by J. P. Sheen
At long last, Blake’s energy was spent. Thankfully, the lakeshore was not far off. The pirate swam to it and cast himself on its jagged stones. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on breathing in air, not water. Even that was a gift.
As he sucked in air and raggedly exhaled, he realized that the emptiness had a melody of its own. The lake water murmured softly, lapping the rocky shore. The gentle sound echoed back and forth until it became an endless, lonely refrain. Even Blake’s breathing was loud and melodic...or perhaps he had just not heard it in so long.
Now where do I go?
He could follow the light down the tunnel, but he wouldn’t get very far. He had eaten nothing but a few strips of crabmeat in three days. All he had wanted was a glimpse of the sun. Was that really too much to hope for?
“Why?”
His whisper was weak and broken. Blake took a shuddering breath and roared the question at the top of his lungs.
“Why…why…why…”
The wavering echo threw his question back in his face until it died away unanswered. Like a snake, the cavern air wrapped icy scales around his skin. Blake shivered. Sharp rocks scratched his legs as he drew them to his chest. Curled up like a fetus in the womb, Blake shut his eyes and listened to the echoes of stone and water.
“You are all alone, Blake Ransom,” whispered a small voice, which Blake knew came from within. He moaned and curled up tighter. Aye, he was alone…and cold, and hungry, and wracked with pain. Yet, he had borne it all because he had wanted to see the sun, and feel its warm touch on his face…
Blake shivered. He was so cold!
“Why didn’t you come for me?”
His anguished cry echoed around the cavern. Blake lowered his voice.
“…Mother…”
“Lady in Blue, take me with you!”
From the shore, Blake pitifully held out his hands.
The Lady turned. Her eyes contained such kindness that Blake forgot everything else and stood still.
“I will never abandon you!” she assured him, “You are my child, my very own. Keep your heart alive to the call of the deep! I will return soon to claim it!”
She was really leaving him! Blake raced into the water.
“Lady in Blue, don’t go!” he cried, fighting the incoming tide, “You may have it now! Right, right now!”
Suddenly, the sand beneath his feet disappeared.
Down he sank. To his amazement, he could see as clearly as he did onshore. Blue-green rocks covered the sandy floor, and rays of moonlight danced in the shallows.
Blake took a deep breath, and a joyful wave crashed through him. He could breathe underwater! He could really, truly breathe underwater!
For a while, his five-year-old soul was consumed with joy. Then he remembered the Lady in Blue. She was going away; she was leaving him!
Blake clawed upward and burst through the water, looking frantically about. The Lady in Blue was gone.
“Lady in Blue! Come back, come back!” sobbed Blake, striking out for the faraway horizon. If she wouldn’t stay, he would go after her!
Then, faintly, Blake heard someone call his name.
“Blake! Come back, Blake!”
It was Jaimes, calling from the shore. Blake halted and treaded water, torn between the shore and the sea.
After slipping in and out of restless dreams, Blake weakly turned onto his side, opened his eyes…and stared at a little boat, beached a few yards away.
He had to be hallucinating.
Blake blinked. The boat remained, so the pirate crawled forward and reached out. Cold, dry wood met his trembling fingertips. It couldn’t be real…
Blake ran his hand down the rough wood. A splinter pierced his palm, and the pain made it all real. He struggled to his feet, pushed the boat into the water, and collapsed into it, landing atop a pile of ancient fishing nets. Blake wrinkled his nose. Eww…
He searched around for the unfortunate fisherman’s remains and discovered an oar instead. What luck.
Blake lowered the oar into the water and stared down at the black ripples. For a moment, he thought he saw the haunted blue silhouette of the Polaris. Hastily, he shook his head. The ripples stilled. No, it was just the fishing boat’s reflection.
“Mad,” he whispered, “Blake Ransom has gone mad.”
He just hoped he was not imagining this boat, or he would eventually come to his senses and find himself onshore, paddling the air with empty fists. But he reached the far side of the lake and still did not waken from his dream.
