History Keepers: Nightship to China

by Dibben, Damian

  ‘Don’t eat the cake!’ Charlie shouted as he flew towards them. ‘Did you eat it – did either of you eat the cake?’

  ‘Has everyone gone stark raving mad?’ Jupitus yelled. ‘It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning. What are you all doing?’

  ‘Just answer my question,’ Charlie persisted. ‘Did Oceane Noire just come up here?’

  ‘Yes, she did,’ Rose told him. ‘She was thumping on my door, ranting about goodness knows what. We both came out and she said she had made us a surprise. Then she started mumbling to herself, invited us both to go to hell and tossed whatever it was into the bin there.’

  Charlie turned and saw that the cake lay in pieces at the bottom, the knife thrown on top of it. ‘So you didn’t eat any of it?’ he asked again, relieved.

  ‘This is lunacy,’ Jupitus hissed. ‘I’m not listening to any more of it. Goodnight to you both.’ He turned on his heel, went back into his room and slammed the door behind him.

  Rose stared at him with loathing, before turning to Charlie with a smile. ‘We didn’t touch it, no. What’s all this about?’

  Suddenly Charlie didn’t know what to say. Oceane had obviously seen sense at the last moment.

  ‘You look much better, by the way,’ Rose went on. ‘You’ve got some colour in your cheeks.’

  That was an understatement: Charlie had just hobbled up five flights of stairs! ‘I’ll get rid of this,’ he said, picking up the rubbish bin and limping off. He stopped suddenly, another thought coming to him. ‘Which way did Oceane go?’

  Rose pointed along the passage. ‘Up there, onto the battlements. I suppose she needed some air.’

  Charlie wished her goodnight and headed out onto the terrace. He scanned the contours of the Mount, a dark collage of shapes and shadows. Finally he located Oceane on one of the upper levels. Was she about to throw herself off? He hid the rubbish bin behind a buttress and, reflecting that he would be happy if he never saw stairs again in his life, he limped up onto the terrace towards her.

  He stopped when he saw that his guess had been correct. She had climbed up onto the parapet and was now standing swaying high above the sea. The summer wind made her dishevelled hair stream out behind her. She turned and looked at him, eyes smudged where her make-up had run. She no longer looked crazy – just desperate and dejected.

  ‘Miss Noire’ – Charlie’s voice was calm – ‘please don’t do that.’

  ‘Pourquoi pas?’ she asked hoarsely.

  ‘Because it’s not really high enough and the chances are you won’t die – you’ll end up on crutches like me and it wouldn’t suit you at all.’

  ‘It wouldn’t?’ she growled. ‘Why not?’

  ‘You’re much too pretty for crutches.’

  She looked at him angrily. ‘Ce n’est pas vrai! If I was pretty, people would love me. But no one loves me.’ She clenched her fists, and prepared to launch herself into space.

  ‘You’re the prettiest woman on the island. How can you deny it? When I first met you, I thought I had never seen anyone so beautiful.’ Charlie was telling the truth . . . to a degree: there was no need to mention that he also thought she was mad as a box of frogs. ‘Why don’t we do a deal? There’s a summer ball this coming weekend, over the bay in St Malo. It’s a lavish affair, by all accounts, bound to be stuffed with aristocratic types – counts and dukes and so on . . . right up your boulevard. You’ll meet one who’ll sweep you off your feet. And if you don’t, we’ll come back here and I’ll personally help you jump.’

  Oceane looked at him, scrutinizing him carefully. ‘Why are you helping me?’ she asked.

  Charlie sighed and let his shoulders drop. ‘I don’t know. I think perhaps . . . perhaps we’re both a bit lonely.’

  There was a long pause, and then Oceane stepped back from the edge.

  12 NIGHTSHIP TO CHINA

  AFTER MADAME FANG’S dramatic exit into the Thames, Jake and Yoyo found a water taxi to take them across the river. Yoyo produced a gold coin and whistled for a ferryman as if she hailed one every day. Once on board, they discussed whether they should return to the East India Company or wait for the others on the Thunder. They agreed that it was best to head for the ship: Nathan and Topaz would return there – if they hadn’t already done so.

  As they glided across the water, Yoyo told Jake what had happened: she had escaped from the Mont St Michel less than an hour after he and the others had set sail. She had caused a diversion by setting off fireworks on the western battlements, before making her escape from the east of the island.

