Sherlock Hong: The Immortal Nightingale Read online

  THE

  IMMORTAL

  NIGHTINGALE

  © 2016 Don Bosco (Super Cool Books) and Marshall Cavendish International (Asia) Pte Ltd

  This book is published by Marshall Cavendish Children in association with Super Cool Books. Marshall Cavendish Children is an imprint of Marshall Cavendish International

  First published 2012 by Super Cool Books

  Cover Illustration by Neo Ann Gee

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Request for permission should be addressed to the Publisher, Marshall Cavendish International (Asia) Private Limited, 1 New Industrial Road, Singapore 536196. Tel: (65) 6213 9300 Email: [email protected] Website: www.marshallcavendish.com/genref

  The publisher makes no representation or warranties with respect to the contents of this book, and specifically disclaims any implied warranties or merchantability or fitness for any particular purpose, and shall in no event be liable for any loss or profit or any other commercial damage, including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, or other damage

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  National Library Board, Singapore Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  Bosco, Don, 1971- author.

  The immortal nightingale / Don Bosco. – Singapore : Marshall Cavendish Children, 2015.

  pages cm. – (Sherlock Hong adventures)

  eISBN: 978 981 4721 61 5

  1. Magic – Fiction. 2. Investigation – Fiction. 3. Teenagers – Fiction.

  4. Singapore – History – 1867-1942 – Fiction. I. Title. II. Series: Sherlock Hong adventures.

  PR9570.S53

  S823 -- dc23 OCN920496728

  Printed in Singapore by Fabulous Printers Pte Ltd

  CHAPTER 1

  My name is Sherlock Hong.

  Some might find this peculiar, but it is the truth, my name is indeed Sherlock, even though my father sometimes denies it and many of my relatives mispronounce it, I suspect on purpose.

  The year is 1891. The month, April.

  It’s a glorious time to be alive. There’s just too much to see and do and investigate. Everywhere and all the time.

  For this reason, I hate being stuck here in Singapore.

  I’m fifteen years old, although inside my head, and also deep in my heart, I often feel very much older.

  I can’t wait to leave home and travel around the world. I want to search for lost treasures and visit forgotten tribes and document strange happenings.

  But that won’t happen for some time, a few years at least, until Father agrees to pay for my adventures, or unless I manage to earn some money myself. Which I am determined to do as soon as possible.

  To be fair, things are tolerable here, at least for now, not as dreadfully boring as I had expected, and you will soon understand what I mean if you continue to read this report.

  This is my first case file. My notes on a most astonishing affair that happened right here in my neighbourhood. Just thinking about the events makes my hands tremble and my heart pound faster.

  No matter how bizarre the situations and complications might appear, please do not think that I’ve lost my mind.

  I solemnly vow that every bit of this account is real.

  I humbly dedicate this piece of work to each and every one of you, brave members of the International Order of Young Seekers, my fellow adventurers, experimenters and champions of justice.

  You’ll be able to judge for yourselves how I’ve applied my intelligence, practised courage and remained true to my sense of justice, so that you might decide if I deserve to be promoted to the Higher Rank of the Order.

  As our grand motto declares:

  The future belongs to the young and brave.

  We begin at the beginning.

  CHAPTER 2

  Lunch was a big bowl of rice with spicy vegetables and also pork stew, which Mother learnt to make from a recipe that she found in a brown book at the Singapore Library.

  I ate quickly. I was famished after digging around at a nearby site the whole morning, searching for the remains of ancient Malay warriors who might have died bravely in battle in this area who knows how many centuries ago.

  This area being River Valley Road, the territory around the well-ventilated but sparsely furnished bungalow belonging to my father which we call home.

  Father being Master Hong, community physician of considerable renown, absent from home for the past few days on account of a young patient in Sumatra requiring his attention desperately.

  When I was almost done with my rice and vegetable and stew, Mother, known throughout our community as the kind and gentle Madam Hong, suddenly remembered something important.

  “Sherlock, your father has sent word that he will be back from Sumatra this very evening. He wants to talk to you urgently. It’s important, and it concerns your future. Please talk to your father and don’t try to hide from him again like you did last week.”

  I had been expecting this, it was just a matter of time, and so I replied with an extremely expressive groan.

  “I know what he wants me to do, Ma,” I said. “But it’s not fair! I don’t like the school at Katong. It’s too far away. And besides, all they do there is copy lines from a book. It’s torture! Shouldn’t I be making better use of my time? Why can’t I stay at home and conduct my experiments?”

  Mother sighed. She touched my arm. But her voice was firm.

  “Sherlock, I wish you’d stop your obsession with alchemy. It won’t get you very far in the world. When we sent you to boarding school in England, you should have behaved and tried to fit in. But you got yourself expelled. And now that you’re back here, you’re kicking up a fuss again. What will we do with you?”

  Before I could open my mouth, she quickly continued, “Your father understands you, and he cares. He thinks you can be a great doctor and help run our family business one day. So he’s engaged a tutor to help you with your studies. You can continue with your lessons at home.”

