Punch's Cousin, Chapter 18

Julian shivered as his damp shirt clung to his back. His raw throat scraped with each ragged pant as he ran—his body awkwardly bending around sharp corners as his fled deeper into the maze of the ship’s corridors. Spotting a narrow flight of stairs, he grabbed the rail to steady himself before hurrying down them.


When he reached the bottom, the tightness in his chest clawed deeper into his heart with the rough, acidic hands of panic. No, he didn’t want to be further below, closer to the tumble of the ocean. Yet his feet continued to carry him past rows of doors that were far plainer than the ones in the corridors above. Narrow metal pock marks—some open to reveal drably-dressed people with teeth like crooked tombstones. Some—worse still—were closed, hiding what could have been incomparable evil behind each.

Julian moaned between the rasps of his breath. His stomach churned with the sea—his own boiling ocean of bitterness and bile which would swell to tickle the back of his throat. Julian gagged.

“Here now,” a man’s voice taunted Julian from behind.

Lord Fallbridge stopped, pressing his back against the cold wall.

“I think ‘e’s got hisself lost.” The man said.

“Musta done.” Another man added.

The two of them walked toward Julian. Rusty tweed caps sat askew on their heads, covering curly mops of oily hair.

“No, no.” Julian said, still panting. “No.”

“Listen, Sir.” One of the men said. “This ain’t no place for the likes of you. Go on back up.”

Julian gasped for air. “I’m lost. Lost.”

The men looked at one another, and, then turned back to Julian with a strange expression in their eyes. Julian couldn’t tell what it was. Was it pity? Was it something more sinister?

“What’s yer name, Sir?” One of the men asked, he reached for Julian with his wide hands—calloused fingers tipped by chipped nails.

“I…” Julian shook. “I….”

“’E’s in his cups.” One of them laughed. “The fine gentleman likes ‘is drink.”

“What’s that, Sir?” The other smiled. “Such a pretty blue stone on yer hand.”

“Leave him alone,” a woman said curtly as she approached them. She wore a wide-brimmed bonnet with a rose-colored veil that covered her face.

“Aw, Miss. We’re only trying to ‘elp ‘im.” The taller of the two men winked.

“Sir,” The woman spoke to Julian from a distance. “The stairs are that way.” She pointed up the corridor, her hands gloved in clinging lavender silk. “I suggest you hurry back.”

Her voice was familiar.

“Go on, then.” She said sharply.

Julian bent forward, and then, darted past the two men, trying not to touch them as he brushed by. They smelled of sweat and gin, and Julian thought of Arthur.

Though perspiration stung his eyes, Julian could make out the shadow of the stairs. Feeling for the railing, he steadied himself again and in near-blindness fumbled up the stairs.

“Lord Julian,” Robert sighed with relief from above.

“Help me, please.” Julian cried.

Robert gently took Julian’s arm and led him back to his cabin. He helped Julian to the bed and lifted a glass of water to the man’s quivering lips. Julian tried to drink, but the water spilled down his chin.

“You mustn’t do that again, Julian.” Robert said softly.

“I don’t know why I did.” Julian shook.

“Rest now,” Robert said.

Julian lay back.

“That woman…” Julian began.

“What woman?” Robert asked, fetching a cloth to wipe Julian’s face.

“Below. In the violet gloves. She wore a veil.” Julian continued to shake. “I knew her voice.”

“How could you have?” Robert asked.

“I think it was Barbara,” Julian continued. “I think it was my sister.”

Robert froze. He inhaled deeply.

“No, Sir,” Robert smiled. “It couldn’t have been Lady Barbara.”

“I think I’d know my own sister’s voice.” Julian answered.

“Julian, I mean no disrespect, but I doubt you even know your own voice.” Robert said gently.

“Whatever do you mean by that insolent remark?” Julian said with uncharacteristic irritability.

“Julian,” Robert began.

Suddenly, Julian rushed toward Robert, pinning him to the wall.

“Oh, no!” Julian’s mouth formed the words of another. “Don’t you tell him. Not now. No. He mustn’t know now! Where’s my stick?”

Robert laughed, unfazed. He pushed Mr. Punch aside and carefully sat him down on the narrow bed.

“Very well, Punch.” Robert said courteously. “But, he will find out eventually.”

“When I say so.” Punch spoke through Julian. “I am in command.”

“But, Mr. Punch,” Robert smiled. “Is that fair?”

“I’ll make it worth your while to keep silent.” Punch narrowed Julian’s eyes. He removed the blue diamond from Julian’s hand, offering the ring to Robert.

“Really, Mr. Punch?” Robert grinned. “I’m listening.”


Did you miss Chapters 1-17? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday, August 16 for Chapter 19 of Punch’s Cousin.