Punch's Cousin, Chapter 22

Julian pressed his lips together and shook his head quickly from side to side. He grunted at Arthur who continued to hold the spoon full of malodorous syrup near Julian’s mouth.


“It won’t be so bad, Sir.” Arthur hissed. “Just a quick couple of swallows and I’ll go and fetch you some chocolates from the dining hall. You like chocolates don’t you, Sir? All nice and sweet…”

“Don’t speak to me as if I were a child.” Julian said, turning abruptly to the wall.

Arthur grabbed Julian by the shoulder and turned him around. The sharpness of the motion frightened Julian and he lost his footing staggering toward the bed.

Julian caught himself on the narrow bed and sat down.

“That’s right, Sir.” Arthur grinned with his bile-yellow teeth. His eyes flashed. “You get some rest. If you don’t want chocolates, I’ve no doubt I can find something else to take the taste out of your mouth.”

The room spun around Julian’s head as Arthur approached. The deep wood of the cabin walls—ebony and maple—twirled into a gentle blackness which bled into Julian’s thoughts. His muscles went limp as the dark flooded into him, absorbing into every fiber of his soul like coffee into bread.

Suddenly, Julian’s body rose. “You won’t get me, Devil.”

“Lord Fallbridge?” Arthur said, stepping backward.

“No, you won’t. I know how you are. You’re one of them devils what eats little boys. I won’t be eaten.” Mr. Punch spoke through Julian.

“Sir?” Arthur said.

Punch made Julian’s arms grab the oil lamp from the table near the bed. He raised it above his head.

“I’ll take the taste from your mouth, footman.” Punch laughed. “All you’ll taste is blood.”

Arthur dropped the spoon which clattered to the floor, sending oily droplets of the fetid mixture to the floor.

The cabin door rattled as Robert Halifax opened it with his key.

“Here!” Robert said, startled. “What is this?”

“This man,” Punch said, “He’s trying to give us some medicine. Something he says you told him to do.”

“I did no such thing.” Robert growled.

“Musta done.” Punch narrowed Julian’s eyes.

“No.” Robert said firmly.

“But, you did, Sir.” Arthur pleaded. “In the passage. You did.”

“Arthur, please leave. I’ll speak with you later.” Robert ordered the man.

Arthur skittered from the cabin like a rat caught in the scullery.

Alone with Julian, and Punch, Robert spoke gently.

“Trying to poison us?” Punch said, still holding the lamp above his head.

“No. I am not.” Robert said, kneeling down to study the unctuous mixture which had splattered on the floor. He put his index finger into its slickness and, then, smelled it. “I’ve no idea what this is.”

“I’m sure that you don’t.” Punch laughed sarcastically.

“Mr. Punch, do put the lamp down. I mean you no harm.” Robert said, taking a step toward the writing desk and sitting in its chair. He picked up a napkin from the tray and wiped his hand. “Let’s have some sandwiches. Shall we?”

Punch put the lamp down on the table by the bed. “You expect me to believe that you and that man aren’t thick? Trying to hurt us.”

“I have no intention of harming you or Julian. Or, anyone else.”

“Why, then, are you here? Why have you made us your mission? For all of your mystery and your tales of murderous whores, you’ve yet to say what has brought you to this ship. Have you come to mislead us? To mistreat us? Perhaps you, Doctor, are the murderous whore. Some ‘Elegant Ogre.’”

“I recognized you on deck. I knew of your sister and her plans. I wanted to help you.” Robert explained calmly.

“So you followed us on the ship?”

“No, Punch. I was making the journey already. My brother, Cecil, lives in New Orleans. His wife just bore him a son. They call him ‘Fuller.’ I am on my way to see my nephew. Our meeting was pure chance. I saw an opportunity to assist you, and I seized it.”

“Your brother.” Punch grumbled. “I suppose he’s a physician, too?”

“No. He’s a sculptor. He creates figures of wax. Effigies such that Madame Tussaud makes. You’ve been to the Baker Street Bazaar, haven’t you? You know the sort of sculptures I mean.”

Punch squinted at the doctor.

“Cecil creates these wax tableaus for an exhibition in New Orleans run by a man named Cage—some pompous oaf from a small town called Marionneaux.” Robert continued.

Punch sat Julian’s body on the bed.

“Hollow men of wax. Men with empty heads like mine once was.” Punch said softly. “My head’s been split, you know. The agony is something horrible.”

“Perhaps my brother can help you.” Robert responded in a gentle voice.

“Pass me one of them sandwiches, will you?” Punch asked.

Robert handed a plate to Punch. “Good. Lord Fallbridge needs his strength.”

“I’m doin’ it for me-self.” Punch said with a mouthful of chopped egg and dark bread.

“I don’t suppose you can send Lord Julian back to me, now?” Robert asked cautiously.

“This isn’t some parlor trick to be brought about at your will!” Punch spat.

“My apologies.” Robert nodded.

“’Sides, you need me right now. Julian isn’t in a way that he can be good to anyone.” Punch continued. “My master is weary. He needs for me to take up the fight.”

“Would you have harmed Arthur?” Robert asked.

“Wouldn’t he have deserved it?” Punch grinned.

“Perhaps.” Robert sighed.

“Presently, that odious valet isn’t our concern.” Punch said, still munching on sandwiches.

“What is?” Robert raised an eyebrow.

“That woman. She’s the one what wants silencing.”

“Which woman?” Mr. Halifax asked.

“The one what caused me to come about in the first place. I guess you could call her my mother.” Punch laughed. “She’s aboard this ship. And, I mean to ensure that her breast fills with the sea.”


Did you miss Chapters 1-21?  If so, you can read them here.