Phillips Harbour.
October 18, 1868. Sunday morning.
A weary and feverish Caliban waits on the Babbage for his master to return. The chimpanzee has been put to bed in his master's own bunk. But despite his tired state and the comfort of his surroundings, he finds himself unable to sleep. Whether grom the pain from his injuries or some other factor, he tosses and turns instead. As he tries to make himself comfy, he hears a faint tapping at the porthole. A little nightengale meets his eye, cocking her head curiously.
"Ook," says the ape as he groans and gets up to open the porthole. Morning, Lei! I think it's still morning...
Oh yes, still morning. Mistress is at that once-every-seven-days-building. Humans make no sense, why make a big builing only to use for a few hours out of many? She hops in to settle on the window ledge, rustling her wings. How are you?
The ape sits himself on the bed and rubs at his neck worriedly. Somethin's not right about that wound that wolf gave me. Gotta feeling it's witched somehow. Master went to the church to see if he could get Reverend Hale to come on by and have a look.
You think so? That sounds bad. Xiao Chen didn't think it was magic. But maybe you Westerners have magics we don't, Lei says, tilting her head to look at the chimp's neck. She flutters to his far side to get a different vantage on it.
Church, Caliban reflects groggily, rambling. It's that thing where humans would kill themselves if they had to go every day, an' they don't feel right if they don't go once a week. Maybe it's like the Game, only happens on special occasions. Doesn't work right if you try to do it other times. He loosens the dressings so the bird can have a look, and out of morbid curiousity on his own part.
It made you molt! Lei chirps, alarmed. Is it going to spread? Are you going to be bald all over? I hope your new fur is comfortable when it comes back!
Nah, the doc shaved some of the fur so he could stitch it properly, the ape ooks. He gropes about the cabin for a mirror so he can observe for himself, nevertheless.
Oh. Lei hops about. Was your skin always red and bumpy like that beneath the fur? One spot in particular is badly swollen, mottled red and white, so inflammed the stitching has disappeared beneath swelling tissues. But many of the other stitched-up spots are also swollen and red, if less dramatically so.
The ape pulls a face and desists looking. No, that's not good. Could be gettin' infected or somethin' like that. But if it came from that big wolf, an' that wolf was really a werewolf, well, I don't fancy bein' a night type in quite that way, lemme tell ya! He pats the dressing back into place. But hey, the boss an' Rev. Hale should be able to sort it out. What brings ya here?
Just checking up on you. Xiao Chen wanted to make sure you're recovering. Lei flutters to her perch on the windowsill again, then looks back at the chimp. I'm not sure what I should tell her, now that I've seen you. Is there anything I can get for you?
Caliban wrinkles his nose in thought. Hrr... If you feel like scoutin', seems to me like we might need to know where we can lay hands on that wolf. Hair of the dog and all that. He adds worriedly, Lei, the forest folk in that part call her the protector. They're not likely to help if they think you're workin' against her.
The nightengale glances out the window, then back to Caliban. They don't all call her protector. Some will not trust a wolf, she chirps. It looks like your master is coming home now, and with company. I'll ... see what I can do. Walk carefully, my friend.
Fly safe, Lei, the monkey says with a smile. He feels heart-lightened by the bird's visit somehow.
Not long after the nightengale wings away, Caliban hears human feet descending the stair-ladder to the cabins. Herbert returns, followed by the stern and dignified Rev. Hale.
"How are you feeling, Caliban?" Herbert asks, looking his friend over for signs of improvement or decline.
Caliban ooks at his boss, a little woozy by the way he's getting around the cabin. He appears to have been putting together a cold lunch of hardboiled eggs, cold cuts, bread, and apples, sufficient for three or four, rather than risk using the fire.
"I shall have to fetch a liver for supper, to help restore Caliban's lost blood," Herbert says, then blinks and asks Hale, "I hadn't thought to ask earlier.. but do you have Prayer with you to act as a translator?"
"Well enough to think of food," Hale says. "That's a good sign. Here, have a seat, Caliban." He glances to Herbert with a wry smile, shaking his head. "No, and I was just wishing I had, too. But he's on business at the moment."
Herbert holds Caliban's seat for him. "I'll do my best to help then," he notes.
The ape sets out the hardboiled eggs with a little saltcellar, and the platter with cheese and cold cuts and apples. Sliced bread sits to the side, thick crusty loaves. "Ook, ook," the ape observes with a wan smile. Once his hands are free, he gestures to the window and mimics wings flapping, then holds his hands close together, to suggest a small bird.
