Constance, who could hardly get excited about a bunch of giant metal boxes, pointed toward a squat tower behind whose windows she could see Captain Noland and some crew members working. “What’s that thing for?”
“Why, that’s the bridge!” Cannonball cried with a look of surprise. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him that anyone could fail to recognize a ship’s bridge. “Can’t take you in there, I’m afraid!” He glanced about, then tried to shout in a whisper: “The bullfrogs wouldn’t like seeing children on the bridge.” The children frowned at this, and with a sympathetic shake of his head Cannonball started to move away.
“Good grief!” exclaimed Kate, whose sharp eyes had just spotted a familiar large bird perched atop the bridge tower. “It’s Madge! She followed me again! She must have seen me get on that bus!”
“Madge?” asked Cannonball, his eyes growing round with amazement as Kate pointed out the falcon and explained the situation. They grew rounder still when she produced her spyglass and trained it on the bird, and for a moment the young sailor seemed unable to decide whether to stare at the falcon on the bridge tower or the girl with a bucket full of useful tools — both sights being so unusual on a ship. He recovered quickly, however, and with a fond smile said, “My great-uncle was a falconer. I always loved visiting him as a boy. Wonderful birds, falcons. Royalty of the bird world, if you ask me.”
Kate beamed at this, of course, and when she had passed around her spyglass — none of the other children cared to look long, as Madge was dining upon an unfortunate seabird and the sight made them squeamish — she took out her whistle and her leather glove, thinking to call Madge down. But Cannonball bent close and asked her to put them away.
“Not right now,” he said, with a significant look at a portly company owner who had just appeared on deck. “Sorry, but that fellow might be displeased to see something so irregular as a girl with a trained falcon. We’ll call her down later, if you don’t mind. At any rate, it would be uncivil of us to interrupt her meal, don’t you think?”
Kate was disappointed, but she followed obligingly enough when Cannonball led them belowdecks, where the howl of the wind abruptly ceased and they were able to speak in normal voices. (Or, for Cannonball, what passed as a normal voice.) “Care to see the security hold?” he asked. “Cargo containers are awfully dull stuff for a tour, I know. But the security hold’s something special!”
The children did, of course, want to see the security hold, so Cannonball took them down into the depths of the ship. They passed several scurrying crew members and a phalanx of security guards before coming to a thick metal door with a round, spoked handle on it like that of a bank vault. At a word from Cannonball, one of the guards rather begrudgingly opened the door to let them enter, then positioned himself in the doorway to watch their every movement. The security hold was surprisingly large, almost the size of a tennis court. Its walls were lined with lockers, chests, and safes.
“The great thing about the security hold,” Cannonball told them, “is that it can be locked from the inside, and it’s big enough that we could cram the whole crew in here if necessary.”
“Why would you do that?” asked Reynie.
“In case of attack,” said Cannonball in a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s just an added measure of protection. That’s one reason the company owners are so pleased about the Shortcut. With a ship this fast and a security hold like this, there’s no chance of losing your precious cargo to pirates.”
“Pirates!” Constance exclaimed. “You must be joking!”
Kate laughed. “I think you have your centuries mixed up, Cannonball.”
“Wrong you are!” said Cannonball. “Of course modern pirates don’t hoist the skull and crossbones, and it’s not as common as it used to be, but there’s still a good bit of piracy around the world. Costs companies a pretty penny.”
“In fact,” Sticky interjected, “last year, piracy cost the global economy over thirty billion dollars.”
Cannonball’s eyes bulged with delight, and once again he grabbed Sticky and hugged him. “Listen to him talk about piracy and global economy! Now how in the world did you know that?”
“Sticky reads a lot,” Reynie said.
“And it all sticks in his head,” Kate said. “That’s why he has the nickname.”
“You don’t say!” said Cannonball, chuckling. “Why, I’ve never met —”
The guard in the doorway cleared his throat impatiently. “How long is this going to take, Cannonball?”
“Hard to say,” Cannonball said, giving the guard a withering look. “And you can call me Officer Shooter.” He turned away from the man and crossed his eyes at the children, who tried not to laugh. “At any rate, you don’t have to worry about pirates. These shipping lanes never see any attacks. But the bul — that is, the company owners want to know they can ship things overseas with absolute security.”
“Like those diamonds,” Constance said.
Cannonball stole a nervous glance at the guard, who was speaking into his radio and seemed not to have heard. “Yes, well, ahem. Let’s not discuss those in present company, all right? I’m not entirely sure you’re supposed to know about them, if you see what I mean.”
“I’ll tell them,” the guard muttered into his radio. He put it away and said, “Tour’s over, people. Everyone out.”
“Well, since you ask so nicely,” said Cannonball, and with a wink at the children he led them out.
After the tour, the children returned to their cabin to eat their suppers, which Cannonball went to fetch for them. He’d thought they might join the crew for their meals, he said. But the owners had already expressed irritation at the presence of children on the ship, and Captain Noland, with apologies, had sent word for them to keep to their quarters.
“I can’t believe the nerve of those people,” Constance said as they waited. “They treat the captain like their servant — and us like rats. We’re starving down here!”
“That’s probably what they’re hoping for,” said Reynie.
“As long as we’re waiting,” Kate said, going to the door, “I’m off to the head.”
Constance looked confused. “The head?”
“Ship-talk for ‘bathroom,’” said Kate as she went out.
“Why not call it what it is?” Constance grumbled. “Just keep it a toilet, no grand names to spoil it.”
“You think ‘the head’ is a grand name?” Reynie asked.
“Poetic license,” Constance said haughtily, as Sticky smirked and rolled his eyes. “If you boys can come up with a better rhyme to express my annoyance, feel free.”
The boys were still trying to come up with better rhymes when Cannonball returned from the galley. “I’m afraid Kate hasn’t found her sea legs,” he said, handing out sandwiches and bottles of soda. “I overheard her in the head as I passed by. Sick as a dog, poor thing. Retching and gagging for all she’s worth.”
“That can’t be Kate,” Sticky said. “She wasn’t sick at all when she left.”
Reynie masked a smile. He thought he knew what Kate had been up to. “I’ll check on her, just in case,” he said, going out. He met Kate in the narrow passageway outside the cabin. Sure enough, her face was flushed and sweaty, and she was stomping along in obvious frustration. She saw Reynie and tried to look natural, but it was too late. His amusement was too plain.
“Not a word,” she said, brushing past him.
“Still no luck?” Reynie said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kate said without looking back.
As Cannonball had other duties to attend to, the children ate their supper alone. Afterward Kate placed her bucket beneath the porthole so that Reynie and Sticky could stand on it and look out. A nearly full moon had risen over the ocean, its reflection shimmering on the water. It was a lovely sight, and Kate offered to lift Constance up to see for herself. But Constance was lying on her bunk, gazing at her pendant, and said she wasn’t in the mood.