The Lightning Key by Jon Berkeley

ran the length of the hull. The curve of the ship made the corridor wider at the top than at the bottom. Stout ribs of oak stood at intervals along the outer hull, alternating with brass portholes that framed circular cloudscapes of spectacular beauty.
    As they approached the door of their cabin Miles’s anxious feeling became sharper, and he was not entirely surprised to see the door standing ajar and the wood splintered around the lock. He put his hand out to stop Little, and her blue eyes widened as she saw the broken door. Miles crept forward. With Tau-Tau and the Great Cortado far below them on the Albatross he had thought they were relatively safe, at least for the moment. It seemed he waswrong. He pushed the door open slowly.
    Whoever had been in their cabin was gone, but the duffel bag had been upended on the lower bunk, and the floor was strewn with clothes. “Who could have done this?” said Little. “Our clothes are all over the place.”
    â€œThat was us,” Miles reminded her, “but someone’s been through the duffel bag too. We’d better check whether anything is missing.” He reached instinctively for Tangerine, but the bear lay quietly in his trouser pocket, just where he had put him when he got dressed that morning.
    Little began to gather up the scattered contents of the duffel bag, and Miles suddenly knew exactly what had been taken. He picked up the overcoat that slouched in a corner and put his hand in the inside pocket. Celeste’s diary was gone.
    A chill crept through him. “It must be Cortado, or Doctor Tau-Tau.”
    â€œBut they’re on the Albatross ,” said Little.
    â€œMy mother’s diary is gone,” said Miles. “Who else would even know about that? They must have an accomplice on the Sunfish —a passenger, or even one of the crew.” He thought for a moment. “Either way the diary must still be on board.”
    â€œBut it could be anywhere,” said Little, packingBaltinglass’s eclectic travel kit back into the duffel bag. “How will we find it?”
    â€œFirst I’m going to find the captain and tell him there’s a burglar on his ship. You can go to the stateroom and get Baltinglass. The sight of him waving his swordstick around might be enough in itself to make the thief reconsider.”
    Miles had no idea where the captain might be found, so he made his way toward the stern of the Sunfish , where he knew the crew had their cabins. Turning a corner he almost bumped into First Officer Barrett.
    â€œMr. Wednesday!” Barrett beamed. “You have the look of a man on a mission. Can I be of assistance?”
    â€œI’m looking for the captain,” said Miles.
    â€œA ship’s captain is a busy man,” said Barrett. Standing still did not come naturally to the first officer, and after almost five seconds in the same spot he was beginning to hop from foot to foot.
    â€œIt’s very important,” said Miles.
    â€œIn that case,” said Barrett, his feet easily getting the better of his caution, “I’ll conduct you without delay to the poop deck. Which,” he added with a high-pitched laugh, “is not nearly as rude as it sounds. Follow me.”
    He turned and sped along the corridor, with Miles trotting behind to keep up.
    â€œPoop, from the Latin puppis ,” called Barrett over his shoulder, “meaning a raised deck in the stern of a ship. The real pooping is done in the heads, which are in the front, otherwise known as the bow. Am I going too fast for you?”
    Miles was not sure if Barrett was referring to the speed of his explanation or his progress toward the stern. “I can keep up,” he said.
    â€œNo further need,” said First Officer Barrett. “We’ve arrived.”
    He ran up the wooden ladder that led to the poop deck and opened a hatch at the top. Daylight streamed in, bringing a blast of cold air with it.