"Lei?" Herbert asks the ape.
A nod and a wider smile.
Hale takes a chair opposite the ape, but at Caliban's motions he pauses, glancing to Herbert for enlightenment. "Lei?"
Another nod as the ape sits. He looks ready to eat, but waits at the table with an anxious look at the Reverend.
"The Companion of Miss Pau, one of our fellow Closers," Herbert explains, then settles down to wait for the Reverend to say grace.
Rev. Hale raises both eyebrows. "Miss Pau? Who told you she is a Closer?"
"Well.. she did, actually," Shaft admits. "On the eve of the Death of the Moon."
"She did?" Hale stares at Shaft. "Are you quite sure?"
Herbert blinks nervously, and says, "Yes, and also that St. John was an Opener. This was after I made my offer of sanctuary aboard the Babbage for that night, should St. John try to strike.."
Caliban looks up at the two humans with brows furrowed in worry.
"Well. That's .... interesting." Hale steeples his fingers, tapping them together with a hard look in his eyes.
Shaft looks to Caliban, then back to Hale. "I do not have the means of divining a Player's standing, I am afraid. Have you come to a different conclusion through such methods, Reverend?"
"Yes. I'm afraid I have, Mr. Shaft. I am ... or was ... reasonably assured that Miss Pau was an Opener. I am certain that she is a witch." Hale stares into the middle distance. "But if she told you she was a Closer ... it makes no sense. A Player cannot lie about his position in the Game. It is one of the first Rules."
Herbert thinks hard. Did Pau state her position, or merely that she was opposed to St. John? Could he have simply assumed?
The monkey's belly rumbles faintly, but his worried look doesn't seem to be from hunger entirely. "Ook, ook ook, eek," he says, making some gestures. First the tiny wings flapping, two fingertips laced together, then a two-legged hand standing next to the bird. He points at this hand with his free hand, then pretends to be patting himself on the head.
"Miss Pau has been very kind and helpful to us," Herbert agrees, nodding to Caliban. "She was the one who warned me about St. John in the first place. But perhaps we should focus on more immediate matters first."
"Perhaps. But I must caution you against trusting in that woman, Mr. Shaft. Perhaps she seems harmless now, but Openers are an unholy lot. Unless I am much mistaken, her true colors will show ere the month is over, and to our detriment if we do not act first to defend ourselves." Rev. Hale shakes his head. "But I am keeping your battle-injured friend from his food, which is hardly fitting."
"If you would do us the honor of saying Grace, Reverend?" Shaft asks.
Caliban has the grace to look a little abashed, but smiles relievedly.
"Of course." The reverend bows his head, offering a brief but heartfelt thanks to the Lord for the meal before them.
The ape clasps his hands in silent prayer.
After they've all eaten, Hale turns to the examine the chimpanzee. "By your leave?" He looks from Herbert to caliban and back again, placing his right hand to the cross around his neck.
"By all means, sir," Herbert says, nodding.
The chimpanzee bends his neck and loosens the dressing. "Ook!"
The priest touches Caliban's forehead with his left hand and shakes his head quietly. He shifts to remove the bandages, and lets out his breath in a hiss at the sight of the injuries. With a very light touch, his fingertips graze over the swollen, mottled skin.
A tiny wince, but Caliban takes it stolidly.
Murmuring a prayer under his breath, Hale produces a small flask from one pocket and unstoppers it. He pours a little of what looks like water into his right hand, and sprinkles it over Caliban's face, then over the injuries on his neck.
The ape looks a little soothed by the coolness of the water, but nothing else.
Shaft forces himself to remain seated. The cabin really doesn't have the room for pacing about nervously.
Caliban closes his eyes in prayer, perhaps hoping to help the healing somehow.
Hale pulls the cross and its chain over his head, and places the cross against Caliban's chest, covering it with his right hand. He nods approval of Caliban's closed eyes and expression. "Pray with me," he instructs Shaft, and then begins to pray over the chimpanzee. His voice is deep, firm and forceful, without being too loud for the enclosed space.
Herbert kneels down in the cramped space, and closes his eyes in prayer. He thinks about how good and deserving Caliban is, and how important the Companion is to his own well being.
The ape continues praying silently, raising his hands over the cross.
