“Oh, it’s wonderful,” said Amariel, swimming in long arcs at the edge of the drifting wreckage. “There are many splendid sights that you humans—er, you land-livers—never get to see, in your tiny and limited world.”
Ven laughed. “Our world is limited? I always thought of it as enormous. Of course I’ve seen very little of it.”
“That shows how little you know,” said the merrow, smiling. “The tallest mountains on land are tiny foothills compared to the mountains beneath the sea. Your deepest canyons are only scratches in the ground compared to the deepest, darkest ocean trenches. There are creatures in the depths that you could never imagine, and colors you have never seen. Water fairies and nymphs, sea dragons with great hordes of sparkling treasure taken from shipwrecks—there is nothing like the excitement of the carnival that is held on midsummer’s day, with the crowning of the sea king and queen, and the hippocampus races—”
“Hippocampus?” Ven asked.
“Horses with tails like mine, only bigger and stronger. They swim their races in great circles, and that sometimes causes a giant whirlpool to form.” The merrow sighed. “Yes, the world beneath the sea is an amazing place.” She sat up and looked brightly at Ven. “You should come see it.”
Ven sighed as well. “I would love to,” he said sincerely, “but I can’t breathe under water.”
“You could if you had gills.”
“Well, yes,” said Ven, “but I don’t.” He stole a glance at her neck, and saw, to his surprise, that there were small flaps of skin which must have served that purpose.
“There are fishermen who know how to cut them,” said Amariel excitedly. “They become so expert with their filleting and boning knives that they can actually slice gills into a human’s neck, and, until they heal, he can breathe under water, like one of us.”
Ven winced, struggling to keep from clutching his own neck at the thought. “That sounds painful.”
“It’s not,” the merrow said, an annoyed tone in her voice. “Or so my father told me, anyway. But you have to find a fisherman who knows how to do it, and they are very rare indeed.”
“Is there any other way for a—someone who is not a merrow—to breathe beneath the sea?” Ven asked, his curiosity causing his skin to itch uncontrollably. “I’d love to see those sights.”
The merrow shrugged. “You can kiss a merrow—if you can find one who is nearsighted or silly enough to want to kiss someone like you.”
Ven was too interested in what she was saying to take offense. “What would kissing a merrow do?”
“It would enslave your soul to the sea,” Amariel said, looking up into the sky at the albatross as it passed overhead again. “You could breathe, as we do, but you would never again want to return to the land. They say that sailors have all been kissed by merrows in their sleep, and that is why they are so restless, so unable to part from the ocean.”
“Ah,” said Ven, thinking back to something Captain Faeley had said. “And here I thought it was because they had drunk too much of the wind.”
He lapsed into silence, trying to concentrate on his breathing, which was becoming more and more difficult. He was shivering from the cold and from being soaked to the skin for so long.
Amariel swam over to the edge of the wreckage and leaned across it. She put her hand on Ven’s shoulder and shook him gently.
“Do you want to hear what happens to merrows who want to walk on the land?” she asked, trying to keep him awake.
Ven blinked. “Merrows want to walk on the land?” he asked shakily, his voice faltering.
“Oh, yes; it is a deep and sometimes irresistible desire. And they can do it, too, if they are foolish enough.”
“How?” Ven asked.
“By giving their red pearl caps to a human man,” Amariel said contemptuously. “If a merrow gives in to the desire to walk on the land, and finds a man to entrust with her cap, she will grow legs and be able to do so.”
“That’s wonderful!” Ven said, his tired eyes taking on the gleam of curiosity again.
“No, it’s not,” the merrow said firmly. “Because when a merrow gives in to that desire and gives her cap to a human man for safekeeping, she sacrifices her freedom for her curiosity. In the course of growing legs, she forgets all about the sea and its wonders, and loses all the joy in life that came from living here once. She marries and has children with the man who holds her cap, forgetting everything about the merworld and the life she had there.” She gave a disgusted snort. “I would never be so silly as to do that.”
