Peter and the Sword of Mercy (17 page)

They reached the harbor, where a dozen ships were tied alongside the quay, tended by a ragtag group of dockworkers. Wendy and Ted walked to the end of the quay and stopped, looking out toward the North Sea.

“Now what?” said Wendy.

“Now you call out to them,” said Ted. “In Porpoise.”

Wendy eyed the murky dark green water doubtfully. “Are you sure they’re here?” she said.

“Oh yes,” said Ted. “I confirmed it with a biologist at the university. The common harbor porpoise is sighted here regularly.”

A red-faced, white-haired man, apparently a dockworker taking a break, ambled up, puffing on a pipe.

“If it’s the ferry you want,” he said, “you don’t get it here.”

“Thank you, but we’re not waiting for the ferry,” said Wendy. She hoped the man would go away, but he simply stood there, watching them and puffing.

“Go ahead, then,” Ted urged Wendy.

With a sigh, Wendy turned to the water. She had practiced the sequence of sounds the night before. If she remembered her mother’s lessons correctly, what she would be saying, in Porpoise, was:
Please come. Friend.

She took a breath, then emitted a series of squeaks, chirps, and chitters. When she was done, she stared at the water, praying the dockworker had left.

“What’s she doing there, mate?” said the man, who had, in fact, moved closer and was also staring at the water.

“She’s calling a porpoise,” said Ted.

Wendy moaned in embarrassment.

“A porpoise?” said the man.

“Yes,” said Ted. “Try again, Wendy.”

“But…”

“Go on,” said Ted. “We’ve come all this way.”

Wendy again squeaked, chirped, and chittered at the water. Again, nothing happened. Now, to Wendy’s further embarrassment, a second dockworker, apparently a friend of the first, ambled up.

“What’s this?” he asked his friend.

“This girl,” said the first man, pointing at Wendy, “is talking to the porpoises.”

“Is she, now?” said the second man. “I do that myself sometimes.”

“True,” said the first. “But only when you’ve been drinking.”

Ignoring this, the second man looked at the water and said, “They don’t seem to be answering.”

“Apparently not,” said Wendy, now utterly mortified. She turned to Ted and said, “Please, let’s go.”

“But don’t you think we should—”

“No,”
said Wendy, turning away. “Let’s just go.”

“All right,” sighed Ted, following. “I suppose it was—”

“Ahoy, there! Here, now,” said the first man, looking at the water.

Ted and Wendy stopped.

“What is it?” said Ted.

“It’s a porpoise, is what it is,” said the first man.

“Hello, porpoise!” said the second man.

Wendy and Ted hurried back to the edge of the quay and looked down. Directly below them was the grinning face of a harbor porpoise, its sleek silver-gray body almost halfway out of the water.

“Wendy!” said Ted. “You did it!”

“I did!” said Wendy, amazed. “Hello!” she called to the porpoise.

“I tried that,” said the second man. “He don’t answer.”

“Oh, right,” said Wendy. She took another breath, concentrating hard, and emitted a brief series of sounds that meant—she hoped—
Hello.

The porpoise looked at her with interest, then, sounding much like Wendy, responded,
Hello.

“Uncle Ted!” she cried. “He answered me!”

“Excellent!” said Ted.

“What did he say?” asked the first man.

“Please, let me think,” said Wendy.

“Why would he say that?” said the second man.

“No, I…never mind,” said Wendy. She frowned, concentrating on the dialogue she had practiced. It was important, with porpoises, to observe certain formalities.

Pointing at herself, she said,
Name Wendy.

The porpoise said,
Name Foo. Wendy want fish?

No thank you,
said Wendy. She then tried to say “Wendy not want fish,” but she put three clicks where there should have been two, so what she said was
Wendy not jellyfish.

Wendy not jellyfish,
agreed Foo, adding,
Foo not jellyfish.

Wendy took a deep breath. This was the important part.

Wendy want talk porpoise,
she said.

Foo porpoise,
said Foo.

No,
said Wendy.
Wendy want talk porpoise name …
She turned to Ted and said, “I’ve forgotten the porpoise’s name.”

“Ammm,” said Ted.

Wendy told Foo,
Wendy want talk porpoise name Ammm.

Ammm,
repeated Foo.

Yes,
said Wendy. Foo
know Ammm?

No,
said Foo.

Wendy’s shoulders slumped.

But then Foo said, Foo
find Ammm?

Yes!
said Wendy.
Foo find Ammm!

Foo
find porpoise find porpoise find porpoise find Ammm,
said Foo.

Thank you,
said Wendy. Foo
bring Ammm here?

Yes,
said Foo.
Two suns, come here.

Wendy frowned, and was about to say something. But Foo, with a flash of his powerful tail, was gone.

“Oh dear,” said Wendy.

“What?” asked Ted and both dockworkers simultaneously.

“Well,” said Wendy, “he said he would find Ammm. Actually, what he said was he would find porpoise find porpoise find porpoise find Ammm, but I think he means that’s how they communicate over distance, one porpoise calling to another.”

