In Search of Goliathus Hercules (20 page)

T
he door to the old apartment opened. Henri took one look at his mother’s face. In an instant he knew that for both of them Father’s absence had created a hole, a gap that could not be filled, a chasm so deep and wide it could not be crossed. A piece of the puzzle that would have made their family whole was missing.

Now, as Henri stood looking across at his mother, he felt like a stranger. They were both older. Henri was twelve years old. It had been two years since he had seen his mother, and four since his father had gone missing. It was a bittersweet reunion because in all the letters that had crossed the ocean, there had always been hope. Father would come home, and they would be together again. They had willed themselves to believe that he would be found, but that had not happened.

Henri looked deep into his mother’s eyes, and to his relief, he still saw hope. They would persevere, keep looking and do whatever needed to be done to locate his father.

Without a word she embraced her son, and they stood clinging to each other for a long time. She did not remark on his appearance. She seemed to be preoccupied with the fact that he was home. Henri was glad he didn’t have to make up an excuse, although he was prepared to if she did ask. He certainly was not going to tell her the truth. She had enough worry in her life already.

With tears in her eyes, she thanked Maestro Antonio for looking after her son. She embraced Robin and Billy and said it had given her great comfort to know that Henri had such good friends.

They sat down to have tea in the dining room. Henri’s mother produced maps of Southeast Asia and British Malaya that they immediately began to pore over. They had been folded and unfolded so often that some were falling apart at the creases. Each map was marked with circles,
X
s, and a few question marks.

“Mrs. Bell, can you explain your notations on the maps?” asked Maestro Antonio.

“Well, the places marked with an
X
are the first I visited. They were obvious places—the plantation where George was employed and the state capital that he visited frequently. The circled locations are places that he had mentioned in letters and postcards, places I knew he visited. I went to all of those too…but nothing,” she said in a defeated voice.

“And the question marks?” asked Henri.

“Those are places that I didn’t visit but would have liked to. They are very remote areas, dense forest into which it just wasn’t possible for me to go alone.”

“Then that’s where we should start!” said Henri. “Mother, we are organizing a scientific expedition in search of
Goliathus hercules
, a mysterious insect that, coincidentally, is found in the same area that Father went missing. Nobody has captured one alive, and we intend to do so. At the same time, we will be looking for Father.”

Maestro Antonio took over and told Henri’s mother of the insect circus they had brought to London and the paper they would be presenting to the British Entomological Society in three months’ time.“ We are…um…or really, I should say, Henri is an expert on all matters to do with insects. With Henri as our leader, no one is better prepared than we are to set out on the quest to find
Goliathus hercules
—and your husband.”

Henri gave her an encouraging smile.

“Well, I insist you all stay here with me while you make your preparations!” said Henri’s mother.

Robin shared a room with Henri’s mother, Billy shared Henri’s room, and Maestro Antonio had the chesterfield in the parlor, which he shared with the insect menagerie. Sometimes at night, Henri could hear the maestro as he tried to shush the peeps and calls of the performers. “Confound it! Can’t a human get some rest? We’re not all nocturnal, you know!”

Next, they set about finding a small theater to present Maestro Antonio’s Amazing Menagerie of Insects—the Greatest Little Show on Earth. It was hard to find a place with the intimacy of the old circus tent, but they were finally able to rent a church basement near Piccadilly Circus. The new space was larger than the old circus tent, and so it was decided they would have to revamp the act, making it even more spectacular than ever.

Maestro Antonio and Henri had decided that their first performance should be by invitation only. Professor Young had written letters of introduction to many of his colleagues in the entomological world. Fifty learned guests in all were invited to see a staggering display of exceptional communication between man and insect. In addition, they had invited reviewers from the three major London newspapers.

Opening night arrived. With everyone seated, the lights dimmed. The synchronous fireflies flew out and spelled the welcoming words:

Next, the fireflies moved into position to form a glowing, floating Union Jack. The insect orchestra began their first number, “God the Save the Queen,” and the entire audience felt obliged to stand. At the conclusion of the song, the fireflies burst into pinwheels, shooting stars, and tumbling cascades of light. The audience burst into thunderous applause.