  ‘I’ve often travelled solo through horizon points,’ she boasted. ‘I calibrated my first Horizon Cup when I was three, and I’m the sharpest diamond in the eastern hemisphere.’

  Jake didn’t doubt it. ‘Which boat did you come here in?’

  ‘I borrowed the Kingfisher. I knew the commander kept an emergency supply of atomium aboard.’

  ‘You took Galliana Goethe’s yacht?’ Jake exclaimed, startling the waterman. He went on in a whisper, ‘That’s not going to go down well at all.’

  ‘Borrowed. And it’s just a little skiff. It was the only choice I had,’ Yoyo replied. ‘It will look bad; but in the end she will thank me for it. I am vital to the success of this mission. No one will find Xi Xiang without me.’

  Jake scrutinized his companion’s almond eyes and alabaster face: whatever her shortcomings, her belief in her own worth was unshakeable. He swiftly brought her up to date on their mission, and showed her Philip’s watch with the cryptic instruction to find the Ocean Door. But she had no idea what this might refer to either.

  They arrived safely on the north bank, sought out the rickety pier where the Thunder was docked and, making doubly sure that no one had followed them, climbed aboard – to find the ship empty.

  Jake took off his jacket, grimacing in pain. His shirt was blotched with blood from his wounds and he half slipped it off too. His shoulder had been scratched by the dog, but far worse was the cut on his arm from Fang’s dagger.

  ‘Let me see that,’ Yoyo said.

  ‘I don’t think it’s life-threatening,’ Jake replied bravely. Yoyo inspected it: a deep gash.

  ‘You’ll survive,’ she told him. ‘But we need to clean it up. First-aid box?’

  ‘The trunk there.’ Jake nodded towards a wooden chest that doubled as a seat behind the helm.

  Yoyo retrieved a leather case embossed with the emblem of a red cross and clicked it open. It contained a bundle of moustaches and beards. ‘Interesting,’ she commented.

  ‘Oh, those are Charlie’s,’ Jake said, unable to resist a chuckle. ‘He has a passion for disguises and likes to secrete them in odd places. Perhaps underneath . . .’

  Below, Yoyo found two trays, the first filled with gleaming medical instruments, the second with vials of medicines and tinctures. ‘I think it’s best if we do this immediately,’ she said, taking out a bottle and a pouch of waxy paper, which she tore open to reveal a swab. She doused it with drops from the bottle. ‘This will sting,’ she warned as she started to clean the wound.

  The pain was intense, and Jake clenched his teeth to prevent himself from crying out. Once it was washed, Yoyo used another swab to anaesthetize the cut.

  ‘When you say it’s best we do it immediately . . .?’ Jake began, but he trailed off when he saw her pick out a sharp needle and thread it from a roll of gut.

  ‘Bite on this,’ Yoyo said, passing Jake a chunk of leather. She wasted no time, leaning forward and piercing his skin with the needle. This time, he did cry out. ‘Look for the others,’ she told him, trying to distract him. ‘Can you see them?’

  Jake was panting as she laced up the gash; he scanned the busy quay and shook his head.

  ‘What can you see?’

  ‘Fisherman . . . selling crabs,’ he moaned as he watched a man carrying baskets of live shellfish. ‘Ah!’ he cried out again.

  ‘All done,’ said Yoyo, tying the thread, snipping it and tossing the instruments
to one side.

  ‘Already?’ Jake felt a sense of relief washing over him. As the worst of the pain subsided, he found himself giggling.

  Yoyo took a length of clean bandage and smoothed it carefully around his arm. ‘Have you ever had a girlfriend?’ she asked.

  Immediately Jake stopped laughing. There was silence as Yoyo tied the bandage. Suddenly his heart was pounding. On the pier, a lady bought some crabs from the fisherman.

  ‘I’d expect you to have one. You’ve got the face for it. Bel viso, as Signor Gondolfino says.’ Finally she cleaned up the scratches on his shoulders and packed up the first-aid case. ‘Perhaps I could be your girlfriend.’ It sounded more of a statement than a question. She put away the bundle of moustaches, but kept one back, placing it under her nose – to comic effect.

  Jake had suddenly forgotten all about his wound. His throat was dry.

  Yoyo was disappointed by his silence. ‘Oh dear, bad suggestion.’ She put the moustache away.

  ‘No,’ Jake said at last. ‘I mean, yes. You could.’ He took a deep breath. ‘That would be . . . Do you really mean it?’ He lifted his shirt back over his shoulder, but kept his arm free.

