problem.
‘Daniel,’ said Captain Bass patiently, ‘the loblolly boy was not talking about a real string, he was talking about a metaphorical string.’
‘Oh, I know! I know!’ continued Mr Flynn, his excitement unabated. ‘I’m not a fool!’
I was beginning to think he was.
‘And I,’ said Mr Flynn, ‘am not talking about real scissors, I am talking about metaphorical scissors!’
This time, Captain Bass looked at him more keenly. ‘Doyou think you could make such a pair of scissors, Daniel?’
‘No need,’ said Mr Flynn, ‘I have such a device already made. In fact,’ he laughed, ‘the device was commissioned by none other than our Mr Wicker.’
‘The devil!’ exclaimed the captain. ‘Why did Wicker want such a device?’
‘It may be hard to believe,’ said Mr Flynn, ‘but there was a period when Wicker was worried about being tempted to do good. He told me that he was, from time to time, unaccountably drawn towards unselfishness and good deeds and he asked me to create a machine that would snip through those threads pulling him towards virtue.’
‘Did it work?’ I asked.
‘Like a trivet,’ said Mr Flynn. ‘I don’t think he’s been at all troubled by those impulses ever since.’
‘In that case,’ said the captain, ‘if you can lay your hands on the device we should try it.’
‘Your servant, sir,’ said the little man, and he hurried away, disappearing down the ladder much faster than he had climbed it.
‘Will this work?’ I asked.
The captain sighed. ‘I do not know, but it is the one possibility we have, so we must try it. Daniel’s creations are often things of wonder, but he is a little careless of their effects at times, his astrolabe being a case in point.’
I stared at his phosphorescent presence and the strange dancing lights on his beard. He, too, was a creature of wonder, I saw, and possibly in possession of unknown powers and — what did Mr Wicker call them? — abilities.And the thought of Mr Wicker jolted me back to an unpleasant reality.
‘Even if Mr Flynn’s machine does cut through the string,’ I said, ‘I’m still bound to him as long as I’m in this form. Only he can restore me …’
‘That may well be true,’ said Captain Bass, ‘but then again it may not.’
I suppose his words should have given me hope, but the way he said them was so bleak they denied all hope.
‘Another thing occurs to me, little Loblolly Boy,’ he continued. ‘If Daniel somehow manages to sever this connexion to Mr Wicker you must hide the fact that he has done so. Mr Wicker’s trust and confidence in you must be complete. If he suspects you have the means of escaping his hold over you, then all may be for nought: for our hopes and, I need hardly add, for yours. Do you understand me?’
I did. And his words frightened me. I was not sure I could hide anything from Mr Wicker. It would only take one time for him to fail to pull me back and all would be revealed.
‘How can I possibly do that?’ I asked nervously.
The captain sighed again. ‘I do not know,’ he replied. ‘You must be brave, you must be clever, and you must learn to anticipate Mr Wicker’s expectations.’
I nodded miserably. I wasn’t brave and I wasn’t clever and, so far, Mr Wicker had proved utterly unpredictable.
‘It will not be easy,’ I said.
‘Nothing is easy,’ said the captain, ‘but it may be easier if you keep as close as possible to Mr Wicker as you can. The fewer opportunities he has to summon you the better.’
‘I suppose so,’ I said.
This would not be easy either. I had hoped to spend time, while we were on the
Medusa
, with Sophie Blade. To stay close to Mr Wicker would make that difficult, especially if we wanted to hide from him the fact that Sophie could see me and talk to me.
Some moments later, Mr Flynn returned carrying an oblong box as if he were carrying a baby in his arms.
I suppose after his talk of scissors I was expecting a large set of
‘Daniel,’ said Captain Bass patiently, ‘the loblolly boy was not talking about a real string, he was talking about a metaphorical string.’
‘Oh, I know! I know!’ continued Mr Flynn, his excitement unabated. ‘I’m not a fool!’
I was beginning to think he was.
‘And I,’ said Mr Flynn, ‘am not talking about real scissors, I am talking about metaphorical scissors!’
This time, Captain Bass looked at him more keenly. ‘Doyou think you could make such a pair of scissors, Daniel?’
‘No need,’ said Mr Flynn, ‘I have such a device already made. In fact,’ he laughed, ‘the device was commissioned by none other than our Mr Wicker.’
‘The devil!’ exclaimed the captain. ‘Why did Wicker want such a device?’
‘It may be hard to believe,’ said Mr Flynn, ‘but there was a period when Wicker was worried about being tempted to do good. He told me that he was, from time to time, unaccountably drawn towards unselfishness and good deeds and he asked me to create a machine that would snip through those threads pulling him towards virtue.’
‘Did it work?’ I asked.
‘Like a trivet,’ said Mr Flynn. ‘I don’t think he’s been at all troubled by those impulses ever since.’
‘In that case,’ said the captain, ‘if you can lay your hands on the device we should try it.’
‘Your servant, sir,’ said the little man, and he hurried away, disappearing down the ladder much faster than he had climbed it.
‘Will this work?’ I asked.
The captain sighed. ‘I do not know, but it is the one possibility we have, so we must try it. Daniel’s creations are often things of wonder, but he is a little careless of their effects at times, his astrolabe being a case in point.’
I stared at his phosphorescent presence and the strange dancing lights on his beard. He, too, was a creature of wonder, I saw, and possibly in possession of unknown powers and — what did Mr Wicker call them? — abilities.And the thought of Mr Wicker jolted me back to an unpleasant reality.
‘Even if Mr Flynn’s machine does cut through the string,’ I said, ‘I’m still bound to him as long as I’m in this form. Only he can restore me …’
‘That may well be true,’ said Captain Bass, ‘but then again it may not.’
I suppose his words should have given me hope, but the way he said them was so bleak they denied all hope.
‘Another thing occurs to me, little Loblolly Boy,’ he continued. ‘If Daniel somehow manages to sever this connexion to Mr Wicker you must hide the fact that he has done so. Mr Wicker’s trust and confidence in you must be complete. If he suspects you have the means of escaping his hold over you, then all may be for nought: for our hopes and, I need hardly add, for yours. Do you understand me?’
I did. And his words frightened me. I was not sure I could hide anything from Mr Wicker. It would only take one time for him to fail to pull me back and all would be revealed.
‘How can I possibly do that?’ I asked nervously.
The captain sighed again. ‘I do not know,’ he replied. ‘You must be brave, you must be clever, and you must learn to anticipate Mr Wicker’s expectations.’
I nodded miserably. I wasn’t brave and I wasn’t clever and, so far, Mr Wicker had proved utterly unpredictable.
‘It will not be easy,’ I said.
‘Nothing is easy,’ said the captain, ‘but it may be easier if you keep as close as possible to Mr Wicker as you can. The fewer opportunities he has to summon you the better.’
‘I suppose so,’ I said.
This would not be easy either. I had hoped to spend time, while we were on the
Medusa
, with Sophie Blade. To stay close to Mr Wicker would make that difficult, especially if we wanted to hide from him the fact that Sophie could see me and talk to me.
Some moments later, Mr Flynn returned carrying an oblong box as if he were carrying a baby in his arms.
I suppose after his talk of scissors I was expecting a large set of
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