Punishment to fit the crime

This time the punishment is severe.

It was Effemery himself who found us ... none other of course. Alerted by the howling wails of a certain Miss aboard the ship, he seized the opportunity (as he seizes each and every day) to come dashing magnificently to the rescue.

She was guided, no doubt with appropriate decorum, up the stairs and we, being the lad and I, were hauled up by the ears. Of course I have no evidence to corroborate this fact, since I was wholly unconscious at the time, but the redness of both lobes stands testament to definite manhandling, and this imagined treatment is in line with the man's character.

I'm half-listening to the drone of the captain's voice. His face is purple with rage. A fine net of capillaries mushroom from his nose and cheeks and his eyes are hot coals. Yet I'm not cowered by the sight. I can't explain this indifference; it's simply a vagueness of feeling, a consuming disinterest. My hands dig into my pockets with notable displeasure for everyone and everything around me. Not even Miss Burroughs, with her pristine nose, holds any degree of affection. I am an empty vessel ... no, I'm not ... I'm filled with loathing ... for the sea, for the ship, for the captain, for Effemery, for my father, for the Stoway ... I pause mid-thought.

Inside my right pocket is a velvet pouch. Inside the pouch, something round and solid. As the captain recites his ten commandments of sailing, I carefully lift a corner of the pouch and explore with a forefinger. The tip of my finger brushes a cool hard surface, and an immediate feeling jangles every nerve in my body. I am swung to the other side of emotion. I am elated in a sudden moment, and yet, without understanding why, I snatch my finger back.

Somehow the stone heart has found a way from the lad's finger to the depths of my dry, crumb-filled pocket. In the swift retraction of my forefinger I am once again overcome with dissatisfaction, and immutable displeasure.

'A THIEF!' The captain declares with an explosion of force and, regrettably, I'm drawn back into the room with his alarming statement. 'We shall find a punishment to fit the crime.' He says glowering like a madman. 'Of this you can be certain.'