The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Perilous Journey

“In case of attack,” said Cannonball in a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s just an added measure of protection. That’s one reason the company owners are so pleased about the Shortcut. With a ship this fast and a security hold like this, there’s no chance of losing your precious cargo to pirates.”

“Pirates!” Constance exclaimed. “You must be joking!”

Kate laughed. “I think you have your centuries mixed up, Cannonball.”

“Wrong you are!” said Cannonball. “Of course modern pirates don’t hoist the skull and crossbones, and it’s not as common as it used to be, but there’s still a good bit of piracy around the world. Costs companies a pretty penny.”

“In fact,” Sticky interjected, “last year, piracy cost the global economy over thirty billion dollars.”

Cannonball’s eyes bulged with delight, and once again he grabbed Sticky and hugged him. “Listen to him talk about piracy and global economy! Now how in the world did you know that?”

“Sticky reads a lot,” Reynie said.

“And it all sticks in his head,” Kate said. “That’s why he has the nickname.”

“You don’t say!” said Cannonball, chuckling. “Why, I’ve never met —”

The guard in the doorway cleared his throat impatiently. “How long is this going to take, Cannonball?”

“Hard to say,” Cannonball said, giving the guard a withering look. “And you can call me Officer Shooter.” He turned away from the man and crossed his eyes at the children, who tried not to laugh. “At any rate, you don’t have to worry about pirates. These shipping lanes never see any attacks. But the bul — that is, the company owners want to know they can ship things overseas with absolute security.”

“Like those diamonds,” Constance said.

Cannonball stole a nervous glance at the guard, who was speaking into his radio and seemed not to have heard. “Yes, well, ahem. Let’s not discuss those in present company, all right? I’m not entirely sure you’re supposed to know about them, if you see what I mean.”

“I’ll tell them,” the guard muttered into his radio. He put it away and said, “Tour’s over, people. Everyone out.”

“Well, since you ask so nicely,” said Cannonball, and with a wink at the children he led them out.

After the tour, the children returned to their cabin to eat their suppers, which Cannonball went to fetch for them. He’d thought they might join the crew for their meals, he said. But the owners had already expressed irritation at the presence of children on the ship, and Captain Noland, with apologies, had sent word for them to keep to their quarters.

“I can’t believe the nerve of those people,” Constance said as they waited. “They treat the captain like their servant — and us like rats. We’re starving down here!”

“That’s probably what they’re hoping for,” said Reynie.

“As long as we’re waiting,” Kate said, going to the door, “I’m off to the head.”

Constance looked confused. “The head?”

“Ship-talk for ‘bathroom,’” said Kate as she went out.

“Why not call it what it is?” Constance grumbled. “Just keep it a toilet, no grand names to spoil it.”

“You think ‘the head’ is a grand name?” Reynie asked.

“Poetic license,” Constance said haughtily, as Sticky smirked and rolled his eyes. “If you boys can come up with a better rhyme to express my annoyance, feel free.”

The boys were still trying to come up with better rhymes when Cannonball returned from the galley. “I’m afraid Kate hasn’t found her sea legs,” he said, handing out sandwiches and bottles of soda. “I overheard her in the head as I passed by. Sick as a dog, poor thing. Retching and gagging for all she’s worth.”

“That can’t be Kate,” Sticky said. “She wasn’t sick at all when she left.”

Reynie masked a smile. He thought he knew what Kate had been up to. “I’ll check on her, just in case,” he said, going out. He met Kate in the narrow passageway outside the cabin. Sure enough, her face was flushed and sweaty, and she was stomping along in obvious frustration. She saw Reynie and tried to look natural, but it was too late. His amusement was too plain.

“Not a word,” she said, brushing past him.

“Still no luck?” Reynie said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kate said without looking back.

As Cannonball had other duties to attend to, the children ate their supper alone. Afterward Kate placed her bucket beneath the porthole so that Reynie and Sticky could stand on it and look out. A nearly full moon had risen over the ocean, its reflection shimmering on the water. It was a lovely sight, and Kate offered to lift Constance up to see for herself. But Constance was lying on her bunk, gazing at her pendant, and said she wasn’t in the mood.

The truth was that Constance was suffering a great deal. Ever since that morning, when the dreadful message was delivered, she had felt caught up in a whirlwind of emotions, and there was no sign of her coming down anytime soon. It was no wonder. For the last year of her life she had relied completely upon Mr. Benedict — and a year was a very long time indeed to Constance, who had been around for so few to begin with.

Now Mr. Benedict was gone, perhaps never to be seen again, and Constance found herself anguishing over his disappearance as much for what he had not been to her as for what he had. What Mr. Benedict had been was Constance’s affectionate guardian and emotional anchor. What he had not been was her father — not yet, at least, and Constance keenly felt the lack. She could never express why this was so, not even to herself, but she had long believed that becoming Mr. Benedict’s adopted daughter would transform her world, would make her something other than a lost and wandering oddity of a girl. Now she may well have lost her chance.