Blake found the tunnel the light had traveled down and kept paddling his little boat. He was beginning to feel that this wasn’t a dream after all. Of course, that didn’t mean he hadn’t gone mad.
Time passed strangely.
At last, Blake couldn’t keep rowing. The oars were heavy as anchors, and the world swayed to and fro. Blake opened his mouth to vomit, but he didn’t have anything in his stomach to throw up.
“I have to stop,” he whispered, “I can’t go any farther…”
Blake sank back onto the fishing nets and gave himself up to the sea.
He slept, and he dreamed that he was in a boat drifting through a great sea cavern, while all around him voices in the dark cried out, Come back, Blake! Return to the deep! Blake’s eyes flickered beneath their lids. Then they opened a crack. He beheld a sky strewn with diamonds and, in their midst, a glorious full moon. He saw them, all blurry between his eyelashes but still wondrously beautiful.
Blake looked at them for a few more moments. Then he wearily closed his eyes, and sank back into the same dream.
“Wake up, Blake! It’s just a nightmare!”
With those words, night after night, Jaimes wrenched his little brother from the same vivid dream, in which Blake struggled to follow the Lady in Blue across the sea. Still crying for his mother, Blake awoke to find a pair of worried brown eyes gazing down at him. Other times, Jaimes didn’t act quickly enough, and Blake roused the entire family with his cries. Drake Ransom did not take kindly to that.
Each evening found Blake sitting on the seashore until, as darkness fell, Jaimes appeared to bring him home. For weeks, he waited with unusual patience, convinced that his mother was coming back for him.
But a child’s fortitude is quickly exhausted.
Weeks slipped by, the moon waxed full, and still the Lady in Blue did not return. Blake’s seaside vigils became a tiresome chore. As he grew accustomed to the sight of the empty horizon, his visits grew shorter and shorter. Finally, he gave them up altogether. But despite Jaimes’s subtle suggestions, Blake refused to believe that he had dreamed up the Lady in Blue. After all, he had proof of their encounter.
His sea breath.
Blake loved the Lady in Blue’s gift. Gone were the days of investigating Moanamiri’s hot, stuffy forest. Now Blake was always to be found near the sea. Nothing thrilled him more than exploring the coral reefs and undersea caves that surrounded his island home. There, he discovered a hidden world full of wonder and adventure. And it was all his. He didn’t have to share it with anyone, even Jaimes.
Months passed. As Blake fell more deeply in love with the ocean, a strange inner whisper began to beckon him beyond the confines of his little island, out to the open seas. But to his great frustration, he was not allowed to go.
For now, he had to stay on Moanamiri, where life rolled aimlessly along, one day to the next. It wasn’t such a bad life either…not when there were eel holes to explore, treasures to gather, and an older brother to annoy and occasionally play pirates with. Gradually, the Lady in Blue became a wistful memory, a phantom that haunted Blake only in dreams, and though his sea longing intensified with time, his longing for the Lady’s return dulled until Blake hardly brought her to mind at all.
5
The Liberty Rally
Eselder glared at the napkin in his lap. He had forgotten how much he loathed these suppers.
He sat with the King and Queen in the royal family’s priv
ate dining room, a small but ornate chamber decorated with red velvet draperies, Oriental carpets, and a long mahogany table. Gold chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating portraits of Eselder’s dead ancestors. Glancing at an oil painting, Eselder issued a silent challenge to his great-great-grandfather King Jaimes the Third.
What did you do to deserve a life-size portrait, anyway? You don’t look like you could run a mile, much less a kingdom.
King Jaimes the Third did not reply, but his pompous beam suggested that he was quite pleased with his kingly accomplishments.
Eselder shifted his baleful stare to King Jaimes the Fourth, who sat at the head of table calmly eating soup. In fact, they all looked very dignified and serene, only opening their mouths to swallow a spoonful of soup. These suppers were never much for conversation, though the King and Queen’s dissatisfaction with one another spoke volumes in the silence.