Then the lights went up to reveal a boldly patterned wall of color. As the music began, the audience could see a figure moving away from the wall that had until now been camouflaged in the pattern—it was a girl entirely covered with butterflies, moths, grasshoppers, and cicadas! As she danced to the music, the winged creatures slowly ascended from her dress and joined her in the dance. Gradually, the patterned wall behind Robin dissolved as other insects took flight, so that they all waltzed around her in a whirlwind of color and magic. As the orchestra reached the last notes of the song, the luna moth rested on her forehead, and other smaller butterflies came to alight upon the top of her head to form a crown. Then Robin made an elegant curtsy and exited the stage with the colorful entourage in her wake.

After that, Henri and Maestro Antonio walked onto the stage to introduce the circus performers. The new aerial acrobatics routine with orange grasshoppers acquired during their stay in Mexico received wild applause. They could fly higher and farther than the flea trapeze artists ever could. Then Billy came out and refereed a wrestling match between a flea and a junebug. Despite the flea’s diminutive size, she won the match when the junebug called out “Uncle!” Maestro Antonio had figured out a way to set up the hearing aid so that it amplified the sound enough that the audience was certain they had heard the junebug give up in defeat.

At the conclusion of the show, Maestro Antonio and Henri stepped forward. In his booming voice, the maestro announced, “Thank you for attending the British premiere of the Greatest Little Show on Earth. It has been our pleasure to entertain you. But friends, we have a bigger mission than this. All of nature’s magic you have witnessed tonight is the result of my colleague Henri Bell’s research and dedication to insect communication.

“In six months’ time we will embark on an expedition to British Malaya to capture and bring back the mysterious
Goliathus hercules
!”

There was an audible intake of breath at this announcement.

Oh, many have sought to find it, but none have succeeded. Well, now I present the only man up to the job: Henri Bell.

“We are looking for sponsorship for our expedition. I invite you to contribute and share in the scientific glory that will come to all associated with our endeavor.”

The next morning the three newspapers reported on the show. Each gave a glowing review. For the next three months, every show was sold out and contributions to the expedition came flowing in. Queen Victoria herself requested a performance of the insect circus at Buckingham Palace. After the show there, she declared herself to be very amused and gave her royal endorsement and support for the expedition.

In early June, Professor Young arrived in London a few weeks before they were to present their paper to the British Entomological Society. Henri and the maestro had already raised enough for their journey to Malaya, but they were anxious for the approval of the scientific community.

Everything was going so well—far better than any of them had dared to hope. There was just one thing that bothered Henri. One evening, as the show concluded and the audience was leaving, Henri spotted a tall woman dressed in black near the back of the theater. She glanced up and smiled. Henri could not see her face, for she wore a mourning veil over her hat, but he recognized the smile immediately.

T
ruth be told, Henri found their paper to the British Entomological Society a bit dull. He and Maestro Antonio had left it to Professor Young to present the information academically. They had made astounding discoveries, but when Professor Young presented it, it was all Henri could do to sit up straight and not nod off in front of the large audience. Maestro Antonio sat beside him with a glazed look on his face.

“As I have previously indicated, my early research noted fourteen distinctive clicks made by
O. disjunctus
,” the professor read. “However, Mr. Bell was able to decipher an additional fifteen, making a total of twenty-nine recognizable and distinct sounds. Used in combination with one another, this gives the species a total of 812 possible phonetic combinations. I shall now begin the elocution of the twenty-nine distinctive clicks. Number one…”And so on and so on, it went.

Nonetheless, the professor’s presentation brought a tremendous round of applause. Now Henri and Maestro Antonio were to give a practical demonstration. They would take requests from the audience who would ask that the insects perform various tasks and maneuvers.

Henri and Antonio rose and stood beside the table next to a tank of various insects waiting to be summoned. They had agreed to speak the language in voices that the audience could hear, although from the insects’ point of view, this was the equivalent of bellowing.

The chairman selected a man in a tall black top hat who introduced himself as Dr. Pratt from the Entomology department at Oxford University.

“Could you please have one of the large scarab beetles fly from the tank and land on the top of my hat?” he asked.

“Sir,” replied Henri. “I could make such a request, but as an entomologist, you yourself will know that these large beetles are not able flyers. I do not believe one could make it the entire distance without stopping to rest. I would recommend that you select another gentleman or lady who would be willing to serve as the midway stopping point before it proceeds to your own hat.”