The priest has considerable endurance for this task; Herbert finds his knees aching and himself lightheaded as Hale continues to recite steadily. After what seems like forever, the older man finally winds down. He rises from his knees, making the sign of the cross over Caliban. "Rest now," he says, then motions to Herbert to speak with him outside.
Herbert stands up a bit shakily, and pats at his shins to wake them up. "Get some rest, Cal, I'll clean up later," he tells Caliban, before following Hale up to the deck.
Caliban willingly settles into the bed to try and catch what rest he can. His worried-looking eyes follow his master and the Reverend out.
Outside the cabin, Hale speaks quietly, but not so low that the chimp can't catch his words. "Those injuries don't look good. Did you take him to see the doctor?"
"Yes," Herbert says. "I was going to see the doctor about checking on him again, but Caliban wanted to see you first."
The priest nods. "Wise of him. I'll come back tomorrow to see how he is. But I don't think it would do any harm for you to bring the doctor to check on him again, too."
"Is there.. anything to worry about beyond his physical condition?" Herbert asks cautiously.
The chimpanzee closes his eyes, only half listening to the distant words.
Hale hesitates. "I don't know," he admits. "I've seen cases of possession before, and I can assure you he's not possessed, at least. But I've never dealt with the victim of a werewolf bite, if that's what's happened here. The last time, the Beast didn't let any of her victims live."
"Can you tell me more about St. John's abilities and how we could defend against them?" Herbert asks hopefully.
"She is fast, deadly, powerful, and silent. She hunts at night; none of her attacks in the last Game were during the day. Sleep behind barred doors; use wards if you have them. If you do face her, be forceful and determined. Don't run from her: she can outrun you and she'll gut you from behind. Show her no fear. Most of all, be armed. Do you have a gun?" Hale asks.
"I have a revolver, and we unmoor the Babbage at night and sleep well out into the harbor," Shaft notes. "I'm afraid my defenses are all merely physical in nature, though. Does she always attack as the Beast, and never with spells?"
Hale nods. "Always as the Beast, to my knowledge. But I believe she has some knowledge of magic -- she may know the spell for divining intent, for example. She may have learned more since '49. Unmooring the boat ... are you sleeping at the same location in the harbor each night?"
"Of course," Herbert says. "Doing otherwise would only complicate things. I just hope the Beast is averse to swimming."
"That's good to hear. I don't know if she minds swimming or not. I do know that she fears and hates science and the products of science. This boat of yours would be an abomination to her. I'm not sure if that would make her more prone to avoid it, or more determined to destroy it, however." Hale's mouth sets in a grim line.
"Well, she was certainly determined to destroy my balloon," Herbert notes with a sigh. "But at least she focused her anger upon it and not entirely on Caliban."
"A sign of her handiwork indeed. The balloon is a man-made thing, while Caliban is a product of Nature. I am not sure what became of the Companions of those she slew in the last Game, but it may be that she permitted them to live, too. Whatever consolation that is." Hale sighs.
"At the end of the last Game.. did she appear at the Bonfire as the Beast as well?" Herbert asks, looking thoughtful.
"On the night of the Banefire, she wore a woman's shape. Not that it made any difference." Hale settles his cross around his neck again, shifting the position of the pendant.
"Actually, I think it may make a difference," Herbert suggests. "An animal - a normal animal - would never be willing to approach a fire like that. When St. John is a beast, perhaps she has the same limitations as a beast? Instincts that can be played upon that overcome whatever rational thought she has. I've seen how she responded to a trappers snare in the woods - it was torn apart and mangled. She could have just turned human and opened it with less effort though."
"It's possible," Hale allows. "But I would not give her too much credit her level of control in human form, either. Whatever she may look like outwardly, the Beast is her true face."
"Do you remember a former Player called The Necromancer?" Shaft asks next.
Hale's expression closes. "Yes, I do."
"Pau told me that St. John killed him," Herbert relays. "St. John arrived here in his carriage as well, which I'm sure you recall nearly running our own off the road. Was the Necromancer able to transform men into beasts, by any chance?"
"No. The Necromancer had a number of accursed powers, but not that one," Hale says. His expression turns thoughtful, considering the rest of Herbert's words.
"She was whipping the deer that pulled that wagon pretty hard," Shaft says. "Not what you'd expect from someone who loves animals and Nature, unless those animals were not natural.." He then quickly describes the unidentified body they found washed up onto the lighthouse rocks, and of Caliban's vision of the man's apparent death - as a stag being hunted down by wolves - and of the lash wounds on his back.
