Limbo Lodge Read Free Page A

who had been cautiously investigating the wound on Mr Multiple’s head. “Saints save us, that’s heavy! What is it made of, copper?”
    “How would I tell?” said the sailor, a tiny wizened man named Pepe. “It is my wedhoe. Keep me safe from harm.”
    “Didn’t keep poor Mr Multiple safe from harm,” snapped the doctor, frowning over the trickle of blood that ran from the unconscious lieutenant’s injured head. “Captain Sanderson, this wound is serious. The man’s skull may be cracked. His brain may be injured. He needs urgent medical attention – more than I can provide, here on this ship. Or he may very well die.”
    “Och, mercy on us! Ye don’t say so?”
    “But I do say so. There may be damage to the brain. Is there a hospital on Aratu?”
    “Ay,” said the Captain doubtfully. “There is one. But I wouldna be guessing that the level of medical skill is inco high in that place – ‘tis only a wee island after all. Should we not put back to Amboina?”
    “Five days’ sailing? No, the boy could die before we got there. There may be internal bleeding also.”
    “Och, havers!” said the Captain disgustedly. “And he was faring up to be a right decent sensible young fellow. What in the world will I ever tell Captain Hughes when we get back to Amboina? Ye think he can be saved?”
    “With luck.”
    Luck, thought Dido sadly, looking after her friend as, under Doctor Talisman’s orders, two sailors carried Multiple off to his hammock. I reckon you’re the best chance of that for him, Doctor Lucky Talisman.
    “What time do we get to Aratu, Cap?” she asked Sanderson.
    “Around dawn, Miss Twite. I have given orders to cram on all sail, as the winds are light.”
    Dido slept badly that night, curled up against a coil of rope on the foredeck. Her dreams were full of outsize pearl-snakes and sting-monkeys; also the same dream, over and over, of searching for her friend Mr Multiple in a house that belonged to her but had been occupied by other people, cruel people; the house was in a distant corner of some city, and the streets were dark and silent, and she had lost the front door key; and then when she did get into the house she knew that it was full of enemies, though she could not see them or hear them; she tiptoed up the narrow crooked stairs to the room where Mr Multiple might be sleeping, but he was not there, and she did not dare call his name aloud for fear the wrong people might hear and come after her . . .
    From this horrible dream it was a relief to wake up, sweating and shivering, to see the sea, like a black mother-of-pearl floor ahead of the ship, a belt of luminous green light on the port horizon where the sun would presently shoot up, dark blue outlines of islands all around, and one in particular, straight ahead, shaped like the head of a thistle, solid-packed with trees. Even at this distance the sound of singing and drums could be heard. And a scent, almost solid in the air, of pepper, clove, and nutmeg came wafting on the warm wind.
    “Aratu,” said Dr Talisman, nodding at the silhouette.
    “Aren’t you excited to be going back there, Doc? Must be right spooky if you haven’t been to the island since you was five years old! Will this chap you know be there, d’you reckon?”
    “Manoel Roy? I suppose he might be – if he is not playing dice at some casino in Europe.”
    Now the island seemed to leap forward at them as the dawn wind caught the sails and the sun came dazzling out of the ocean’s eastern rim. White wedges of sea broke snarling against two black claws of promontory on either side of the ship, slashing waves rolled out of the dark to cream up against slate-coloured rocks. A lighthouse slipped past them. The sound of drums grew louder and louder.
    “It looks like kind of an unchancy place,” Dido said, shivering. “Where’s the town?”
    “Straight ahead – at the far end of the harbour. There are no beaches. The island is all rock, rising straight out