The Mysterious Birthday Cake

At a time when the Crown's salon was empty and everyone else was either upstairs or in another room, Sir Arthur arrived in the hall. Under his arm was a large white cardboard box, which thankfully he had been able to protect from the rain by his cloak. He wiped his boots on the mat, though he did not bother to remove his cloak or hat - he was not staying, after all.

Quietly he made his way to the salon, which to his relief he found was empty. This would make things a lot easier, as meeting someone would doubtlessly result in conversation and an invitation to stay; and he did not wish to stay here. Not yet. Putting the box down on the table he opened it up and lifted out the contents, setting it neatly in the centre of the table;



Next he set a solitary birthday candle in the top, lit it and blew it out, making his wish. He smiled. From his pocket he took a note he had prepared earlier, set it down beside the cake, then gathered up the empty cardboard box and made his way back to the hall, satisfied that no one had seen him.

Out in the hall he put the box into the rubbish bin, then stepped out into the rain and was gone.

The note simply read;

"I have made my wish, but the cake is yours. Please help yourselves.

AW
1st May '09"

Oxley wandered in and stopped short at the sight of the cake sitting on the table. He walked across to look down at it, being careful not to touch it - it looked like something for the officers' dinner.

He wished, for a moment, that he was an officer, if it meant he could have just a little bit of cake - it looked delicious.

Fletcher had been out in the garden trying to find a sixpence he had dropped earlier (so far without success) when it had started raining. He'd dived into one of the outhouses for shelter, and now that it had eased up a bit made a dash for the back door. He came in through the kitchen, only marginally damp, into the salon to find Oxley staring at a rather delicious-looking chocolate cake on the table. He came nearer to have a look, and saw that it had "Happy Birthday" written on the top in icing.

"Is it your birthday, Oxley?" he asked the Marine.

Oxley jumped at the voice, spinning around and coming to attention as the first thing that registered was the fact that the other boy was wearing a midshipman's uniform. He relaxed marginally as he realised it was Mister Fletcher.

"I didn't touch it, sir!" Only when the words were out of his mouth did he realise what the other boy had asked. "No sir. It was... It was just here, sir." There was a note with it, though as far as Oxley was concerned, it might as well have been written in Chinese.

Fletcher was a little stunned by Oxley's guilt over a cake which did not seem to have been touched by anybody save the person who left it there, but it may well have been just a natural reaction. He seemed to recall he had similiar feelings when asked anything by the Admiral.

"There's a note here," he said, pointing it out and picking it up. "Maybe it'll tell us whose birthday it is."

He read it through, his young brow creasing in a perplexed frown, then looked up at Oxley and put his head to one side thoughtfully.

"It says 'Help yourself', which I think means anyone, and is signed 'AW'. Who is 'AW' do you think?"

Oxey shrugged. "Dunno, sir." What 'dubbelyew' meant, he couldn't fathom. "You sure it said to help ourselves, sir?" he asked, feeling there must be some sort of catch. "Does it say who it means?"

"What's that?" asked a voice behind them. It was Lieutenant Deverel, looking sober and bored.

Couldn't he see what it was? Oxley tried not to roll his eyes as he moved aside. "It's a cake, sir."

"Oh it is, most definitely a cake, sir," Fletcher said, holding up the note to read again out loud. "It's a birthday cake, you see - that's what is says across the top in icing; Happy Birthday - and the note says; I have made my wish, but the cake is yours. Please help yourselves. AW. and is signed with today's date. So whoever AW is they've left us some cake to share."

"Well don't just stand there, lad. Get out your dirk and let's have a piece!" Deverel ordered. "AW. AW. Wilson, Wilkes, Washington, Winthrop, Westmoreland, White, Wall, Worsley... You - drummer. What names start with W hereabout?"

"W...Wesley..." Was that was dubbelyew meant, then? The very first sound of someone's name? He shrugged. "Does it mean for everyone here to share it, sir, or is it just the officers?"

He hoped he could have some; it did look so nice...

"Wesley? Who's Wesley? I don't care. Have your fun. May as well. Haven't you finished cutting there, young lad? Let's have some wine to go with it."

He shrugged. He hadn't even started cutting it yet - he wasn't sure what size pieces to cut. Wine, though... He could manage wine. He found some glasses and a bottle and poured some wine, passing a glass to the Lieutenant.

"D'you want some as well, sir?" he asked, addressing Mister Fletcher.

"Of course," said Fletcher, a little ruffled by Deverel assuming command of the cake, and pulled out his own dirk to start cutting it. He decided on quite thin pieces to start with, to make sure that everyone would get a piece as far as was possible. If there was any spare then there may be a chance of seconds.

"Here you are, Oxley," he said, pointedly handing the first piece to the Marine.

He smiled at the younger boy, a genuine, friendly smile. "Thanks, sir," he said, taking the proffered plate and offering him a wine-glass in turn. "Though... there's other stuff if you'd rather, sir."

"Balls to that. Of course he'll drink wine and so will you," declared the lieutenant before taking a gulp. "Now who's this Wesley you speak of? I haven't met him."

Bush was just walking into the salon when he heard the sound of Deverel's voice and promptly stopped in his tracks. He briefly entertained the notion of turning around and leaving, but he feared it was too late for that. So he simply continued on into the room, taking in the interesting scene before him.

"Where did that cake come from?" he inquired, hoping that this was not some strange joke that Deverel had decided to enact.

"William! Come in. William - that's another W. William, have some cake and fine wine. Do you know a man named Wesley? Apparently it's his birthday and he gave us a cake."

Bush frowned. He really wished Deverel would not insist on referring to him in that aggravatingly informal manner.

"Wesley? No, I don't believe I know him," Bush said. "But I suppose I will have a piece of that cake. And some wine as well."

Deverel seized the dirk from the young midshipman and hacked off a thick slice for himself and another of similar proportions for Bush. "Wonder if there's any women hiding in it, eh?" he said with a wink for his fellow lieutenant. "That would be quite a treat for these young lads, I reckon!"

"I highly doubt they could fit inside it, Mr. Deverel." Bush raised an eyebrow. "Unless they were very, very small..."

"Right. Everyone check your cake for very small ladies," Deverel said earnestly. "Don't want to swallow one by mistake."

Bush resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Don't worry, there are no small ladies inside the cake," he said to Fletcher and Oxley.

Fletcher had come to the sensible conclusion of there being no miniature ladies in the cake long before Deverel had mentioned it and Bush denied it. What worried him was the size of the cake slices Deverel had cut after snatching his dirk.

"No, sir. But, if I might say so, Mr. Bush, we were meaning to be careful with the cake, sir, as even though it is fairly large there are an awful lot of us... and it would be a shame if some didn't get any, sir."

"And it may not necessarily be 'Wesley', sir," he continued, offering the note for Bush to read. "This was left beside it, and it is an 'AW'. Though I don't know who that might be, sir."

"Didn't mean it was someone called Wesley, sir. Only that it might've bin," Oxley said, looking a little nervously at the size of the slices of cake Mister Deverel had cut. "I dunno who it was who left it, neither, sir." He shrugged, wondering if he'd be able to figure it out if he could write. Probably not... but it was a wonderfully delicious cake, and it probably wasn't worth wondering about the identity of whoever had left it.