The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Perilous Journey

“Yes, it does,” said Constance, turning away. “And don’t argue with me. I’m done talking. I feel sicker than sick.”

So did Reynie and Sticky, both of whom were breathing in shallow gasps and longing for the solidity of land. Kate felt fine, however, and as she mulled over what Constance had told her, she snatched another treat from the tins and began to pace the cabin. This required no small feat of balance, as there was scant room for pacing and the floor was disinclined to hold on a level. She was chattering about something the whole while, but the boys had lost their ability to concentrate.

Reynie was trying not to watch her. He would have closed his eyes, but doing so made him feel even sicker. “Kate, will you please stop moving around? It’s only making things worse.”

Kate stopped in her tracks. “Making what worse? Oh, you don’t look so well, Reynie! In fact, neither do you, Sticky! Are all of you sick?”

“You should be a doctor,” Sticky groaned.

Before long all three of the invalids were groaning so much that the cabin sounded like a frog pond, and Kate, seeing that her friends’ conditions were only worsening, set out to learn the quickest routes to all the ship’s bathrooms. (It was also a good excuse to flee the whimpering and moans.) As it happened, the routes Kate learned proved very useful to her friends. But they were all too sick to thank her.

Directions, Recollections, and Outstanding Debts

Reynie’s first waking thought was that he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten since the evening before, and it was now — well, what time was it, anyway? He had no idea how long he’d slept. At least the sickness had passed; Reynie would choose hunger pangs over seasickness any day. Reynie would choose almost anything over seasickness.

He, Sticky, and Constance had spent their first night aboard the Shortcut feeling sicker than they’d ever felt. (Kate, having shown them to their various bathrooms, slept peacefully in the quiet cabin.) When their illnesses finally subsided early that morning, they had all collapsed into their bunks and passed out. Reynie had a vague memory — or was it a dream? — of Captain Noland speaking in hushed tones to Kate at the cabin door, but otherwise he’d been in complete oblivion until now.

Reynie’s mind moved swiftly to Mr. Benedict and Number Two. Only three days left, he thought, and the urgency he’d felt since yesterday morning gripped him with new intensity. He opened his eyes and sat up. The cabin was dark. Perhaps Kate had taped something over the porthole to help them sleep? No, a glance at the porthole revealed nothing of the sort. He scratched his head and yawned, only to snap his mouth shut — painfully biting his tongue — when Kate sprang up out of the darkness onto his bunk. She shone her penlight into his face.

“What’s the matter?” Kate asked. “Did I scare you?”

“Never mind,” said Reynie grumpily. “What’s going on? How long have I been out?”

“Too long. It’s evening now. The captain will be here soon.”

“Evening?”

“Yes, and I’ve been going nuts waiting for you to wake up,” Kate said. “Cannonball let me visit Madge a few minutes at lunchtime, but otherwise I’ve been cooped up in here all day with no one to talk to. She’s doing fine, by the way. Cannonball gives her prime bits of meat from the galley — he calls it ‘frog food’ — and I think she may be falling in love with him.”

“Did the captain come?” Reynie asked. “Or did I dream that?”

“No, he came by this morning. Do you not remember? You sat up and said something like ‘eggness,’ then fell back to sleep.” Kate thrust a piece of paper at him. “He brought this. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he said he’d think about it today.”

Reynie looked at the paper, but it was too dark to read. “The captain read this? He didn’t wait for us to see it first?”

“Well, no,” Kate said. “He’d already looked at it. I’m sure he just wanted to help.”

“I suppose so,” said Reynie uneasily. Rhonda had let them open the first envelope, and somehow he’d expected Captain Noland to do the same. But the circumstances had been different at Mr. Benedict’s house, Reynie reminded himself. Anyway, shouldn’t he be glad the captain cared?

“I’ve been staring at it all day,” Kate was saying. “It isn’t really a riddle at all — more like directions — but I still haven’t gotten very far with it.”

“Let me see your penlight,” Reynie said, and shining the light onto the paper he read:

Well done, my friends, and may your ocean crossing be great fun! Please go down for your hint, then up to where the clues lead you — that’s where you’ll find the next envelope! — Mr. Benedict

The middle of the page was blank except for a wide scorch mark. (“No lemon-juice messages,” Kate muttered.) Reynie scanned down to the bottom, where Mr. Benedict had written the following lines:

Castle of Sticky’s namesake

Against westernmost wall

Not visible

Need tool

Olive trees nearby

No cork or pine for two meters

“I figure the castle must be on a hill,” said Kate, “which is why he made such a point of saying to go up to where the clues lead. But I’ve never heard of a castle named Sticky or George or Washington or anything like it, have you?”

Reynie shook his head. “I’ll bet Sticky has, though.”