Eselder stirred his soup, watching the creamy broth swirl around and around.
No wonder I look like a ball of dough.
He knew he ought to tell his parents the shocking conversation he had overheard, but one glance at the King convinced Eselder that he couldn’t stomach the torture of explaining why he had been in the stables to begin with. Besides, the threat that had seemed so real in the dark stables appeared far-fetched now that he was back in Kingston Palace.
It’s your fault, you know! Eselder shot a silent barb at the King. If you didn’t make me so nervous, you’d already know everything!
Actually, it was rather gratifying to withhold information that King Jaimes would no doubt like to know. He and the Queen looked all too content to sit there, ignore one another, and let their son to grow up into a laughable buffoon. It was obvious that King Jaimes considered his only son and heir an embarrassment. The injustice of that rankled Eselder, seeing as his father had grown up at Court too. Of course, he noted gloomily, the King did not resemble the crème-filled bonbons set out for dessert.
“Well, you certainly aren’t very talkative this evening,” remarked King Jaimes. His wife and son stared at him incredulously, and for a moment, he actually looked sheepish. Then his eyes locked onto Eselder’s soupspoon.
Oh, hell. Here it comes.
“You know, Eselder, there are families…hungry families…”
Here we go.
Eselder hadn’t even said anything.
“…who would gladly do a full day’s labor for that soup.”
His father was using the insufferably crisp tone that always made Eselder want to beat his head (or the King’s) against the wall. For the second time in two days, he did the unthinkable.
He lost his temper.
Eselder pushed away his soup and folded his arms. The temperature in the room plunged. Eselder pushed stubbornly on toward his doom.
“Then give it to them.”
A frightening silence ensued.
“May I be excused?” Eselder asked, choosing insolence over penitence.
King Jaimes’s face paled in rage.
“Do you realize how spoiled you sound right now?” he demanded.
Yes, Eselder did know, but he was far too angry to admit it. So he did something shocking instead. He provoked the King further.
“No, I do not suppose I do,” he lied, his eyes boring holes into his water goblet, “Seeing as I’ve never been anywhere besides this prison hole.”
King Jaimes rose swiftly, his expression suggesting a messy end to the Crown Heir. Not like his father would ever have the guts to lay a finger on him.
“You’ve never suffered a day in your life, you spoiled child!”
The King slammed a fist against the table. Eselder sat still, his face pinched. His father had never spoken to him like that.
The Queen’s eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth, but her husband cut her off. That was a shame, as Eselder would very much have liked to know what she intended to say.
“You − ”
The King pointed rigidly at Eselder, who now understood how criminals felt when being sentenced to death.
“—have n-no idea—”
King Jaimes stumbled over his words in his fury. Eselder looked at him with interest. His father never stammered.
“—what most p-people have to do…just to get through… just to provide for their families, to survive!”
And you do?
Eselder’s desperation grew along with his shame, until he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. The words burst out before he could stop himself.
“Believe me, if I could get away and find out for myself, I would! You would never see me again!”
Oh, those words, those traitorous words! For weeks and months, through every dull lesson and silent supper, he had bitten them back…but now they had escaped him, and he couldn’t take them back. He was humiliated.
But was he sorry?
The King’s reaction ought to have been satisfying. His face was white and slack. He looked like Eselder had said something devastating. Yet somehow, Eselder couldn’t feel satisfied. All he felt was anger…at himself. He wanted to apologize, make amends, beg his father’s forgiveness! Instead, he watched on tenterhooks as King Jaimes’s spectacled eyes swept across the table. They landed on the Queen and turned cold. Then they rested on his heir, and Eselder saw their contempt. He broke eye contact and glared at his napkin.
A second later, the King’s chair slid back so suddenly that Eselder and the Queen jumped. Eselder looked up in time to see King Jaimes storm out of the room.