  ‘You’re adorable.’ Yoyo smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek. She lingered there for a moment. ‘It hasn’t been easy, getting your attention, I must say.’

  ‘Hasn’t it?’ Jake had thought precisely the opposite.

  ‘I’ve been following you around since the day I arrived.’

  ‘Have you?’ Jake was lost for words; he’d clearly misread everything.

  ‘I’m starving. I’m going to pay a visit to your fisherman there and rustle something up.’ Yoyo jumped down onto the pier and went over to inspect his catch, chatting amiably. Jake watched her, barely able to believe what had just happened . . . Yoyo had asked to be his girlfriend. Suddenly he flushed with pride. She’s been following me around since the day she arrived? Then another thought struck him: Nathan. What would he tell him? He hated the thought of upsetting his friend.

  Yoyo returned with an armful of crabs. ‘Last catch of the day.’

  ‘So, what you just said . . .’ Jake began.

  ‘Oh dear, you’ve changed your mind already?’

  ‘No! But maybe – would you mind if it was our secret for a while?’

  Yoyo chirped with delight. ‘Absolutely not. I love secrets! They make everything even more exciting,’ she whispered, and stepped down into the galley. There soon followed the sound of cracking crab shells.

  After a while, Jake spied two familiar figures coming down the steps towards the ship.

  ‘Jake, what happened?’ Topaz exclaimed, vaulting up onto the deck. ‘We searched everywhere for you. You’re hurt,’ she said, noticing the bandage.

  ‘Listen, there have been developments—’ Jake was about to tell them about Yoyo – and Madame Fang, of course – when his new girlfriend appeared from below decks with a tray of food and plates balanced on one hand. Not recognizing her in her boy’s garb, Nathan and Topaz drew their swords.

  ‘Relax . . .’ Yoyo pushed Topaz’s blade away with her finger and set down the tray. ‘You’ll give yourself a heart attack. Crab stir-fry, anyone?’ she asked, lifting the lid off a silver salver. The food looked delicious – as good as anything that Charlie could rustle up: emerald-green vegetables tossed with chunks of pink crabmeat. She served up a portion. ‘Jake first,’ she said, handing it to him with a coquettish smile, ‘as he’s probably worked the hardest for it.’

  Nathan sheathed his sword, unable to stop grinning; but Topaz kept hers clenched in her hand, blinking in disbelief. ‘Excuse me . . .’ She shook her head. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Not that it’s not nice to see you,’ Nathan quickly put in. ‘It’s very nice to see you. I love, love, love what you’re wearing. Tomboy chic – it’s perfect, effortless, understated.’

  Topaz shot him a sharp look before turning back to Yoyo. ‘I asked what you were doing here,’ she repeated impatiently.

  ‘I don’t think there is any need to take that tone, Miss St Honoré,’ Yoyo replied with an insincere smile. ‘For all you know, the commander sent me herself. Nathan, crab for you?’ she asked, serving up a second portion.

  ‘Well, yes, I wouldn’t say no – smells delicious.’

  ‘And did the commander send you?’ Topaz persisted, still refusing to put down her weapon.

  ‘Well, actually no,’ Yoyo confessed, ‘but she should have done. Crab, Miss St Honoré?’

  ‘No,’ the other deadpanned. ‘Je n’aime pas les crustacés. If you have not been given orders to accompany us, I must insist that you return to Point Zero immediately.’

  ‘Sooo dramatic,’ Yoyo chuckled, tucking into her food. ‘You can insist all you like, but I don’t believe you have the power to stop me travelling where I want to.’

  ‘Vraiment?’ Topaz squared up to her, her knuckles white on her sword hilt. ‘While you work for the History Keepers and I am in command of this assignment, I have every right. How did you get here?’

  There was an awkward silence, then Yoyo shot a glance at Jake before announcing coolly, ‘I brought the commander’s ship.’

  ‘You did what?’ Topaz let out a strangled laugh of astonishment.

  Jake stood up to intervene. ‘Maybe we should all calm down.’ He had never seen Topaz so angry; her top lip was trembling.

  ‘It’s incredible,’ Yoyo replied, her smile tight. ‘You haven’t even asked what happened to Jake. While you were up to goodness knows what, he was bravely pursuing Madame Fang.’

  ‘Madame Fang?’ Nathan exclaimed, choking on his stir-fry. ‘She’s here?’

  ‘Was here,’ Yoyo corrected him. ‘She escaped the city over an hour ago, by submarine.’

