course, it was too late to travel now. He advised us to go by river on the so-called ‘long ferry’, since the route overland was dangerous on account of robbers, particularly in the area around Blackheath. He talked as if he had our best interests at heart. Yet I no longer trusted him, especially when he tried to press Jack Wilson to stay on board because it would be useful to have a French speaker to help him with his business in St-Malo. I recalled our laughter on the previous evening over Jack’s French aunt. Had we been tricked into remaining on the Argo solely in order that Jonathan Case might have a translator to accompany him?
We stayed on board that night and shared a supper with Case and others. He insisted we join him, as a small recompense for the trouble we had been put to. Even so, Jack and I drank very sparingly and we extracted a promise from Colin Case — despite his rough exterior, the captain seemed a more reasonable man than his brother — that they would not depart next morning without leaving us behind. He reassured us that high tide was not due until a couple of hours after sunrise.
I must describe the supper, since it has a bearing on what happened afterwards. Food and drink were brought across the precarious planks from a Gravesend ordinary, and we ate in the great cabin, sitting on the benches and resting our elbows on the table. The food and drink were served by the lad I’d stopped on deck. Looking at him more closely, I realized that he was closer to man than lad, despite his smooth and downy features. Attending at supper apart from Jack and me there were the Case brothers and Henry Tallman, the fellow with the appearance of a puritan and the shoe buckles of a man of fashion. I’d seen no sign of cousin Thomasina and assumed she’d quit the boat at London Bridge. Nor had I glimpsed again the hooded figure seen on the aftercastle and, perhaps, below deck.
The mood of the meal was argumentative from the start. Colin Case and Henry Tallman came in from enjoying a smoke on deck and, their pipes scarcely stowed away, were met with a comment from Jonathan Case that smoking was a filthy habit. Furthermore, it was a habit that had incurred the displeasure of their sovereign. Did they not know that King James was the author of an anonymous pamphlet that had recently been circulating in London, called A Counterblast to Tobacco? Tallman yawningly indicated that he was aware of it, while Colin laughed either at his brother or at the King’s opinion or both. Dr Case took even more offence and made some pompous remark about James being well within his rights to pronounce on the bad habits of his subjects as he was the ‘physician of the body politic’.
Then there was some bad-tempered discussion between the brothers over how long the weather would detain them. Jonathan wanted to proceed as soon and as fast as possible, while Colin pointed out that they were at the mercy of wind and tide.
‘I have heard that there is a sure way to raise a favourable wind,’ said Jonathan Case. ‘You must drown a cat.’
‘Then you will have to catch one in Gravesend,’ said Colin Case. ‘Lay a hand on Gog and Magog and I will lay both hands on you.’
Gog and Magog? I was baffled by this reference to the two giant figures carried in London processions until Colin made a comment on their ratting skills and I realized he was talking about the ship’s cats.
‘Well, maybe I will go catch a cat in Gravesend,’ said Dr Jonathan before adding, with a relish that caused me to shudder inwardly, ‘and drown it in a bucket.’
‘Rather than kill a cat, maybe my brother could use the influence of his magic stone to get favourable weather,’ said Captain Case to the rest of us.
‘Oh, I have heard of this magic stone,’ said Henry Tallman. ‘It originated in the polar regions, did it not?’
It was plain that Jonathan Case was unwilling to answer. This was most likely the reason Tallman pressed him further, saying, ‘Won’t you show it to us, Dr Case? I understand it is in this very chamber.’
Jonathan glanced automatically at the cabinet and its weird detector lock before looking daggers at his brother for raising the subject. Even so, I could see that he was half tempted by the chance of showing off what he’d called ‘the sky-stone’ once more. He sighed but nevertheless reached for his keys and went across to the cabinet. Stooping, he was about to insert the key into the lock when he suddenly straightened and whirled around. The expression on his face was somewhere between fury and panic.
‘Someone has been tampering with this. The lady’s finger points at forty. Someone has opened the cabinet.’
He looked at our four faces as if one of us might have been responsible. I could vouch for Jack and me, although I didn’t know about Captain Case or Henry Tallman. While Dr Case jabbed at the keyhole with the key — failing several times on account of his angry state — I recalled that the extended arm of the dancing lady had indicated the number thirty-nine on the dial. If it was now reading forty, then the cabinet must have been opened. Unless Jonathan Case had done it himself and somehow forgotten.
By now the physician had succeeded in turning the key in the lock. He scrabbled blindly inside until his hand closed on something. He brought out the satin-swathed item he’d deposited there the previous evening. He unwrapped it and brought the contents close to his eyes. He pored over its surface. To me it looked very like the sky-stone. Case’s shoulders slumped in relief. An involuntary ‘Thank God’ escaped his lips. It was the sky- stone.
He carried the dark stone back to where we were sitting. He was reluctant to let it out of his hands but allowed Mr Tallman to hold it for a few instants. This black-clad individual weighed it in his palm before holding it up so that he could study its outline. I was still unable to decide whether it most resembled a bird or a boat. I noticed Colin Case looking curiously at it. Tallman sniffed at the sky-stone. He, too, scanned its surface.
‘Why, there appear to be characters inscribed here,’ he said. ‘Strange markings. Letters, perhaps, although not English ones.’
‘Perhaps so, perhaps so,’ said the doctor.
‘It has curative properties?’
‘It may do.’
‘My friend Dr John Dee of Mortlake would be interested in this,’ said Tallman.
‘No doubt,’ said Dr Jonathan Case.
I picked up the reference to a much more famous doctor, the aforesaid Dee, the aged occultist and astrologer who was an occasional counsellor to kings and queens. Tallman probably mentioned him to show the reach of his acquaintance. If so, Case was determined not to be impressed, as his terse answer showed.
Trying again, Tallman said, ‘I am sometimes troubled by the head-ache. I could sleep with the stone under my bolster to test its curative powers.’
Case was having none of it. He held out his hand but Tallman wasn’t quite done.
‘I was under the impression that this was the property of an important foreigner, one residing in London.’
‘It may have been,’ said Jonathan Case, now practically seizing the sky-stone from Tallman. The physician replaced the black stone in the cabinet, once more making a show of turning the key in the lock and examining the dial.
I had a sense of strong animosity between the three men, or at least between Jonathan Case on the one side and his brother Colin Case and Henry Tallman on the other. I was not sure what Tallman did but, from his mention of Dr Dee and other not-so-casual comments, I rather thought he, too, was one of those individuals who claim to be able to unpick the mysteries of heaven and earth, and most likely of hell as well. That would explain his interest in the sky-stone. Each man had his specialism, whether it was seamanship or physic or occultism, and each man looked down on the others’. With Colin Case there was the additional irritation of having to defer to his brother, who had chartered the Argo. I hoped the ship’s captain was getting well rewarded for it.
Jack and I kept fairly quiet and tucked into the mutton stew provided by the Gravesend ordinary. We were glad enough to be at the end of our voyage, as we thought. I hadn’t eaten all day and my appetite had returned. We listened to the bickering of these individuals with mild interest, no more. There was a revealing comment made by Dr Case later in the meal. Tallman brought up the subject of the sky-stone once more, remarking that many people would like get their hands on it by fair means or foul. As Tallman said this, Jonathan Case glanced at Jack Wilson and me. Not in suspicion, as if we wanted to steal the thing, but with a momentary unease, as if he were touched by guilt.
‘Is that why you requested our company from Middle Temple to the riverside yesterday?’ said Jack. ‘Were we to act as protection against any attempt to seize the stone?’
‘I was delighted to have you with me,’ said Case. ‘Strength in numbers.’
