The Floating Island (29 page)

“What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Gate’s closed.”

From the back of the wagon, Clemency stood on Char’s back to appear as tall as possible and tucked her hands into her sleeves, looking very curate-like.

“Good evening, my son,” she said solemnly. “Please let us in.”

“My
son
?” the guard asked in amazement. “Wha—”

“My name is Clemency, the curate currently assigned to the Crossroads Inn,” Clem went on, looking severely at the guard. “I have a very sick passenger, and I must get into the city now, before it is too late. Pray stand aside, my son, and you will be blessed for your efforts.”

“All right, get out of that wagon, you kids,” the guard replied, pointing to the ground.

“I really don’t have time to argue about this,” Clemency said, politely but firmly. “Please open the gate.”

With a silver
shing,
the guard drew his sword. “I said get out of the wagon,” he said menacingly.

Clemency, whose face was now grim, nodded to Saeli.

Directly behind the guard the ivy vines on the gate suddenly stretched, as if waking from a long sleep, then whipped out, wrapping their long tendrils around the man’s arms and legs, pinning him to the rocky wall.

“What the—hellpgghfff!—” the man gurgled as the ivy tied itself around his mouth.

Ven and Char leapt out of the wagon and ran to the gate, hauling the portcullis up. Ven tried not to look at the terrified guard, who was now sprouting leaves from every part of his body.

“Heave! Heave! Pretend we’re hoisting sails!” he called to Char, who nodded and put his back into the effort. The portcullis glided up easily into the stone of the gate.

“Come on!” Ven called to Saeli.

“May you have a blessed evening, my son,” Clemency said as they passed through the gate. The guard stared helplessly as the wagon rattled by. Char and Ven lowered the portcullis again, then ran back for the wagon and hopped in.

The gate guard struggled for a moment, then stopped in amazement.

A large daisy had appeared from within the vines under his nose.

They drove out the northern side of the wharf, where the cobblestone streets were replaced by paths of packed sand and shells. The wind blew in gusts, pushing the clouds along in the sky, rippling over the waves of the dark ocean they could see beyond the sandy streets.

When they came to the same abandoned pier where he and Char had once flown the kite, Ven told Saeli to bring the horses to a halt. The wagon rolled to a stop. While the other children were catching their breath, Ven climbed down onto the beach.

“Stay here a minute,” he said, then jogged out to the end of the deserted pier, taking care to avoid the holes in the wood above the water.

Ven looked out into the sea, watching the gentle, constant pattern of the waves as they rolled onto the shore, foaming quietly as they slipped back again into the sea. He reached up to his cap and ran his fingers along the albatross feather, his luck token.

“A
MARIEL!” VEN SHOUTED OVER THE ROLLING SEA. “AMARIEL! ARE
you out there?”

Only the waves answered him, their gentle splashing swallowing the sound of his voice.

Ven waited impatiently for a while, but when there was no sign of the merrow he called again.

“Amariel!”

The silver light of the moon rippled out in the harbor. Ven squinted, but saw no further movement. “Amari—”

The merrow’s head popped up in the water directly below him. She looked displeased.

“Stop that!” Amariel commanded. “You’re waking everyone up, and since you’re using my name, they’ll blame me. What do you want?”

Ven sighed in relief. “Who’s everyone?” he asked, his curiosity roaring back like a wildfire.

The merrow flipped her hair, showering him with a curtain of salt spray.

“The seals and the sea lions, the pelicans asleep on the buoys and pier posts—and the merrows and selkies, thank you very much. Why are you shouting?” Her green eyes gleamed brightly in the moonlight. “Have you come to explore the depths with me?”

“No,” Ven said urgently, “I wish I could, but tonight I need your help. A friend of mine is disappearing, and I have to get out past the harbor and into the open sea. Can you help me?”

The merrow’s forehead wrinkled visibly.

“That made absolutely
no
sense,” she said.

“I know, I know,” Ven said. “But can you help me?”

Amariel thought. “Yes,” she said after a moment, “I suggest you find a boat.”

“Well, yes, I know that, I meant—”

The merrow dove and vanished.

Ven watched the water for a while, then sighed dispiritedly. He looked up and down the waterfront, then went back to the wagon.

“All along the beach there are abandoned boats, some of them little more than driftwood,” he told the others. “We have to find one that will hold us—if we can’t, we’re going to have to borrow one from the fishing village, and that could get ugly.”

“Isn’t that also known as
stealing
?” Clem asked disapprovingly.

“Yes, so let’s find one nobody wants anymore if we can,” said Ven. He turned to the vanishing girl in the back of the wagon. “Ida, stay here with Saeli. Char, Clem, and I will be back as soon as we can.”

“Only an hour or so till midnight, Polywog,” Ida said nervously.