“Excellent!” said Ted.

“But I’m not sure what he meant at the end,” said Wendy. “I asked him if he would bring Ammm here, and he said something about ‘two suns.’ Could he have meant Sunday after next?”

“Porpoises don’t have Sundays,” said the second dock-worker, sounding quite sure of himself.

Reluctantly, Wendy said, “I imagine that’s true.”

“Day after tomorrow!” said Ted. “The ‘next sun’ is tomorrow, so two suns is day after tomorrow.”

“That makes sense,” said Wendy. “But what
time
day after tomorrow?”

“Porpoises don’t have watches,” noted the first dock-worker.

Ignoring him, Ted, said, “I suppose we’ll just have to come in the morning and wait.”

“I suppose so,” sighed Wendy. “I wish I could do something to make things go faster.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Wendy,” said Ted. “You’ve done amazingly well. Speaking Porpoise! Very clever! You really do remind me so much of your mother. But I suppose you hear that all the time.”

Wendy stared at the water, her heart suddenly heavy.

“Yes,” she said softly. “All the time.”

Ted found them rooms at a nearby seaside inn. He spent the next day exploring Harwich, but Wendy was in no mood for sightseeing. In the morning she posted a letter to Mrs. Blotney, saying that she was well, and unsure of her plans, but planning to be away at least another night. (It occurred to her that the letter would be postmarked Harwich, rather than London; she could only hope that Mrs. Blotney wouldn’t notice.) The rest of the day she sat in her room, staring out the window at the gray North Sea and wishing that the endless minutes would tick past faster.

The following morning, after tea and toast, she and Ted were mildly annoyed to find the two dockworkers already waiting for them at water’s edge. Their annoyance turned to excitement when the first man announced, “He’s here. And he’s brought a friend.”

“But they won’t talk to me,” said the second man.

“That’s because you can’t speak Porpoise,” said the first.

“It’s my accent,” said the second.

“No, it’s that you’re speaking English,” said the first.

Pushing past the two arguing men, Wendy and Ted went to the quay’s edge. Wendy called out:

Foo!
Hello!

Almost immediately, Foo’s blunt snout poked out of the water.

Hello, Wendy,
he said. Remembering his manners, he added,
Wendy want fish?

No thank you, Wendy not jellyfish,
Wendy answered. At risk of sounding rude, she plunged ahead, asking,
Foo find
Ammm?

Ammm
here,
said Foo, and as he spoke, a second snout appeared. It belonged to a larger and clearly older porpoise, his body marked by old scars.

Hello,
said Ammm.

Hello,
said Wendy.

Ammm was looking at her. He uttered a short whistle, then a lyrical chirp. Wendy gasped.

“What did he say?” said Ted.

Wendy, still staring at Ammm, answered, “He said, ‘Molly.’”

Molly,
repeated Ammm.

Name Wendy,
said Wendy.
Daughter.

Daughter Molly,
said Ammm.

Yes, said Wendy.

Ammm emitted some squeaks that Wendy recognized as porpoise laughter. He said something that Wendy didn’t understand—something about teeth being green—and laughed some more. Then he turned to study Ted. After several seconds, he said,
Peter friend.

“What did he say?” Ted asked Wendy.

“He said you’re Peter’s friend.”

“My goodness!” said Ted. “He remembers me after all these years! Hello, Ammm!”

Hello Peter friend,
said Ammm, who apparently understood some English. He turned back to Wendy.

Molly here?
he asked.

No,
said Wendy.
Molly trouble.

Bad men,
said Ammm.

Yes,
said Wendy.
Bad men.

Ammm help,
said Ammm.

Foo help,
said Foo.

Thank you,
said Wendy.
Thank you.
She thought about how to say the next part. Her mother had never taught her how to say “Neverland,” so she said,
Ammm know island?

Island,
said Ammm, and then he made a sound Wendy was not familiar with, which she decided must mean “Neverland.”

Yes,
she said.
Ammm know island?

Yes,
said Ammm.

Ammm
take Wendy island?

Island far,
said Ammm.

How far?
said Wendy.

Ammm was silent for a moment, apparently calculating. Then he said,
Loud boat four suns.

“Oh dear,” said Wendy. “I was afraid of that.”

“What?” said Ted.

“He says by loud boat—I assume he means a steamship—it takes four days to get to the island.”

“Well, it
is
a good distance,” said Ted. “I know we sailed for weeks.”

“But we don’t
have
a steamship,” Wendy pointed out.

“True,” said Ted. “We’ll just have to see about hiring one. Although I suspect that will be rather a difficult …”

Wendy was shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I’ve wasted enough time already. My mother needs me. I need to get to the island and persuade Peter to come back with me,
now.”

“But how, Wendy?” said Ted. “Be realistic! You can’t very well
fly
there, now, can you?”

Wendy’s hand touched her mother’s locket.

“Can’t I?” she said.