The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Perilous Journey

As the ship slowly turned, the children could see all the way across Stonetown Bay to Nomansan Island, the hilly mass of rock upon which Mr. Curtain’s Institute had been situated, and memories of their time there — memories both dark and thrilling — flooded to the forefront of their minds. Without speaking, possibly without even realizing it, the three friends edged closer together until they stood with shoulders touching. Together they looked out across the waters of the harbor as if across time itself: There they were a year ago, arriving on the island, anxious about what lay ahead. And now, standing at the ship’s rail, their thoughts came full circle to their present mission: to save Mr. Benedict. What harm did Mr. Curtain have in mind for Mr. Benedict and Number Two? And was there any chance in the world that they could stop him?

As if they’d been discussing this aloud, Kate said, “Well, we’ve made it this far. That’s a start, isn’t it?”

The Shortcut was well clear of the docks now and was picking up speed. In no time the ship would be out of the harbor and plowing into Atlantic waters.

“Just imagine,” said Sticky, shaking his head. “A few hours ago I was worried about what Mom and Dad would do to me for leaving without permission. Now we’re crossing the ocean. And we have no idea what we’re in for.”

Kate gave him a sympathetic look. “Your parents are the least of your worries now, you know.”

Sticky rolled his eyes. “That was my point, Kate.”

“Oh!” Kate said. She clapped him on the back. “Well, then. Good point.”

The Shortcut was really moving now. The harbor traffic fell astern, the glittering waters of the ocean stretched endlessly ahead, and the ship sped faster and faster — so fast that the salty air howled past the children’s ears like the winds of a gale — as if the Shortcut meant to flash across the water like an arrow and split the horizon. None of them had ever experienced anything like it. For more than an hour they stood transfixed, staring ahead with watering eyes as the ship pressed on and on, trembling with an urgency they felt to their bones. So engrossed were they that none of them thought to look back again until Stonetown itself had disappeared behind them, lost beyond the curve of the earth.

“There you are!” shouted Cannonball. “We’ve been looking for you!”

The children turned to see the barrel-chested sailor grinning at them, clutching his cap to keep the wind from carrying it off. Beside him, gripping Cannonball’s leg to keep herself from being carried off, was a scowling Constance Contraire. Perhaps she felt she’d been abandoned, or perhaps she simply hadn’t napped long enough. Her mouth was moving — no doubt she was elaborating upon her foul mood — but the wind on deck was so loud she could scarcely be heard. The others only nodded and tried to look apologetic, the better to avoid a tantrum.

“Ready for your tour?” Cannonball hollered.

The children followed Cannonball from bow to stern, listening with interest as he shouted about the Shortcut’s hull design and engines, and the functions of various deck buildings and equipment. There wasn’t much room to walk on deck, for most of it was covered with stacks of huge metal containers. Almost all the cargo was carried in these containers, Cannonball explained, which in other cargo ships must be loaded and unloaded with cranes — a long, laborious process — whereas the Shortcut’s specially designed containers could be rolled off and on the ship in no time.

“It’s all about speed, you see!” Cannonball shouted. “She may carry less than other container ships, but she’s five times as fast!”

Constance, who could hardly get excited about a bunch of giant metal boxes, pointed toward a squat tower behind whose windows she could see Captain Noland and some crew members working. “What’s that thing for?”

“Why, that’s the bridge!” Cannonball cried with a look of surprise. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him that anyone could fail to recognize a ship’s bridge. “Can’t take you in there, I’m afraid!” He glanced about, then tried to shout in a whisper: “The bullfrogs wouldn’t like seeing children on the bridge.” The children frowned at this, and with a sympathetic shake of his head Cannonball started to move away.

“Good grief!” exclaimed Kate, whose sharp eyes had just spotted a familiar large bird perched atop the bridge tower. “It’s Madge! She followed me again! She must have seen me get on that bus!”

“Madge?” asked Cannonball, his eyes growing round with amazement as Kate pointed out the falcon and explained the situation. They grew rounder still when she produced her spyglass and trained it on the bird, and for a moment the young sailor seemed unable to decide whether to stare at the falcon on the bridge tower or the girl with a bucket full of useful tools — both sights being so unusual on a ship. He recovered quickly, however, and with a fond smile said, “My great-uncle was a falconer. I always loved visiting him as a boy. Wonderful birds, falcons. Royalty of the bird world, if you ask me.”

Kate beamed at this, of course, and when she had passed around her spyglass — none of the other children cared to look long, as Madge was dining upon an unfortunate seabird and the sight made them squeamish — she took out her whistle and her leather glove, thinking to call Madge down. But Cannonball bent close and asked her to put them away.

“Not right now,” he said, with a significant look at a portly company owner who had just appeared on deck. “Sorry, but that fellow might be displeased to see something so irregular as a girl with a trained falcon. We’ll call her down later, if you don’t mind. At any rate, it would be uncivil of us to interrupt her meal, don’t you think?”

Kate was disappointed, but she followed obligingly enough when Cannonball led them belowdecks, where the howl of the wind abruptly ceased and they were able to speak in normal voices. (Or, for Cannonball, what passed as a normal voice.) “Care to see the security hold?” he asked. “Cargo containers are awfully dull stuff for a tour, I know. But the security hold’s something special!”

The children did, of course, want to see the security hold, so Cannonball took them down into the depths of the ship. They passed several scurrying crew members and a phalanx of security guards before coming to a thick metal door with a round, spoked handle on it like that of a bank vault. At a word from Cannonball, one of the guards rather begrudgingly opened the door to let them enter, then positioned himself in the doorway to watch their every movement. The security hold was surprisingly large, almost the size of a tennis court. Its walls were lined with lockers, chests, and safes.

“The great thing about the security hold,” Cannonball told them, “is that it can be locked from the inside, and it’s big enough that we could cram the whole crew in here if necessary.”

“Why would you do that?” asked Reynie.