The Grim Grotto (A Series of Unfortunate Events 11)

"He disappeared from the submarine," Fiona replied. "We don't know where he is."

"I don't care where he is," the hook-handed man sneered. "I couldn't care less about that mustached fool! He's the reason I joined Count Olaf in the first place! The captain was always shouting 'Aye! Aye! Aye!' and ordering me around! So I ran away and joined Olaf's acting troupe!"

"But Count Olaf is a terrible villain!" Fiona cried. "He has no regard for other people. He dreams up treacherous schemes, and lures others into becoming his cohorts!"

"Those are just the bad aspects of him," the hook-handed man said. "There are many good parts, as well. For instance, he has a wonderful laugh."

"A wonderful laugh is no excuse for villainous behavior!" Fiona said.

"Let's just agree to disagree," the hook-handed man replied, using a tiresome expression which here means "You're probably right, but I'm too embarrassed to admit it." He waved one hook carelessly at his sister. "Step aside, Fiona. It's time for the orphans to tell me where the sugar bowl is."

Olaf's henchman scraped his hooks together to give them a quick sharpening, and took one threatening step toward the Baudelaires. Violet and Klaus looked at one another in fear, and then at the diving helmet, where they heard their sister give another shuddering cough, and knew that it was time to lay their cards on the table, a phrase which here means "reveal themselves honestly to Olaf's wicked henchman."

"We don't know where the sugar bowl is," Violet said.

"My sister is telling the truth," Klaus said.

"Do with us what you will, but we won't be able to tell you anything."

The hook-handed man glared at them, and scraped his hooks together once more.

"You're liars," he said. "Both of you are rotten orphan liars."

"It's true, Fernald," Fiona said. "Aye! Finding the sugar bowl was the Queequeg's mission, but so far we've failed."

"If you don't know where the sugar bowl is, the hook-handed man said angrily, "then putting you in the brig is completely pointless!" He turned around and kicked his small stool, toppling it over, and then kicked the wall of the brig for good measure. "What am I supposed to do now?" he sulked.

Fiona put her hand on her brother's hook. "Take us back to the Queequeg," she said. "Sunny is in that helmet, along with a growth of Medusoid Mycelium."

"Medusoid Mycelium?" Olaf's henchman repeated in horror. "That's a very dangerous fungus!"

"She's in great danger," Violet said. "If we don't find a cure very, very soon, she'll die."

The hook-handed man frowned, but then looked at the helmet and gave the children a shrug.

"Why should I care if she dies?" he asked. "She's made my life miserable from the time I met her. Every time we fail to get the Baudelaire fortune, Count Olaf yells at everyone!"

"You're the one who made the Baudelaires' lives miserable," Fiona said. "Count Olaf has performed countless treacherous schemes, and you helped him time and time again. Aye! You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

The hook-handed man sighed, and looked down at the floor of the brig.

"Sometimes I am," he admitted. "Life in Olaf's troupe sounded like it was going to be glamorous and fun, but we've ended up doing more murder, arson, blackmail, and assorted violence than I would have preferred."

"This is your chance to do something noble," Fiona said. "You don't have to remain on the wrong side of the schism."

"Oh, Fiona," the hook-handed man said, and put one hook awkwardly around her shoulder. "You don't understand. There is no wrong side of the schism."

"Of course there is," Klaus said. V.F.D. is a noble organization, and Count Olaf is a terrible villain."

"A noble organization?" the hook-handed man said. "Is that so? Tell that to your baby sister, you four-eyed fool! If it weren't for Volatile Fungus Deportation, you never would have encountered those deadly mushrooms!"

The children looked at one another, remembering what they had read in the Gorgonian Grotto. They had to admit that Olaf's henchman was right. But Violet reached into her pocket and drew out the newspaper clipping Sunny had found in the cave. She held it out so everyone could see the Daily Punctilio article that the eldest Baudelaire had kept hidden for so long.

" 'VERIFYING FERNALD'S DEFECTION,' " she said, reading the headline out loud, and then continued by reading the byline, a word which here means "name of the person who wrote the article."

"By Jacques Snicket. It has now been confirmed that the fire that destroyed Anwhistle Aquatics, and took the life of famed ichnologist Gregor Anwhistle, was set by Fernald Widdershins, the son of the captain of the Queequeg submarine. The Widdershins family's participation in a recent schism has raised several questions regarding..." Violet looked up and met the glare of Olaf's henchman. "The rest of the article is blurry," she said, "but the truth is clear. You defected – you abandoned V.F.D. and joined up with Olaf!"

"The difference between the two sides of the schism," Klaus said, "is that one side puts out fires, and the other starts them." The hook-handed man reached forward and speared the article on one of his hooks, and then turned the clipping around so he could read it again. "You should have seen the fire," he said quietly. "From a distance, it looked like an enormous black plume of smoke, rising straight out of the water. It was like the entire sea was burning down."

"You must have been proud of your handiwork," Fiona said bitterly.

"Proud?" the hook-handed man said. "It was the worst day of my life. That plume of smoke was the saddest thing I ever saw." He speared the newspaper with his other hook and ripped the article into shreds. "The Punctilio got everything wrong," he said. "Captain Widdershins isn't my father. Widdershins isn't my last name. And there's much more to the fire than that. You should know that the Daily Punctilio doesn't tell the whole story, Baudelaires. Just as the poison of a deadly fungus can be the source of some wonderful medicines, someone like Jacques Snicket can do something villainous, and someone like Count Olaf can do something noble. Even your parents –"

"Our stepfather knew Jacques Snicket," Fiona said. "He was a good man, but Count Olaf murdered him. Are you a murderer, too? Did you kill Gregor Anwhistle?"

In grim silence, the hook-handed man held his hooks in front of the children.

"The last time you saw me," he said to Fiona, "I had two hands, instead of hooks. Our stepfather probably didn't tell you what happened to me – he always said there were secrets in this world too terrible for young people to know. What a fool!"

"Our stepfather isn't a fool," Fiona said. "He's a noble man. Aye!"

"People aren't either wicked or noble," the hook-handed man said. "They're like chef's salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict." He turned to the two elder Baudelaires and pointed at them with his hooks. "Look at yourselves, Baudelaires. Do you really think we're so different? When those eagles carried me away from the mountains in that net, I saw the ruins of that fire in the hinterlands – a fire we started together. You've burned things down, and so have I. You joined the crew of the Queequeg, and I joined the crew of the Carmelita. Our captains are both volatile people, and we're both trying to get to the Hotel Denouement before Thursday. The only difference between us is the portraits on our uniforms."

"We're wearing Herman Melville," Klaus said. "He was a writer of enormous talent who dramatized the plight of overlooked people, such as poor sailors or exploited youngsters, through his strange, often experimental philosophical prose. I'm proud to display his portrait. But you're wearing Edgar Guest. He was a writer of limited skill, who wrote awkward, tedious poetry on hopelessly sentimental topics. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"Edgar Guest isn't my favorite poet," the hook-handed man admitted. "Before I joined up with Count Olaf, I was studying poetry with my stepfather. We used to read to one another in the Main Hall of the Queequeg. But it's too late now. I can't return to my old life."

"Maybe not," Klaus said. "But you can

return us to the Queequeg, so we can save Sunny."