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The boy thrusts it forward.
“A pillowcase? What about the basket above us?”
“You want to hold it while I get the basket down?”
“No!” both Lady E. and I cry. “If the case will work…” I finish.
“That’s wha’ ’e uses. You’s put the snake in it,” the boy says, with some authority. “It’ll hold it in there, won’t strike but can bite through the cloth, so you’s needs to be careful. Seen the snake man do it ’undreds of times. He’s teaching me.”
“Snake man, on this ship?” I gulp.
“Good enough,” Bentwood allows. “Show me how it is done.”
I trust Bentwood and his intelligence but am not entirely certain of the boy. Youngsters exaggerate knowledge gained through anecdotal stories. And I definitely do not trust the snake to act as expected.
They can be sneaky.
“Have to act quick like.”
The boy snatches the snake, stuffs it in the bag, and quickly twists the cloth, creating a neck of sorts the creature cannot climb. Deftly he knots the twisted end of the bag.
“Amazing.” Lady E. claps.
The boy’s grin is becoming infections, or perhaps it’s relief, but we heap praises on him.
“I knows where this goes. I’ll take it to ’im.”
Bag held away from his body, he takes off, presumably to find the snake man.
Bentwood leans out the door.
“He’s more helpful than I thought he’d be.” Lady E. sniffs. “Now, let’s see what we have here.”
“Shouldn’t we be following him?” I’m still a bit wobbly, relieved when Lady E. tells Bentwood, “Have someone bring your wife a cup of very sweet tea.”
“The steward is fetching tea, and Steves is following the cabin boy.” Bentwood steps back inside. “But no one is going anywhere before we dock.”
“Yes… well, I suppose not, but what if he has more snakes?” I lift my hem, peering at the floor. “And what if the snake man did this and the cabin boy was helping?”
“Too obvious,” Lady E. explains. “They’d be caught.”
Legs giving way, I plonk down on the berth as Lady E. pulls the chair from the desk and places it beside the door. “Come here,” she instructs Bentwood and uses his shoulder for leverage to step up onto the seat.
“I can do that,” he tells her.
“No, this is fine,” she says, more interested in the basketry than conversation. “Look at this.” She hands it to him. “Well executed. The basket would have been hanging, right side up, with the bottom just low enough the door would push it. Tall enough to topple once the door opened wide.”
“Amazing what people are capable of when they're up to no good. But why didn’t the snake push free?” Bentwood wonders. “It was strong enough.”
“Weight,” I chime in, pointing at a small piece of bone hanging higher than the lid. “The latch. It pulled free when the weight of the basket fell away. See?”
“Well spotted.” Lady E. smiles, but her encouragement is lost in the reality of what was planned, what has happened.
I lose my starch and lean against the desk. Fortunately, the ships furniture is sturdy enough to hold me. I certainly can’t.
“If Bentwood or Steves had entered the cabin, the creature would have landed on their head.”
Grim, Lady Eleanor asks Bentwood, “When did you last go to your cabin?”