  ‘Submarine?’ Nathan spluttered.

  ‘As far as we can tell, Xi Xiang was with her,’ Jake added.

  ‘Xi Xiang?’ Nathan echoed once more.

  ‘Pour l’amour de Dieu, Nathan, stop repeating everything!’ Topaz drew a deep breath and finally put away her sword. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Yuting, perhaps we should start again. Jake, would you begin by telling us everything you know?’

  He recounted the events of the last couple of hours: the sighting of Madame Fang outside the East India Company, the pursuit across London Bridge, her rendezvous with a man – presumed to be Xi Xiang – at the Globe Theatre, the episode in the bear-pit, the fight amongst the severed heads and, finally, the old woman’s shock departure.

  Nathan shook his head. ‘Are you really trying to tell me that a seventy-year-old woman dived off London Bridge into the Thames?’

  ‘As witnessed by about a thousand people on the south bank,’ Yoyo confirmed. ‘There is no limit to Madame Fang’s abilities; nor to her endurance. And with age, she becomes ever more resilient. She can survive underwater, walk through fire, glide across tightropes. She is barely human.’

  ‘They must have locked up the house and then gone to plant the bombs on the East India Company ships,’ Topaz surmised, trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together.

  ‘And what about you two?’ Jake asked the others. ‘Did you discover anything?’

  ‘Yes,’ Topaz said. ‘That London is not the only city that has come under attack.’ She pulled one of Madame Fang’s handbills out of her pocket and set it down. ‘Your ships are doomed. Your civilization too. In the last few weeks, similar flyers have been left outside trading organizations in Amsterdam, Copenhagen, Cádiz, Marseilles and Genoa, each following an explosion either on a ship or in a warehouse.’ She fished out another piece of paper. ‘I managed to get this version, in Flemish, from a merchant with the Dutch East India Company.’ She held it up for Jake and Yoyo to see. ‘Different language, but the same writing, the same phrase.’

  UW SCHEPEN ZIJN VERDOEMD – UW BESCHAVING OOK.

  ‘Can I have a look?’ Yoyo asked, taking the flyer from Topaz and carefully comparing the versions.

  ‘Actually, the Dutch thought the British
were responsible for the sabotage in Amsterdam last week,’ Nathan chipped in. ‘That’s why they were in London – to investigate . . . This crab really is exceptional.’ He turned to Yoyo and winked. ‘Is there no end to your talents?’

  Topaz tutted irritably and steered them back to the subject at hand. ‘Which brings us to the question of where Xi Xiang has gone,’ she said.

  ‘I know this watermark,’ said Yoyo. ‘It’s the same on both sheets. Look there . . .’ The other three could just make out a faint imprint of Chinese characters set within the paper. ‘It’s obviously the insignia of Shen Pei-Pei.’

  ‘Obviously,’ Nathan agreed. ‘Remind me – who’s Shen Pei-Pei?’

  ‘Reclusive millionaire of the era,’ Topaz replied. ‘Right about now, he owns half of Canton. He has a giant porcelain works there, a fish sauce empire – and a paper factory, the largest in southern China. Where are we . . . 1612, so he must be almost eighty by now – though no one has seen him in decades.’

  ‘Oh, that Shen Pei-Pei.’ Nathan nodded. ‘I was getting him confused with the other Shen Pei-Pei – the one who breeds those funny cats with no fur.’

  ‘But the fact that this paper came from there tells us little,’ Topaz pointed out. ‘Xi Xiang may have simply bought it along with a million other Chinese.’

  ‘No.’ Yoyo tutted dismissively. ‘You’re missing the point: Shen Pei-Pei collects priceless relics – and a powerful tide stone would be the real prize of his collection.’

  ‘The Lazuli Serpent?’ Jake wondered out loud.

  ‘Precisely. He allegedly keeps his jewels in a treasure house in his garden – a golden pagoda.’

  Topaz thought quickly. ‘We leave for Canton tonight. We’ll take the Nightship.’

  ‘The Nightship!’ Nathan exclaimed. ‘Absolutely not. I’m not doing that again. Last time I nearly detonated. And my hair fell out, remember?’

  ‘That’s an absurd exaggeration,’ Topaz said. ‘You moulted a little.’

  Nathan eyeballed his sister. ‘It fell out in clumps! I’m not doing it,’ he insisted, stroking his lustrous mane as if it were a pet dog. ‘I’m nothing without my hair.’