“I can see why you wouldn’t—want to,” Ven said, yawning. “You’re too smart for that.”
The merrow’s face took on an amused expression.
“And why do you think I’m smart?” she asked.
Ven smiled wanly. “Because instead of wasting your time like the rest of your school, snarfing up every last flask of rum and whatever treasure could be found in the wreckage, you retrieved something really valuable—me.”
The merrow threw back her head and laughed aloud.
Ven’s eyes opened wide in shock, and he recoiled involuntarily. The merrow’s teeth were oddly shaped, a little peglike and separated slightly from each other, like porpoise teeth.
Abruptly the merrow stopped laughing. Her wide eyes met Ven’s. Then she disappeared below the waves.
It took Ven a moment to get over his shock. “Wait!” he called in the direction she had vanished. “I’m sorry! Please come back.”
The tiny ring of ripples she had made as she left was caught by a swell in the water and swallowed into the vastness of the sea.
Ven let his head fall back against the wreckage in despair. Mentally he kicked himself for embarrassing her, for driving her off.
It doesn’t really matter if the sea takes me now, he thought. I’ve killed a group of men who were nothing but kind to me, disgraced my family, and now I’ve hurt the feelings of the merrow who saved my life and kept me from drowning. It doesn’t matter. In fact, it’s probably better.
His ears were suddenly wet. Ven looked to the side and his eyes were splashed with salt water.
His floating life raft of wreckage was sinking.
Weakly Ven felt around in his shirt pocket. His jack-rule was still there, as was something else. He unbuttoned the pocket and took out the folded oilcloth Inspection sheet, water-soaked but still readable, its checkmarks smeared. It was almost complete; before the pirates struck, he had managed to certify all but one last step as complete.
The box that remained unchecked was next to the last item on the Inspection sheet. SHIP’S NAME INSCRIBED AND SPELLED CORRECTLY, it read.
Determined to see to the last of his duty before he slipped back into the sea, Ven rolled slowly onto his side, clutching the wreckage with all his strength. He extended the jack-rule’s folded knife and carefully set to carving.
The wreckage began to leak. Now that he was no longer on his back Ven noticed that what he was lying on was the hull seam with the extra rivets that Jasper had chided him about the previous morning. He laughed at the irony. The extra fastenings had kept this remaining part of the ship afloat longer than any other.
With the final letter carved into the boards of the hull, Ven used the last of his breath to blow the wet dust from the ship’s name.
Angelia, it read.
Shakily he made a checkmark in the box next to the last item, tucked the Inspection sheet and the jack-rule back in his pocket, buttoned it, then put his head down to rest.
In the distance he thought he could hear his name being called. He shook his head, trying to drive the noise from it as if it were a mosquito or a buzzing fly, but as it got closer, he raised his head with the last of his strength.
Not far from him, over the crests of a few waves, Amariel was swimming, waving to him excitedly.
Behind her she was pulling an empty lifeboat.
Ven’s heart leapt when he saw her, both because he knew she was bringing him a safe place to rest in the sea and b
ecause she had come back. He resolved to never again gape at anything about her that surprised him.
“Hoay! Ven! Stay awake!” she was calling over the sound of the waves splashing against the sinking wreckage.
“I’m awake,” he called back weakly.
Later, when Ven tried to remember what happened after that, he could not recall it clearly. He had a vague recollection of the merrow helping him into the boat, and feeding him apples and parsnips she had found floating in the sea. She must have given him a blanket of seaweed, because when he woke up it was covering him. And distantly he seemed to recall that she had stayed with him all afternoon and through the long night, floating in the sea with her folded arms resting on the edge of the boat, singing him merrow songs and telling him fascinating tales of her folk, of the marvelous world beneath the waves, and all the wonders waiting there for him to explore someday.
All the while the albatross flew in great circles overhead.
When dawn broke, he thought she was there still, though the haze had set in, and his mind was no longer able to separate the real world from the world of dreams.
Consequently he did not see the ship until it was upon him.