Perhaps, if I’m lucky, the King will send me away from the Court, he thought miserably as King Jaimes shut the door with admirable control.
“Eselder, you may be excused,” said the Queen. Of course. She didn’t want to deal with her hopeless child.
Eselder obeyed as quickly as he could without alerting the entire Court to the royal family’s suppertime spat. Smiling and nodding at the courtiers who bid him good evening, he hurried to his private apartments. It was the only place he could safely vent his rage…not too loudly, of course.
It didn’t take long for his biting fury to subside, and when he stopped snarling and pacing the floor, everything seemed horribly quiet. The sun had already set, and Eselder stood alone in his gloomy chambers, surrounded by crystal chandeliers, gold candlesticks, and other finery that twinkled serenely in the moonlight.
His parents did not understand. No one understood.
And nobody came to see him.
In a fit of rebellion, Eselder decided to desert King and country. He was running away! After digging through his wardrobe, he changed into the threadbare clothes he kept hidden in his trunk. He had nabbed the old breeches and shirt from a goodwill pile at Lady Birkenbee’s Benefit to Clothe the Poor Orphans…leaving behind a stack of sovereigns to assuage his guilty conscience. The clothes had fit him quite well last July, but now they were getting rather cramped. Well, the waistline was, anyway.
For fifteen blissful minutes, Eselder prowled around his chambers like a caged lion, planning his escape. This was it! This time, he was really leaving!
Then reality caught up with him.
Losing his nerve, Eselder flung himself onto his couch and waited for someone to come and berate him for his behavior. Nobody did. That infuriated him even more. To distract himself, Eselder picked up Five Years Aboard the Lady Roc and began to read.
His “childish” obsession with running away to sea had begun several years back at a supper with Count Magnoff and his son, a newly appointed midshipman aboard the HMS Lady Liberty. While the young ship’s officer gushed about the splendid sights one saw at sea, Eselder had attacked his pineapple cream with unusual relish, trying to mask his jealousy. Despite the riveting talk, however, Eselder’s eyes had kept drooping, and he had struggled mightily not to doze off. This twofold battle had raged within him until, at long last, he couldn’t contain himself. Though he hadn’t spoken a word all evening, his exclamation had burst forth in all its mortifying sincerity.
�
�I should love to go to sleep on the Lady Liberty!”
Eselder hadn’t even realized his mistake until he noticed the other men chortling.
Sea! I meant sea!
In his humiliation, he could have cried. He had looked beseechingly at his father, but King Jaimes’s weary gaze had been directed toward the ceiling. After their guests settled down, he had smoothly changed the subject.
But afterward, they had had a father-son talk.
“What on earth made you say that?”
“It was a slip of the tongue!”
“Your tongue slips rather often, I must say.”
“Well, I…I get nervous!”
“It was a quiet supper with old friends. What could possibly make you nervous?”
Eselder had stared at his father’s skeptical, irritated face. And said nothing.
Shaking his head, the King had added evenly, “In the future, you’d do better to say nothing at all.”
Instantly, Eselder’s face had become a stony mask. Yes sir, he had silently replied, his chest smarting. But aloud, he had said nothing. Nothing at all.
Eselder huddled on his couch, glumly playing with the strings on his pilfered shirt. It was now past midnight. His windows were black as ink, but he couldn’t sleep.
How will I ever clean up the mess I’ve made?
In his mind’s eye, Eselder saw a mast climbing high toward the sky.
I wish I could run away to sea.
A distant noise shattered his reverie.
Eselder sat up, his eyes darting to the window. Did he hear…voices? It certainly sounded like it. A multitude of angry voices, drawing steadily closer.
Dick’s words came rushing back, and now they seemed terribly, terribly real.
The Liberteers…storming the palace…no, it can’t true!
Why hadn’t he told the King everything when he had the chance?
Eselder tumbled over to the window, but before he reached it, a fiery glow crept up its panes. Eselder crawled under the windowsill and lifted himself up, just high enough to peer outside.
