The Grim Grotto

'Is this your submarine, Captain Widdershins? Violet asked.

'What?' the captain roared. 'You don't know whose submarine it is? A renowned inventor like yourself and you haven't the faintest sense of basic submarine history? Of course this is my submarine! It's been my submarine for years! Aye! Have you never heard of Captain Widdershins and the Queequeg? Have you never heard of the Submarine Q and Its Crew of Two? That's a little nickname I made up myself! With a little help! Aye! I would think Josephine would have told you about the Queequeg! After all, I patrolled Lake Lachrymose for years! Poor Josephine! There's not a day I don't think of her! Aye! Except some days when it slips my mind!'

'Nottooti?' Sunny asked.

'I was told it would take me some time to understand everything you said,' the captain said, looking down at Sunny. 'I'm not sure I'll find the time to learn another foreign language! Aye! Perhaps I could enroll in some night classes!'

'What my sister means,' Violet said quickly, 'is that she's curious how you know so much about us.'

'How does anyone know anything about anything?' the captain replied. 'I read it, of course! Aye! I've read every Volunteer Factual Dispatch I've received! Although lately I haven't received any! Aye! That's why I'm glad you happened along! Aye! I thought I might faint when I peered through the periscope and saw your damp little faces staring back at me! Aye! I was sure it was you, but I didn't hesitate to ask you the password! Aye! I never hesitate! Aye! That's my personal philosophy!'

The captain stopped in the middle of the hallway, and pointed to a brass rectangle that was attached to a wall. It was a plaque, a word which here means 'metal rectangle with words carved on it, usually to indicate that something important has happened on the spot where the rectangle is attached.' This plaque had a large V.F.D. eye carved into the top, watching over the words THE CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY carved in enormous letters, but the Baudelaires had to lean in close to see what was printed beneath it.

''He who hesitates is lost'!' the captain cried, pointing at each word with a thick, gloved finger.

''Or she,'' Violet added, pointing to a pair of words that someone had added in scratchy handwriting.

'My stepdaughter added that,' Captain Widdershins said. 'And she's right! ‘Or she'! One day I was walking down this very hallway and I realized that anyone can be lost if they hesitate! A giant octopus could be chasing you, and if you decided to pause for a moment and tie your shoes, what would happen? All would be lost, that's what would happen! Aye! That's why it's my personal philosophy! I never hesitate! Never! Aye! Well, sometimes I do! But I try not to! Because He or she who hesitates is lost! Let's go!'

Without hesitating a moment longer at the plaque, Captain Widdershins whirled around and led the children further down the corridor, which echoed with the odd sound of his waterproof boots each time he took a step. The children were a bit dizzy from the captain's chatter, and they were thinking about his personal philosophy and whether or not it ought to be their personal philosophies as well. Having a personal philosophy is like having a pet marmoset, because it may be very attractive when you acquire it, but there may be situations when it will not come in handy at all. 'He or she who hesitates is lost' sounded like a reasonable philosophy at first glance, but the Baudelaires could think of situations in which hesitating might be the best thing to do. Violet was glad she'd hesitated when she and her siblings were living with Aunt Josephine, otherwise she might never have realized the importance of the peppermints she found in her pocket. Klaus was glad he'd hesitated at Heimlich Hospital, otherwise he might never have thought of a way to disguise Sunny and himself as medical professionals so they could rescue Violet from having unnecessary surgery. And Sunny was glad she'd hesitated outside Count Olaf's tent on Mount Fraught, otherwise she might never have overheard the name of the last safe place, which the Baudelaires still hoped to reach. But despite all these incidents in which hesitation had been very helpful, the children did not wish to adopt 'He or she who does not hesitate is lost' as their personal philosophy, because a giant octopus might come along at any moment, particularly when the Baudelaires were on board a submarine, and the siblings would be very foolish to hesitate if the octopus were coming after them. Perhaps, the Baudelaires thought, the wisest personal philosophy concerning hesitation would be 'Sometimes he or she should hesitate and sometimes he or she should not hesitate,' but this seemed far too long and vague to be much use on a plaque.