  Eh? Continue with my lessons at home? I wasn’t expecting this. Good news? Bad news? Too soon to tell.

  “Aargh!” I grunted and clutched at my chest as though there was a great pain inside. “A tutor? I knew it. Pa wishes to imprison me. Make sure I never leave this house!”

  Mother laughed. She pushed her chair back and got ready to leave the table. “He has no such intentions,” she said. “Your new tutor’s name is Miss Priya. She’ll come by later this afternoon to meet you.”

  I raised my eyebrows. So soon? My suspicions were confirmed. I could feel their trap closing in on me.

  Mother continued, “She’s the niece of your father’s friend, Mr Narayanan who used to be headmaster of a big school in India. I don’t know much about her. But your father says she’s an intelligent young lady and she’s kindly agreed to help us out. That’s good enough for me.”

  “But...”

  At that moment, our house maid hurried in. She seemed very upset.

  “Madam Hong,” Ah Mah cried, “you have a visitor. It’s Unc
le Chan’s daughter, Mei. If you don’t help her, she’ll get thrown out of her home and she might end up dead on the streets! You can’t let that happen to her!”

  Mother looked concerned, but as always her voice was calm and steady. “Slow down, Ah Mah, and explain everything slowly. What’s happened to Mei?”

  Ah Mah started to wail. “Her father’s immortal nightingale! It’s dead!”

  CHAPTER 3

  Mother left me to finish my stew and went to join Auntie Mei in the tea room. I didn’t try to follow her, but as quickly as I could, I slipped out into the side garden to inspect our mango trees, and it just so happened that I could hear their conversation through the window.

  An immortal nightingale! My curiosity was definitely aroused. I had been actively looking out for a case to investigate. Could this be it?

  I heard Auntie Mei’s voice. “Four months ago, my father met a Cantonese merchant from China,” she said. “He offered to sell my father a purple nightingale which he claimed belonged to a magical species that would make its owner immortal.”

  I could imagine my mother raising an eyebrow at this. She didn’t believe in magic. Or magical species of any sort.

  Auntie Mei continued, “My father had always loved the folk tale about the great emperor in ancient China who owned a magical nightingale. The emperor believed that when it was his time to die, if he could leave this world listening to the nightingale’s melodious song, his spirit would be instantly lifted away to a celestial kingdom where he could continue his life as a Heavenly Immortal.”

  I heard Mother’s sympathetic sigh. “And so your father bought the nightingale?”

  “He paid a lot for it,” Auntie Mei said. “It became his most precious possession. From that day on, he dreamt about becoming a Heavenly Immortal. It was his obsession. But two days ago, the bird dropped dead in its cage! My father was devastated. That was when my no-good brother Suk suggested a way to bring the dead bird back to life.”

  Mother couldn’t help it, she snorted in contempt. “Bring the dead nightingale back to life? And how will your brother do that?”

  Auntie Mei started to sob. “I don’t know what he’s up to. But it sounds evil and unnatural. I’ve never trusted him. Please help me put a stop to this. My father is old, he’s very ill and he’s already losing his mind. This could make his situation much worse!”

  Mother took some time to think this over. “It’s a private matter,” she said. “You should turn to your other family members for assistance. It wouldn’t be good if I interfered. Besides, what could I do?”

  Auntie Mei answered eagerly, “Perhaps your kind husband could help? Master Hong is friendly with many influential men in our community. If my brother knew they were keeping an eye on him, he wouldn’t dare try any mischief.”

  Mother knew Auntie Mei wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Master Hong will be back later tonight,” Mother said. “I’ll talk to him and see what he can do.”

  Then, with the kind of unexplainable instinct that all mothers seem to have, she suddenly got up and walked to the window.

  “Sherlock!” I heard her call out sternly. “Come out now if you’re hiding there!”

  But of course I wasn’t. Not anymore. I had scrambled away just in time.

  Mother is not the only one in the family with a sixth sense.

  CHAPTER 4

  Ha! I sensed an opportunity! Without hesitation, I abandoned my plans for the rest of the day.

  Step one, I now had a case to officially investigate. The Case of the Immortal Nightingale! Just saying this sent shivers down my spine.

  Step two, I needed an assistant.

  I hurried to the back of our house and went out the gate. Five minutes of brisk walking brought me to a green mansion further down the road. I went around the side and gave three sharp whistles.

  It wasn’t long before Aisha came out. She was my childhood friend, we had grown up together playing in the muddy fields nearby, and our mothers often went into town together. Aisha was carrying a basket of laundry and walking very carefully so that she didn’t get any mud on her clean white frock.

  “Psst!” I called out to her.

  She frowned at me. “What a rude way to greet someone you know! I see that your manners didn’t improve much during your time in England.”

  I rolled my eyes. Aisha wasn’t always like this. When we were younger, she was a lot of fun to be with. We would collect disgusting bugs and climb rambutan trees and steal the steamed cakes that Ah Mah left unattended on the kitchen shelf. But these days, Aisha was turning out to be more and more like my mother.

