Page 23 of The Voice of Wild Places
Cornelius wanted to assault Watt with every question he’d been withholding for the last seventeen years.He wasn’t angry anymore—no, that was a lie.He was angry, and probably always would be.But he was tired, too.
Tired of wondering.Of wandering.
Of asking himself, what did I do wrong?
Later, long after the men had turned in and darkness had settled in the suite, Cornelius answered Watt.
Cornelius whispered deep into the pillow, where only he could hear the truth.“Please.Please, smile at me.”
March 29th, 1930
Watt roused for the day earlier than he normally did, and found it was impossible to return to sleep.He cleaned up and dressed quietly, then took Maggie for a walk.By the time he returned from taking Maggie below decks to relieve herself, Cornelius was awake.
He sat in one of the easy chairs, wrapped in a dressing gown and hair mussed from sleep.His cane was propped against his chair, and an unlit cigarette was pinched between his lips.There was something different about him this morning, but Watt couldn’t say what.
Cornelius quietly said, “Good morning,” which further marked the encounter as suspicious.
“Good morning,” Watt said.He’d already dressed for the day, but felt wrong-footed all the same.He hesitated for only a moment before taking a seat beside Cornelius.With last night’s conversation in mind, he gave Cornelius a small, practiced smile and asked, “How’re you feeling?”
Cornelius groaned, rubbing his temple.“I’ve certainly been better.I don’t think the sea has ever treated me so unkindly before.”
Watt did not suggest that perhaps it had been the combination of alcoholandthe sea.“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, thank you,” Cornelius replied absently, watching Maggie circle a few times before settling on the floor beside her master’s feet.Cornelius rubbed at his eyes, highlighting his lack of glasses.Hesitantly, he said, “If I remember correctly, you said last night that you wanted to discuss things?”
Watt inclined his head.“I did, but if you don’t mind, after coffee.”
Cornelius’ shoulders loosened.“Oh.Yes, that would be good.”
Watt stood, and in turn Maggie did as well.Watt caught Cornelius watching her and encouragingly said, “She’s friendly, you know.”
Cornelius cleared his throat.“I don’t want to distract her.”
Watt smiled and said, “it’s fine,” which really meant,‘I’m fine.’
Cornelius looked up at Watt, a brow raised at his casual tone.The moment stretched, and Watt thought perhaps the ice would break between them.But in the end Cornelius said nothing, nor did he reach out to Maggie.He excused himself in order to get dressed for the day, and Watt set about securing coffee.
He spoke with the valet, Jones, who agreed to deliver coffee and breakfast to their room.Watt didn’t feel like dining in the societal hall, and he doubted that Cornelius did either.On the rare occasions Watt endured a hangover, he found a heavy breakfast and solitude was the best aid.He further busied himself by gathering the necessary paraphernalia from his suitcase and meticulously laid it all out on the sitting room table, mentally repeating the names of everything like a chant.
Journal.
Pencil.
Up to date maps of the area.
Protractor.
Ruler.
When there was nothing left to do, Watt took a seat and glanced at the closed door to the bathroom.He listened, surprised to hear the distinct tap of a razor.After another minute, he retrieved his sketchbook from his pocket and began to doodle in it.Cornelius rejoined him, cane in hand and smartly dressed.He wore an outfit not dissimilar to the one he boarded the ship in yesterday.Casual trousers, long sleeve shirt, and suspenders.His face had a certain freshly tended to glow about it.
Watt smoothly closed his book and set it off to the side, tucking the extra pencil beside it.“I requested for breakfast to be delivered.”He braced himself for Cornelius’ potential annoyance.
The other man simply nodded, surveying the materials spread out on the table.Cornelius had a journal, a pile of papers, and a folded map of his own tucked close to his chest.He set them down into a haphazard stack and reached for Watt’s hand drawn map of Mato Grosso.He'd traced over the original, which he preferred to keep for safekeeping.Better to run his copy ragged instead of the original.He'd done the same for his map of Brazil and the surrounding states.Just before touching it, Cornelius paused and looked up to him for permission.“May I?”
“Of course.”
Cornelius picked up the map and unfolded it, laying it out on the table over everything else.Watt shifted in his seat at this, but said nothing.Cornelius’ eyes narrowed as he studied the paper, and his wire-rimmed glasses were perched back upon his nose.Cornelius donned a wrist watch, which glinted as his fingers traced over several key points in their upcoming journey.