'Maybe if I hadn't hesitated,' the captain continued, 'the Queequeg would have been repaired by now! Aye! The Submarine Q and Its Crew of Two is not in the best of shape, I'm afraid! Aye! We've been attacked by villains and leeches, by sharks and realtors, by pirates and girlfriends, by torpedoes and angry salmon! Aye!' He stopped at a thick metal door, turned to the Baudelaires, and signed. 'Everything from the radar mechanisms to my alarm clock is malfunctioning! Aye! That's why I'm glad you're here, Violet Baudelaire! We're desperate for someone with mechanical smarts!'

'I'll see what I can do,' Violet said.

'Well, take a look!' Captain Widdershins cried, and swung open the door. The Baudelaires followed him into an enormous, cavernous room that echoed when the captain spoke. There were pipes on the ceiling, pipes on the floor, and pipes sticking out of the walls at all angles. Between the pipes was a bewildering array of panels with knobs, gears, and tiny screens, as well as tiny signs saying things like, DANGER!, WARNING!, and HE OR SHE WHO HESITATES IS LOST! Here and there were a few green lights, and at the far end was an enormous wooden table piled with books, maps, and dirty dishes, which stood beneath an enormous porthole, a word which here means 'round window through which the Baudelaires could see the filthy waters of the Stricken Stream.'

'This is the belly of the beast!' the captain said. 'Aye! It's the center of all operations aboard the Queequeg! This is where we control the submarine, eat our meals, research our missions, and play board games when we're tired of working!' He strode over to one panel and ducked his head beneath it. 'Fiona!' he called. 'Come out of there!'

There was a faint rattling sound, and then the children saw something race out from under the panel and halfway across the floor. In the dim green light it took a moment to see it was a girl a bit older than Violet, who was lying faceup on a small wheeled platform. She was wearing a suit just like Captain Widdershin's, with the same portrait of the bearded man on the front, and had a flashlight in one hand and a pair of pliers in the other. Smiling, she handed the pliers to her stepfather, who helped her up from the platform as she put on a pair of eyeglasses with triangular frames.

'Baudelaires,' the captain said, 'this is Fiona, my stepdaughter. Fiona, this is Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire.'

'Charmed,' she said, extending a gloved hand first to Violet, then to Klaus, and finally to Sunny, who gave Fiona a big toothy smile. 'I'm sorry I wasn't upstairs to meet you. I've been trying to repair this telegram device, but electrical repairwork is not my specialty.'

'Aye!' the captain said. 'For quite some time we've stopped receiving telegrams, but Fiona can't seem to make heads or tails of the device! Violet, get to work!'

'You'll have to forgive the way my stepfather speaks,' Fiona said, putting an arm around him. 'It can take some getting used to.'

'We don't have time to get used to anything!' Captain Widdershins cried. 'This is no time to be passive! He who hesitates is lost!'

'Or she,' Fiona corrected quietly. 'Come on, Violet, I'll get you a uniform. If you're wondering whose portrait is one the front, it's Herman Melville.'

'He's one of my favorite authors,' Klaus said. 'I really enjoy the way he dramatizes the plight of overlooked people, such as poor sailors or exploited youngsters, through his strange, often experimental philosophical prose.'

'I should have known you liked him,' Fiona replied. 'When Josephine's house fell into the lake, my stepfather and I managed to save some of her library before it became too soaked. I read some of your decoding notes, Klaus. You're a very perceptive researcher.'

'It's very kind of you to say so,' Klaus said.

'Aye!' the captain cried. 'A perceptive researcher is just what we need!' He stomped over to the table and lifted a pile of papers. 'A certain taxi driver managed to smuggle these charts to me,' he said, 'but I can't make head or tail of them! They're confusing! They're confounding! They're conversational! No – that's not what I mean!'

'I think you mean convoluted,' Klaus said, peering at the charts. ''Conversational' means ‘having to do with conversations,' but ‘convoluted' means ‘complicated.' What kind of charts are they?'