“I know—we’re doing our best, Ida,” Ven said. “Try not to worry; it seems to make you fade faster.”

“Talkin’ does, too,” Char added as the three of them headed off down the beach. “You should prolly avoid that as well. Even
after
we fix you.”

“Perhaps you can explain to me exactly what your plan is, Ven,” Clemency said as they hurried up and down the rocky beach, looking for cast-off boats.

Ven stopped and pointed out into the vastness of the sea along the jetty, where the tall light tower he had seen from the
Serelinda
’s deck stood, its great lantern sending an enormous circling beam into the darkness.

“We need to be out there, past the harbor, in the open sea,” he said, brushing back the hair the wind had blown into his eyes. “If we can get out there, I believe I can call the Floating Island—and it should come.”

“It took
days
to come the last time,” Char reminded him. “And how long do ya think we’re gonna survive in a rickety little boat that no one wanted anymore, out on the open sea?”

“Long enough,” Ven said. “Come on, Char, we know what we’re doing.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Char, “I’m a
cook’s mate,
in case you’ve forgotten. And a bloody
bad
one at that.”

“You’re also a sailor,” said Ven. “And a bloody
good
one at that.” He turned to Clem. “You’ve been keeping Ida alive and in line for a very long time now—without you as her steward, she would be on the street. You may be a curate-in-training, but you have the wisdom of a real one already. And while I may never have been good enough to merit a specialty in my father’s factory, I know what makes a sound ship. We don’t have any choice. Ida put her life at risk because we asked her to. The least we can do is risk ours trying to save her.”

“Agreed,” said Clem, smiling.

Char sighed. “All right. Let’s get on with it, then.”

The three split up and ran down the beach, checking each abandoned sloop and rowboat they could find. Finally, after looking at every boat the three of them had located, Ven bent down next to a green-bottomed longboat encrusted with barnacles that Clem had located, half-buried in the sand near the abandoned pier.

“I think we found our vessel,” he said, ignoring the doubt on Char’s face. “It has no oars, but we can gather them from some of the others. The hull is solid, the mast seems intact, once we clear the wasps’ nests off it, and the sail only has a few holes. It should get us out of the harbor at least.”

“We’re gonna die, you know that, right?” Char said.

“Eventually,” said Ven, “but not tonight, if we’re lucky. Here, help me dig it out.”

“Where did this sudden burst of confidence come from?” Clemency asked as she helped burrow the sand away from the sides of the boat. “Last I knew, you didn’t even want to face your own family if you went home. What made you suddenly so decisive?”

“Necessity,” Ven said, tunneling through the rocks and seaweed around the hull.

When the boat was finally unearthed, the mast lifted and the sail rigged, Ven looked pleased.

“All right,” he said, “I think we need to christen her, and then we can set out.”

“
Christen
her?” Char and Clem asked in one voice.

“Yes—the only unnamed ship I ever sailed on met an unfortunate end. I think there is something to that naming science McLean practices. If we name our boat something good, something hopeful, maybe it will survive the open sea.”

“How about the
Rescue
?” suggested Clemency.

“Good enough for me,” said Ven. “Go ahead, Clem.”

“Let’s get the others first,” said Char, heading back to where they had left Saeli and Ida.

When all the children and the horses were gathered on the beach, the boys dragged the sad-looking longboat to the water’s edge, and Clemency solemnly poured sea water over the prow.

“Bow your heads,” she directed. Everyone but Ida followed her direction. “We name this boat the
Rescue,
because it is going to carry us safely out of the harbor and onto the open sea, to the Floating Island and back in time to save Ida from becoming a Revenant.”

“Amen,” said Char.

“Hear, hear,” added Ven.

Saeli just looked nervous.

Ida, now barely visible, said nothing.

“All right, then,” Ven said. “All aboard and I’ll cast us off.” He caught Char’s eye; the cook’s mate was nodding at the tiny Gwadd girl.

She was trembling like the wind was running through her.

“Saeli, are you all right?” Ven asked. The little girl shook her head violently. “Are you afraid?” She nodded, equally violently.

He looked around at the dark beach. “Would you feel better staying behind and watching the horses?” Saeli nodded again. “All right, then, hide in the wagon and wait for us. We need the lantern, though—will you be all right in the dark?” Saeli nodded. Clemency helped her up onto the wagon board, and the Gwadd girl slid into the cart, peeking nervously over the side.

“Let’s cast off,” Ven directed. “Everyone who’s going, get in the boat. Clem, you and Ida in the middle, Char, you take the tiller. I’m going to man the sail.”

Sweaty with nervous excitement, they climbed in one by one, first Clemency, who made the boat rock violently back and forth as she took her place amidships, then Ida, whose entry did not disturb it at all, and finally Char, who took up his place in the stern, the tiller in his hand. Ven waded into the whispering surf, set the lantern in its place on the prow, and grabbed the tow rope.