At the description, Hale winces and crosses himself. "Nothing like that occured at the last Game, I assure you. If such an act is within St. John's power -- and it is a power I do not think she would hesitate to exercise, if she had it -- then it is a power recently acquired."
"I think she may have lost the means when the coach crashed over the bridge the night of the storm," Shaft says. "There is also the matter of the White Hart, which may have been at the bridge, and also may have been following her the night of the attack on Caliban and the balloon. I cannot determine if it is her foe or ally."
"Her ally," Hale says, promptly. "He was with her at the last Game."
"The Hart is her true Companion then?" Herbert asks.
Hale nods. "Yes."
"I also received the impression that the Mikkelsen siblings are hunting either the Hart or the Beast," Herbert comments. "Any thoughts on that?"
"I'm afraid not. I've not been able to determine the Mikkelsens' role in the Game. If they have a role. I've not seen a Companion for either of them," Hale answers.
"They joined in the search for you, and even found the correct hill," Shaft notes. "I have not seen either of them for some time, not since the brother advised me to not interfere in their hunt, more or less."
Hale scratches at the back of his neck. "Did he? Hmmm. That's interesting. To be honest, the sister worries more than her brother. She strikes me as the more ... devious of the two. He wears his every thought on his face. It hardly matters that his English is poor."
"I have not really spoken to the sister," Shaft admits. "I find women like that a bit intimidating, frankly."
A chuckle from the reverend. "Can't say I blame you."
"There is also Trouble," Herbert mentions. "I'm sure you've made his acquaintance?"
"Trouble?" Hale frowns, not making a connection with the name.
"The dog, or half-wolf," Herbert says. "It was mentioned as being seen in conjunction with your 'disappearance'."
"Dog ... oh. Oh, yes." Hale gives a bark of laughter. "Trouble indeed! He's well-named." His smile fades as he considers something. "Though, on reflection, I imagine I'd've had less trouble overall if I'd've let him give me more. He tried to stop me."
"I suspect Trouble may be an interested bystander in this," Shaft explains. "His 'mistress', of sorts, is the ghost of a young girl, although he supposedly has a human master - or at least one of opportunity."
"A ghost girl? I see your point. Surely a ghost cannot be a Player." He thinks on this a moment longer, then shakes his head. "I've not been able to figure out what that yellow dog is up to, either, or to verify that he and that man at the farm are true allies. Perhaps with a name, I'll get farther. I'll admit it's tempting to hope that he's not connected with the Game."
"The ghost did not reveal her name to me, but did show that she can wield quite a bit of power should she feel the need," Herbert says, shivering suddenly. He glances back into the cabin, then says, "Well, thank you for your aid, Reverend. If you need anything from me, you need only ask. But now I think I should go see about bringing the doctor around. And.. I'll try resolve the confusion about Miss Pau, as well. Either I have been tricked, or someone is capable of distorting a divination."
"I'm not sure which would be worse," Hale mutters. "It'd be easier for all of us if she were a Closer, to be honest." He sighs and offers Shaft a nod. "You're welcome, and good day to you. I hope tomorrow finds your Companion better; I'll stop in to check on him then."
The chimpanzee appears to be sleeping soundly at the moment.
As Caliban dozes, his master returns with the doctor and a young woman in tow.
Very quietly, Shaft asks the others, "Is there anything you need? Hot water, tea.. soap?"
The chimpanzee's snores are the first signs that the ape has actually managed to find some sleep. That and that he has managed to pull the blankets into a confused, sweaty-looking curl.
Dr. Greene pulls a stool up next to the bunk and puts his bag before him. He turns to unwrap the bandages, tsking. "Has he been pulling at this?" he asks.
"Ah, no, that would be my fault," Herbert says. "I loosened them to check his progress before coming to see you.."
Bernice follows along, her large green eyes even wider than usual. Though she doesn't seem unfamiliar with ships, she does seem impressed. At the englishman's words, she steps closer to the sleeping primate, her voice a low and soothing murmur. "A basin of clean water would be good," agrees the vet, carrying the black doctor's bag she retrieved to the bunkside. "I'm hesitant to disturb him if he's resting comfortably, but I heard he was very calm when Dr. Greene was treating him."