5
The Serelinda
* * *
I was dreaming of grinning pirates with wicked-looking blades and burning torches. Their evil smirks changed into the look of disapproval on my father’s face. His disappointed eyes became deep green, green as a merrow’s. My face grew hot as the world exploded around me in my dreams.
Then I dreamed of the albatross, flying high above me.
And that I, too, was flying.
And then it suddenly felt as if I really was flying.
I opened my eyes. The sky was coming closer.
Then I realized the lifeboat in which I had been sleeping was being hoisted aboard a sailing ship, a huge, four-masted schooner.
Perhaps my mind would have been more appropriately fixed on the miraculous luck of my rescue, but instead all I could think about was Amariel. I struggled to look over the side, to catch a glimpse of her, but there was no sign of her, no sign at all.
The more I thought about it, the more I felt it must have been a dream. Did the explosion and the salt and the cold only make me think I saw her? Or wish I saw her?
* * *
VEN AWOKE TO THE THUMP OF GRAPPLING HOOKS. THE LIFEBOAT shuddered, then began to rise up into the air.
The sunlight blinded him for a moment as his eyes popped open. He tried to sit up, but he was too weak from the cold and the ordeal he had been through to do more than just lie still and watch helplessly.
I hope these aren’t more pirates, he thought as he felt the lifeboat being lifted closer and closer to the deck of the ship. There were shadows of heads staring down at him from the ship’s rail, and he could see the outlines of other figures hauling on the ropes that were pulling him aboard. But it appears that there is nothing I can do about it anyway.
He could tell that he was being brought aboard the ship at the bow, off the port side. Ven shielded his eyes to block the sun and saw the ship’s figurehead. It was not a carving of a woman, as most figureheads were, but instead looked like a glistening silver star shooting from the prow. As the lifeboat cleared the portholes on its way to the deck, he could read the ship’s name on his way past it.
Serelinda, it said.
Ven twisted, trying to see where the merrow had been, but all he could see was green waves splashing white against the ship’s hull.
With a few more screams of the ropes, the lifeboat swung over the side and thumped down onto the deck.
A dozen faces looked down at Ven. They were the faces of men, sailors no doubt, in all sizes, shapes, and colors, but kinder than the grinning faces of the pirates in his memory.
Suddenly a chorus of voices all talking at once broke out. Ven’s ears were ringing from the salt water, so he could hear only a few words of what they were saying.
“Blimey! I think it’s a Nain!”
“Young ’un, too—no beard yet. Big fer his age, though.”
“Gray from the sea. Pull those weeds from him and get him a blanket and some rum.”
“No rum,” Ven whispered. “B-burns.”
“Are you sure he’s Nain?” one redheaded man asked his shipmates doubtfully. “Never known a Nain to turn down a swig of rum before.”
Several hands reached into the lifeboat and pulled a blanket of seaweed off him. Ven could hear someone shouting for the captain as well, but as he was lifted out of the lifeboat the world went suddenly dark.
When he could keep his head up and clear he saw he was in the galley of the ship near the small cooking fire, sitting in a chair, wrapped in a heavy blanket. A human boy about his own age with dark, straight hair was watching him from the shadows. Standing in front of him was a broad-shouldered man with a thick wave of silver hair and bright blue eyes in a dark blue coat with brass buttons, also watching him closely.
“Warmer yet, son?” the man asked.
Ven nodded, suddenly tired again.
“What’s your name?” the man asked.
“Ven Polypheme,” said Ven hoarsely. His full name would have taken too much effort.
“Well met, Ven Polypheme. I’m the captain, but you may call me Oliver, if you wish.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ven said.
“I was glad to see you were alive,” said the captain. “Fire Pirates don’t usually leave any survivors, and this looks to be their work. Didn’t know quite what to expect when we got to you.”
“How did you find me?” Ven asked, pulling the blanket more snugly around himself.