“Weigh anchor, Char,” he said.

Char pulled the rusty anchor into the ragged boat. “Anchor’s aweigh, sir.”

“Hold tight,” said Ven as he climbed into the bow of the boat. The
Rescue
shuddered as he came aboard, causing the others to grab hold quickly. “Man the oars—let’s get out of the surf before I hoist the sail.”

The others nodded and reached for their oars. Ida grabbed for one but her hands passed through it. After a moment she set her jaw and looked sternly ahead, no other expression on her face. Together the rest of them paddled, pushing against the incoming tide, bobbing up and down on each wave that came in.

Getting nowhere.

“I—I don’t think this is working,” Clemency said uncertainly, looking over the side of the boat as it backed closer to the beach.

“Paddle faster,” Char muttered, putting his back into it. “The bilge is startin’ to leak in already.”

Ven struggled with the oar, pulling as hard as he could. Just as he let go and sat back to think, the boat shuddered, then lurched forward with a violent yank. The four children rocked back and forth like bottles tumbling from a shelf.

Ven grabbed the side as the
Rescue
listed forward again, then began to head out of the harbor, without any aid from the oars at all. He rose up on one knee and looked out over the prow.

In the shadows of the lantern on the waves he could see Amariel’s head and shoulders, bobbing in the sea in front of him. Ven grinned and opened his mouth to call to her, but the merrow quickly raised her finger to her lips, then dove down into the waves, the scales of her multicolored tail flashing in the lanternlight as it disappeared.

The boat gave one final lurch, and then started to head smoothly out of the harbor.

“I’m going to hoist the sail,” Ven said quickly. He had planned to wait until they had rowed out of the harbor, but apparently Amariel did not want to be seen by the other children, so he set about checking the mast, then dragged on the ropes that lifted the hole-filled sail to the wind.

Quietly they glided over the gentle waves, bumping along, heading out of the sheltered harbor past the long, rocky peninsula where the light towers stood, toward the open sea. Char and Clemency sighed in relief when the wind caught the sail, knowing they were done with rowing. Ven looked over the prow at the tow rope stretched tight beneath the water in front of them and smiled to himself.

He turned around to share his smile with the others, and saw that Ida was no longer in the boat.

“Ida!” he shouted, standing up in panic.

Char and Clem looked around quickly.

“Where’d she go?” Char exclaimed.

“I’m right here, you dolt.” Ida’s voice came from the darkness beside Clemency. The curate-in-training jumped. When the beam of the tower came around again, it fell for a second on their boat, and in its light they could see the thin girl, her arms crossed, sitting where she had been beside Clem, almost transparent. For a moment, she looked exactly like Gregory.

Ven, Char, and Clem exchanged a nervous glance but said nothing. Char went back to bailing the bilgewater out of the bottom of the boat.

The waves got flatter and flatter as they saw the outer edges of the harbor approach. The moon came out from behind the clouds, casting a silver light on the sea almost as bright as the beacon from Kingston’s light tower. When at last the circling light was hitting them from behind, Ven stood carefully in the boat and looked back toward shore.

The coastline had faded into the darkness, except for the light tower at the end of the peninsula, from which now only the beacon could be seen.

“We made it!” Ven shouted, feeling the sea wind ruffle his shirt. “We’re out of the harbor and away from the land!”

“Now what do we do?” Char called from the stern, holding on to the tiller.

From the water at the bow Ven heard an annoyed cough.

“Ahem.”

He leaned forward and looked over the prow. Amariel was floating in the water, her hair glowing silver in the moonlight and pooling all around her in the sea.

“All right, you’re out of the harbor. I guess your friend can stop disappearing now,” she said, quiet enough so that the others in the boat could not hear her. “So are you ready,
finally,
to come explore the depths with me?”

Ven’s face fell. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he said, “I have to call the Floating Island now. There are still some things I have to do first. I really appreciate what you’ve done, though, and—” His words stopped as a tail-slap of cold water hit him in the face.

The merrow’s sea-green eyes narrowed.

“I understand. All right, I’m going home. I’m tired of waiting around for you.”

“Wait—”

Another tail-slap doused him. When Ven cleared the salt water from his eyes, the merrow was gone.

Ven continued to watch for a long moment, but there was no sign of the merrow. Finally he looked over his shoulder and called to Char.

“Keep her steady, Char.”

The cook’s mate grinned. “Aye, sir.”

Ven reached into the pocket of his vest, the one on the other side from where he stored the jack-rule. Carefully he removed the conch shell Oliver had given him on the day the Floating Island first appeared. It felt smooth and cold in his hand.