  Still, she was the best assistant I could hope for at such short notice.

  “I desperately need some information,” I told her. “What do you know about Uncle Chan? Or his son, Chan Suk?”

  Aisha balanced her laundry basket on a big stone. “Uncle Chan? He owns many plantations around the region. In Singapore, Siam and Java. He also donated a lot of money to build schools and hospitals around Singapore. But I hear he’s been very ill. Just the other night, my father said he might not have long to live.”

  “And Chan Suk?” I asked. “What do people say about him?”

  Aisha made a face. “He isn’t liked around here. There are nasty rumours about him. That he does business with pirates and kidnappers and men who operate gambling dens!”

  Aisha suddenly looked over her shoulder, as if afraid that she might be punished for sharing such gossip. “Why are you asking all this?”

  I hurriedly told her about the dead nightingale and what Chan Suk was attempting to do. Before I could finish, I heard a bell tinkle in the distance. It was my mother.

  “Doot!” I exclaimed in dismay. “I think my new tutor is here. Meet me after dinner at the coconut tree down the road. Be prepared to tell me everything else that you know about the Chan family. I’m counting on you!”

  Aisha looked cross. “I don’t have time for silly games! What does this have to do with me, anyway?”

  I bit my lip and tried desperately to come up with a good answer. Could I trust her? Should I tell her about my life-changing experiences in London, how I was initiated into the International Order of Young Seekers, how I later received secret training from an eccentric veteran Seeker at his dark and dusty townhouse in London, and why it was now my pressing mission to investigate and report all paranormal encounters so that I could earn my first achievement badge and eventually get a promotion to the Higher Rank of the Order?

  The bell was ringing again, this time it sounded angry.

  “You’re my best friend, Aisha,” I said over my shoulder as I hurried back to the house. “If you don’t help me, who will?”

  CHAPTER 5

  Miss Priya was a small woman in her late twenties with neat hair and dark piercing eyes. Her fingernails were painted dark red or perhaps it was a shimmery shade of brown. She seldom smiled but her eyes twinkled not with humour but something else I could not describe.

  I fidgeted restlessly in my seat while she tried to have a conversation with me.

  “And what are your interests?” she asked politely. “Do you read? What do you enjoy doing? What would you like to study?”

  I shrugged. My mind was still on the matter of the dead nightingale. From the way Miss Priya watched me quietly, patiently, I suspected that she had some prior experience dealing with students like me.

  She continued speaking in a soft voice. Finally, I gave in and asked her, “Will we be having field trips? I’d like to go to the Botanic Gardens. I hear that there are ghosts living in some of the old trees there. Can we go investigate?”

  Miss Priya smiled. “The Botanic Gardens! I love the place. I can arrange for you to visit Mr Henry Ridley’s laboratory there, where he conducts his wonderful experiments. It’ll be a really good experience for you.”

  Then she reached into her bag and pulled out a thick book. It had a red cover and words on it printed in gold.

  “But that’ll have to wai
t,” Miss Priya said. “For now, we can start with this. It has many valuable lessons to teach you. We will read one chapter every day and discuss the material.”

  Doot! I thought this was just a meeting for us to get acquainted. I wasn’t expecting to do any actual work.

  I reluctantly took the book and checked the title: The Infinitely Profound Sayings of Confucius.

  Doot again!

  “Is this my father’s idea?” I asked her. “I thought he wanted me to be a doctor? Why are we wasting our time with this? Confucius has nothing to teach me!”

  Miss Priya shook her head. “It’s not your father’s idea, it’s mine. And you’re mistaken. Confucius was a brilliant man who understood the hidden mysteries of the world. He tried to pass on his teachings through his books, but unfortunately most people are too ignorant to even give him a chance.”

  Something about the way she said this made me sit up and stare at her. “What do you mean? What hidden mysteries?”

  But Miss Priya refused to elaborate. She opened the book and tapped her finger on the first page. “You can find out for yourself. Pay attention, Sherlock. Begin at Chapter One. Start reading. Now.”

  There was something about her eyes, so mysterious, so timeless, so commanding. A strange feeling came over me. To my surprise, I soon found myself turning the pages of the book quickly, puzzling over the curious phrases inside, and the rest of the lesson went by quickly.

  CHAPTER 6

  After dinner I hurried to the coconut tree, not sure if Aisha would turn up. She was waiting with two banana pancakes in hand and she offered me one.

  She said, “This is what I found out from my aunt. Uncle Chan told his family that he bought the nightingale from a Cantonese merchant. But he was lying. He had actually bought it from a pirate chief. The pirate chief claimed that he had stolen the nightingale from the palace of an Arabian sheikh. It was a magical bird, thousands of years old, and was expected to live for at least another thousand more years. My aunt said that Uncle Chan paid a fortune for it. Enough to buy all the big houses along River Valley Road.”