The doctor makes a noncommital noise at Mr. Shaft. Underneath the bandages, the chimpanzee's neck has been shaved clear of all fur. Red welts line either sides of his neck and some reach up along his head. Most have been obviously sutured closed, but a couple are so swollen that the skin is starting to whiten in spots, and the sutures are hidden by swelling flesh.
"Oh, he is very gentle," Herbert assures, as he leaves to fetch the water.
The doctor scratches his head, looking at the injuries. "What do you think, Miss Townes? It's uglier than yesterday, but that's to be expected. I'm not sure if lancing would help or not."
The chimp whimpers a little as he's examined, but makes no hostile move.
The young woman's curious expression immediately turns to one of gentle concern as the bandages are drawn away. "Mm. I'm very glad you were on hand to take care of this, Dr. Greene," she says, setting her bag down nearby and opening it. "It looks like you very capably staved off the worst, that wound could have been grave. A moment for a closer look..." She draws near, her voice lowering soothingly. "Hello there, fellow. It's all right, I'm here to help."
Quietly, Herbert returns with the basin of clean water, and some fresh linen towels as well.
The chimpanzee stirs slightly and creaks an eye open just a little, warm brown. He makes tiny ooking noises up at the woman.
On closer examination, the different puncture wounds can easily be distinguished. It's definitely in the bite pattern of predator, and one that had clamped down to puncture, but had not made an effort to tear the flesh after biting. The marks suggest a long, wide muzzle.
"This is Miss Townes, Caliban," Herbert whispers, introducing the woman to the ape. "Dr. Greene's nurse and one experienced in the treatment of animals."
"Ook, eek eek," murmurs the chimpanzee, smiling up at her."
Bernice's thin brows knit together. "My goodness. You poor thing. What did this to you?" She begins rummaging through her bag, and comes up with a brown bottle, and another of clear fluid. "It looks like most of them are just fine, doctor. However, I think at least one puncture became septic. I've some cleaning solution that won't cause any bad reactions, and a bit of herbal remedy I've found to work well in purifying the humours." A short pair of suture snips come out of the black bag, along with some swabs, and she adopts that mellow voice of hers again. "Please don't get up on my account, Mr. Caliban," she murmurs. "Please hold still.. the solution will sting faintly, but it will clean the wound."
The ape nods very slightly.
Herbert smiles in relief, as it sounds like Miss Townes knows exactly what she's doing, and has probably dealt with farm animals that have been attacked by predators.
Dr. Greene moves backwards to give his nurse room to work, apparently agreeing with her assessment and prefering to let her handle the case. He strokes the top of Caliban's head soothingly.
Glancing to the Englishman, Dr. Greene repeats by way of reassurance, "Miss Townes has a great deal of experience with animals. I assure you she's quite competant and better suited to this task than I am. She came to me highly recommended by one of my colleagues."
The young woman works quickly and efficiently without any roughness or cutting of corners. The suture snips bite precisely even despite the swollen flesh bulging around it. Her hands are gentle, but sure of themselves, and each time she tweezes away a snipped thread it's swiftly enough that there isn't much of a sensation. The wound yawns open as its restraints fall away, but the ugliness doesn't seem to phase Miss Townes, and she quickly cleans it out with treated swabs. True to her word, it does sting a bit, but the pain quickly fades to the same background level it was at before, and by the time her nimble fingers begin darning it closed, it looks considerably more manageable than before. Both fluids she uses smell quite pungeant, but the second has a soothing effect, cooling the inflamed flesh.
"Ah, she's not from Phillip's Harbor originally then?" Shaft asks quietly.
Bernice nods as she works, puffing an errant lock of auburn hair that strays into her face. "I studied in Boston, sir."
Dr. Greene smiles. "Not many teaching colleges in Phillips Harbour, sir."
The chimpanzee does look a little more awake now, as he bites his lips.
"Studied.. ah, forgive me, Miss Townes," Shaft apologizes. "I had assumed you were a knowledgeable farm girl. I am constantly surprised by the aptitudes and ambitions of American women, I must confess."
The doctor pats the chimp's head again. "There, now. There's a good boy. Not much more to it, and we'll have you right as rain in no time."
Bernice spares a brief glance up, her hands still seeming to carrying on their work with practiced motions, and she gives the englishman a pleasant smile. "Not to worry, Mr. Shaft. I'd be the first to admit it's unusual, and I've got the rough hands to look the part." Looking back at her patient, she shares the same smile with Caliban, continuing the same process through each of the more dubious looking wounds. "Now, I'm going to give you something to drink, in a moment. It's a little bitter, but it'll keep any fever down and fight any continued infection. It may make you a little drowsy too, but I think you could use the rest." She speaks directly to the primate in a curiously straightforward manner, not the kind of voice one reserves for animals. Still, she did say she was a bit eccentric.
