"No," Kit said, "but I've heard about this place. My associates have told me stories of its mechanical wonders, its enormous library, and the gourmet meals the islanders prepare. Why, the day before I met you, Baudelaires, I shared Turkish coffee with an associate who was saying that he'd never had better Oysters Rockefeller than during his time on the island. You must be having a wonderful time here."
" Janiceps," Sunny said, restating an earlier opinion.
"I think this place has changed since your associate was here," said Klaus.
"That's probably true," Kit said thoughtfully. "Thursday did say that the colony had suffered a schism, just as V.F.D. did."
"Another schism?" Violet asked.
"Countless schisms have divided the world over the years," Kit replied in the darkness. "Do you think the history of V.F.D. is the only story in the world? But let's not talk of the past, Baudelaires. Tell me how you made your way to these shores."
"The same way you did," Violet said. "We were castaways. The only way we could leave the Hotel Denouement was by boat."
"I knew you ran into danger there," Kit said. "We were watching the skies. We saw the smoke and we knew you were signaling us that it wasn't safe to join you. Thank you, Baudelaires. I knew you wouldn't fail us. Tell me, is Dewey with you?"
Kit's words were almost more than the Baudelaires could stand. The smoke she had seen, of course, was from the fire the children had set in the hotel's laundry room, which had quickly spread to the entire building, interrupting Count Olaf's trial and endangering the lives of all the people inside, villains and volunteers alike. And Dewey, I'm sad to remind you, was not with the Baudelaires, but lying dead at the bottom of a pond, still clutching the harpoon that the three siblings had fired into his heart. But Violet, Klaus, and Sunny could not bring themselves to tell Kit the whole story, not now. They could not bear to tell her what had happened to Dewey, and to all the other noble people they had encountered, not yet. Not now, not yet, and perhaps not ever.
"No," Violet said. "Dewey isn't here."
"Count Olaf is with us," Klaus said, "but he's locked up."
"Viper," Sunny added.
"Oh, I'm glad Ink is safe," Kit said, and the Baudelaires thought they could almost hear her smile. "That's my special nickname for the Incredibly Deadly Viper. Ink kept me good company on this raft after we were separated from the others."
"The Quagmires?" Klaus asked. "You found them?"
"Yes," Kit said, and coughed a bit. "But they're not here."
"Maybe they'll wash up here, too," Violet said.
"Maybe," Kit said uncertainly. "And maybe Dewey will join us, too. We need as many associates as we can if we're going to return to the world and make sure that justice is served. But first, let's find this colony I've heard so much about. I need a shower and a hot meal, and then I want to hear the whole story of what happened to you." She started to lower herself down from the raft, but then stopped with a cry of pain.
"You shouldn't move," Violet said quickly, glad for an excuse to keep Kit on the coastal shelf. "Your foot's been injured."
"Both my feet have been injured," Kit corrected ruefully, lying back down on the raft. "The telegram device fell on my legs when the submarine was attacked. I need your help, Baudelaires. I need to be someplace safe."
"We'll do everything we can," Klaus said.
"Maybe help is on the way," Kit said. "I can see someone coming."
The Baudelaires turned to look, and in the dark they saw a very tiny, very bright light, skittering toward them from the west. At first the light looked like nothing more than a firefly, darting here and there on the coastal shelf, but gradually the children could see it was a flashlight, around which several figures in white robes huddled, walking carefully among the puddles and debris. The shine of the flashlight reminded Klaus of all of the nights he spent reading under the covers in the Baudelaire mansion, while outside the night made mysterious noises his parents always insisted were nothing more than the wind, even on windless evenings. Some mornings, his father would come into Klaus's room to wake him up and find him asleep, still clutching his flashlight in one hand and his book in the other, and as the flashlight drew closer and closer, the middle Baudelaire could not help but think that it was his father, walking across the coastal shelf to come to his children's aid after all this time. But of course it was not the Baudelaires' father. The figures arrived at the cube of books, and the children could see the faces of two islanders: Finn, who was holding the flashlight, and Erewhon, who was carrying a large, covered basket.
"Good evening, Baudelaires," Finn said. In the dim light of the flashlight she looked even younger than she was.
"We brought you some supper," Erewhon said, and held out the basket to the children. "We were concerned that you might be quite hungry out here."
"We are," Violet admitted. The Baudelaires, of course, wished
that the islanders had expressed their concern in front of Ishmael and the others, when the colony was deciding to abandon the children on the coastal shelf, but as Finn opened the basket and the children smelled the island's customary dinner of onion soup, the children did not want to look a gift horse in the mouth, a phrase which here means "turn down an offer of a hot meal, no matter how disappointed they were in the person who was offering it."
"Is there enough for our friend?" Klaus asked. "She's regained consciousness."
"I'm glad to hear it," Finn said. "There's enough food for everyone."
"As long as you keep the secret of our coming here," Erewhon said. "Ishmael might not think it was proper."
"I'm surprised he doesn't forbid the use of flashlights," Violet said, as Finn handed her a coconut shell full of steaming soup.
"Ishmael doesn't forbid anything," Finn said. "He'd never force me to throw this flashlight away. However, he did suggest that I let the sheep take it to the arboretum. Instead I slipped it into my robe, as a secret, and Madame Nordoff has been secretly supplying me with batteries in exchange for my secretly teaching her how to yodel, which Ishmael says might frighten the other islanders."
"And Mrs. Caliban secretly slipped me this picnic basket," Erewhon said, "in exchange for my secretly teaching her the backstroke, which Ishmael says is not the customary way to swim."
"Mrs. Caliban?" said Kit, in the darkness. "Miranda Caliban is here?"
"Yes," Finn said. "Do you know her?"
"I know her husband," Kit said. "He and I stood together in a time of great struggle, and we're still very good friends."
"Your friend must be a little confused after her difficult journey," Erewhon said to the Baudelaires, standing on tiptoes so she could hand Kit some soup. "Mrs. Caliban's husband perished many years ago in the storm that brought her here."