The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [3]
Until then, Diary...
"Innes, give those bags to the porter, that's what the man's here for; smartly, move along...."
"We've still plenty of time, Arthur," said Innes, lifting a valise.
"No, not the valise; it's got my correspondence, don't let that one out of your sight...."
"I know perfectly well which one is which...."
An elderly porter wrestled their first steamer trunk onto his trolley.
"There's a carriage waiting for us, porter—careful with that footlocker, it's crowded with books." Then, taking Innes aside: "Give the fellow half a crown, not a penny more; these pensioners always make a big show out of struggling with the bags when the truth is they're as fit as a circus strong man— now where the devil is Larry?''
"The train's only just arrived, Arthur," said Innes.
"And he was supposed to be waiting for us here on the platform; drat the man, why send him down a day early if he can't manage to find—"
"Halloo! Halloo, sir! Here we are!"
Larry waving, moving toward them from the station entrance.
Doyle glanced at his watch, grumbling, "We arrived ten minutes ago. On time. Ships have been known to sail off and leave people."
"There's an hour to go yet, Arthur. Look, you can see the ship from here. I honestly think you can relax...." Innes pointed toward the Royal Pier, where the massive double red stacks of the steamship Elbe stood plain against the gray, low-hanging sky.
"I'll relax when we're on board, in our cabin, luggage secured in the hold, and not a moment before," said Doyle, checking tickets and passports for the third time since leaving the train.
"You really are an anxious traveler, aren't you?" said Innes with the smirk reserved for his older brother's more obviously ridiculous behavior.
"Go ahead and laugh; one day you'll miss your train or your ship, and then we'll see if you think I'm quite so amusing; there's a list of potential mishaps that could keep us from our destination that's as long as a lamplighter's candlestick. Arriving somewhere on time is not a matter of good fortune: it is a sheer act of will. Any attitude to the contrary extends an open invitation to the universe to heap disaster upon you indiscriminately, not that it ever needs to be invited...."
"Here we are, sir!"
"'Good Christ, Larry, where have you been? We arrived ages ago."
"Sorry. Absolute devil of a morning, sir," said the short, sturdy Larry, breathless from his upstream swim against the disembarking passengers.
"Oh?" said Doyle, cocking an eyebrow at Innes. "How so?"
"Right; alarm goes off in the hotel at five this morning— bells in your ear, women howling in the halls, all of us mucking about in our woolies—and they won't let us back up to our bunks for nearly three hours; seems some sheik of Araby cooking a curry in his room set the curtains on fire."
"Dreadful," said Doyle, keeping an eye on Innes to chart the impact of Larry's woeful narrative. "What happened then?"
"Everyone late departing the hotel as a result, resultin' in a massive migration down to the station, half an hour's wait to grab a hansom in the carriageway, and even though I precautionary engaged a driver for the day the bugger can't get his rig within a loud shout of the entrance what with the traffic and my eyes can't pick him out of the mix."
"It's a wonder he didn't split an axle."
"Oh, it was a scrum, all right, a regular rugby match," said Larry, who had never once turned down an implied invitation to elaborate. "My driver's nowhere to be spied; I'm about to abandon ship and let down the lifeboats when finally my fella squirts out of the pack, and we're no sooner clear of that fine mess in front of the Ritz when the next thing you know a beer wagon goes bum over teakettle ahead of us on the High Street and nothing can wiggle an eyelash in either direction for two solid blocks."
"Must have taken half an hour to clear the wagon," said Doyle, glancing sideways again at Innes.
"Half an hour easy before we're clear and we're no sooner on