It doesn't take Miss Townes long to finish her work. Most of the puncture wounds she leaves alone, which seems like a good idea given that, while the drained and re-stitched ones do look less ugly than they did before, they still don't like as much like they're healing as the less serious marks do.
"Once again, I am in your debt, Dr. Greene," Herbert says, smiling. "Both for your time and for Miss Towne's silver lining amidst my Companion's dark cloud."
Caliban ooks at Miss Townes gratefully. His eyes flicker; he seems to be drifting back to sleep.
Bernice's own smile crinkles the edges of her green eyes. "I'm glad I could help," she says, so faintly it's likely only the chimp could make it out. Washing her hands in the basin, she reapplies Caliban's dressings and retrieves the medicine she'd mentioned earlier, and addresses Herbert again as she begins mixing it. "I'm glad I could help," she repeats, a little more audibly. "Please let him rest for as long as he can, and when he's ready, you can give him this mixture to drink. I added a little willow to dull the pain some."
"Thank you, Miss Townes," Herbert says, accepting the bottle. "Will it do any harm for Caliban to eat or drink anything after swallowing this?"
Dr. Greene moves away from the bunk himself, listening to the other two quietly. Caliban snores, not so quietly.
Bernice shakes her head, standing from her kneeling position by the bunk and wiping her hands again on the provided linen. "If he can take it with food, all the better. He may even prefer it mixed in with his favorite fare, as the taste can be a little bitter." She gives the peacefully sleeping chimp another look over her shoulder. "I must say, that bite is very unusual. The dentition it suggested didn't look like anything I recognized as local wildlife."
"So you didn't recognize it either, Miss Townes? I was wondering if it might be a bear -- I've enver actually seen a bear bite," Dr. Greene says.
"It is quite the mystery," Herbert says, thinking he'll get a chicken prepared for when Caliban awakens. "Until it is found, I would strongly suggest staying indoors at night."
Townes taps her lower lip with a freshly scrubbed fingertip. "Mm... no, I don't think it was a bear bite either. Broader even than that. Whatever did that had a huge maw, quite wide. I... well, this will sound a little absurd..." She shifts a little. "I haven't seen any such bites, but I understand the southern coast has alligators. I could imagine one of those leaving a similar wound, but the very thought of such a creature in Maine... well, as you say, Mr. Shaft. Staying in couldn't hurt."
Dr. Greene shivers. "Now there's a thought that hadn't occurred to me. Surely it's too cold this far north for alligators ... even if the incident did happen near the river."
"My goodness, a monster lizard?" Shaft appears to ponder, and then leads his guests out to leave Caliban undisturbed. "I would appreciate if you could check in on him again tomorrow, time permitting," he asks the healers.
"I'll see how my schedule looks." Dr. Greene sighs heavily. "I promised Mrs. Donald I'd call on her tomorrow, and that'll be at least two hours."
"Well, you must see to your regular patients, of course," Shaft says. "I'm sure Caliban will bounce back in no time."
Bernice gathers her back to be ushered along, shrugging her shoulders, looking equally at a loss. "It isn't a thought I would expect to occur, it's patently ludicrous to think an alligator could survive up here. And yet, I'm positive that bite wasn't inflicted by any wildcat, bear, or canine. I've seen plenty of those to know." She lifts a slim hand to pat her friend on the arm. "Don't worry yourself, Doctor. I'll gladly look in on him."
"Ah, thank you, Miss Townes. I don't suppose I could get you to look on Mrs. Donald in my stead, too?" he asks with a grin.
"If you come by and don't see me about, please don't hesitate to let yourself aboard, Miss Townes," Herbert offers. "Though I'll probably be in the boathouse if I'm not aboard the Babbage."
Caliban curls up into the blankets tighter. His snoring increases a notch.
Bernice stifles a giggle behind the back of her upraised hand, her eyes twinkling. "Sir, I'll take my chances with the alligator, I suspect it won't grip as hard." She turns her smile to Herbert, and performs the curtsey she forgot earlier. "Very good, Mr. Shaft. I hope you might be willing to chat a little later, I'd love to hear a little about your ship and travels."