“Why, the albatross, lad. Saw it from a goodly distance away. Flying in great wide circles around something, so we came to see what it was. Turned out to be your boat. You are one very lucky young man—er, Nain.”
“Yes,” Ven said, thinking about being pulled from the depths by the merrow. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
“Well, I never knew a lucky man who was not a good man as well. At least, not one who is lucky enough to have an albatross as a guardian. So you are welcome here, Ven Polypheme. You are aboard the good ship Serelinda, registered to His Majesty, King Vandemere, of the Island of Serendair, which is where we are presently headed. Where are you from?”
“Vaarn,” said Ven. He was starting to feel better. “On the Great Overward.”
The captain nodded thoughtfully. “Polypheme,” he said, almost to himself. “You’re not related to the shipbuilding family, are you?”
“Yes,” Ven said, looking down. Now that he was safe, thoughts had already begun to come into his head about his family. Beyond thinking he was dead, his father was undoubtedly in very deep trouble with Mr. Witherspoon.
“Well, well, then,” said Oliver, sounding pleased. “I’ve purchased many a ship from Pepin Polypheme. The best in the business, he is. You’re one of his sons?” Ven nodded. “Then you are more than welcome to sail with us, Ven. We will be landing in Serendair in a few short weeks, if we have a fair wind, in the northwestern port city of Kingston. From there you can set about making arrangements to head home if you like.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ven mumbled.
“I have to be getting back topside,” said Oliver. “Be sure you get a length of lanyard from the first mate and tie anything to you that you don’t want to lose—like that folding ruler. On a ship, everything’s tied down.” He motioned to the human boy who had been hovering in the shadows of the fire. “This is Char, the ship’s cook’s mate. He’ll look out for you while you recover. Try to rest, and eat something if you can. The sea takes a lot out of a man. It may take a while, but you will feel better.” He patted Ven on the shoulder and climbed out through the galley hatch.
Ven thought about his father, Mr. Witherspoon, and the rest of his family. I’m not so sure about that, he thought.
He looked up to see that Char was staring at him.
“What are you looking at?” Ven asked crossly.
<
br /> “I’m not sure,” Char answered, wide-eyed. “Are you a ghost?”
“No,” Ven said. “Do I look like a ghost to you?”
The boy shrugged. “Dunno. Never seen one. But I never seen an albatross neither, till today. They say an albatross is the soul of a dead sailor come back as a seabird, so I didn’t know if there was a reason it was followin’ you around the sea. Maybe it was an old friend of yours? Or a dead relative? Or maybe you were about to die yourself?”
“Ugh,” said Ven. “That’s a cheerful thought.” He pulled his blanket closer to his neck and turned toward the fire.
The cook’s mate filled a battered mug with stew and handed it to Ven. “You want some cider?”
Ven nodded. “Thanks.”
The boy’s brown eyes glistened with excitement as he gave Ven the drink. “Know what else I seen?”
“No,” Ven said, taking a sip. “What?”
“A seal,” said Char with wonder in his voice. “All the way down here—a seal following the ship. Been a truly odd voyage, it has.”
Ven almost dropped the mug. “A seal? Where? Show me!”
Char shook his head vigorously. “Faith, no. The cap’n told me to keep you warm and feed you. He didn’t say nothin’ about letting you go topside. If you slip or somethin’ and end up in the drink again, I’ll lose my position.”
“I won’t fall in, believe me. And I won’t tell him you showed me.”
Char crossed his arms stubbornly.
Desperately Ven banged the mug down and threw off his blankets. “Show me!” he insisted, taking Char by the arm and pulling him toward the hatch.
“Why is it so important to you?” Char asked, bewildered. “It’s probably not even there anymore.”
Ven tried to wrestle the cook’s mate over to the hatch. “If it’s a seal, you’re probably right,” he said between grunts; Char was thin and stringy, but his stubbornness gave him extra strength, and Ven was weak from the sea. Finally, when it became clear that Char wasn’t going to budge, he stopped pulling and looked the mate in the eye.
The Floating Island Page 5
