' you 'ad been through wot Oi 'ave tonoight, you'd be excoited, too."
Suddenly, Tom began to laugh.
"Wot's so funny?" Skinner asked, irritated.
"I know what's wrong with him!" Tom declared.
"Well, do tell us before he drives us all mad with his raving," said Mina.
"Oi'm not sick!" Skinner insisted.
"Oh, yes you are!" said Tom. "Lovesick!"
Now, it must be said that if Skinner and Tom acted like brothers, that included the occasional brotherly quarrels. The conversation seemed to be taking a turn toward one of them as Skinner crossed his arms and looked at Tom darkly.
"And that, my friend, is the best thing you could've done to make me absolutely certain of it," said Tom. Skinner gave him an even darker look.
"Be quiet, you!" he growled.
"Aw, come on, Skinner," said Tom good-naturedly. "Being smitten's nothing to get embarrassed about."
"Oi am not embarrassed," said Skinner, calming down all at once. "Oi jus' prefer not ta 'ave moy personal business blasted all ova creation."
For the first time that evening, Mina looked amused.
"I suppose you'll be a regular at the theatre, then?" Jekyll inquired.
"Oi couldn't say," said Skinner. "But Oi will be there tamorrow evenin', if anyone cares ta join me."
As Emily Leigh got herself ready for bed that night, she found her thoughts wandering back to the strange gentleman who had visited her. She didn't know why she thought of him as strange after just one meeting, but somehow it seemed to fit. However, even though he might be strange, it didn't follow that he was necessarily unpleasant.
Emily smiled to herself as she brushed her long hair. No, there was nothing unpleasant about the gentleman. Everything about him was engaging, from his agreeable conversation to his lively accent. How she wished she could have known what he looked like! Perhaps she would get one of the other actresses to tell her in the morning. For now, she would have to be content with imagining him for herself. She thought him to be of average height and slender build, with brown hair and green eyes, as bright and cheerful as his Cockney brogue. An all-together pleasant image, she reflected.
She slipped her nightgown over her head as she tried to think of his name. He had told her…Smith, was it? Yes, John Smith. It seemed quite an ordinary name for such an interesting man. She blew out her candle and got into bed, and as she closed her eyes she had the sound of Mr. Smith's lilt lulling her to sleep.
