Snake Bite Read Online Free PDF Page B

developed in England? he wondered. The closest thing England had to a martial art was boxing, and this thing that Wu was
teaching him was so much more effective than boxing. Were there other types of martial art? he wondered. Did other countries have their own, different versions?
    When Sherlock was working he was concentrating so much on his tasks that he could see nothing else around him. But on those occasions when he had some time to himself he sometimes, in the
evening or the early morning, noticed the ship’s captain, Tollaway, standing on the rear deck making observations of the sky. He used a brass device that looked like a cross between a small
telescope and a large set of compasses. He seemed to be observing stars. Sherlock remembered something that he had read once about navigation at sea, and decided that the thing the Captain was
using was a sextant.
    As the ship ploughed on through the waves, the horizon a line that merely separated one shade of blue from another, it was hard to believe that they were making any progress. Maybe the
Gloria
Scott
was sitting stationary on the surface of the ocean, and the sense of movement was an illusion caused by the waves and the feel of the wind on their faces. Only the billowing of the sails
indicated that something was actually propelling them forward.
    Sherlock found himself joining in more and more with the sing-songs in the evening. After the sailors received their ration of watered-down rum – something for which Sherlock found he was
acquiring quite a taste – they would gather together and sing sea shanties. Sherlock’s developing skills at the violin were much in demand – so much so that a sailor everyone
called Fiddler, who had lent Sherlock his instrument, was relegated to the sidelines. Sherlock’s excellent memory meant that he could remember all the words as soon as he heard them, and he
discovered to his surprise that he had a fine baritone singing voice.
    Sherlock found that there were whole stretches of time – hours, in fact – when he didn’t think about home, about Mycroft and about his friends – Amyus Crowe, Matty and
Virginia. Was he coming to terms with his situation, he wondered, or was it just some kind of mental self-protection mechanism – his mind avoiding subjects that were too painful to think
about?
    Sherlock didn’t know how long it was after the storm, but one morning Mr Larchmont called everyone to the stern of the ship, where he stood on the raised area of deck and looked down at
them.
    ‘It’s been a long journey, lads,’ he shouted, ‘and there’re more to go, but the Captain reckons we’re just a spit away from Sumatra now. He intends to dock in
Sabang Harbour. Sumatra is controlled by the Dutch, of course, which at least means that the food will be edible, they’ll take the Queen’s coins and we’ll be able to make
ourselves understood. Some of you have been there before – for those of you that haven’t, all I’ll say is that Sabang is a rat-hole infested with all kinds of tropical diseases
that can rot a man’s fingers and toes off within a day, and that you’re far better off staying on the ship than going ashore. The only thing worse than Sabang is the jungle that covers
the rest of the island. Not that I expect that to stop you from going ashore. We’ll be there for two days, picking up a cargo of coffee beans and taking on a Dutchman as a passenger.’
He gazed around the crew, who had visibly brightened up at the news they would be hitting land soon. ‘That’s all. Back to work, all of you, and hold off on dreamin’ of those
beautiful Sumatran maidens until land is in sight.’ He turned back to the wheelhouse, and Sherlock heard him saying, only slightly less loudly than his previous shouting, ‘Tack five
degrees to starboard and then maintain a steady course.’
    The next day, land was sighted. It started as a dark line fractionally above the horizon, much as the storm had done,