Matt, Corey, and Ruby were escorted out of the palace by a servant. Matt was glad it wasn’t Sir Robert. That man gave him the creeps. The sky had darkened and sleet was now falling, stinging Matt’s nose and cheeks. Matt tightened his cloak around his neck. None of them spoke as they walked down the long path toward the gate. With each step Matt felt his heart sinking farther into his stomach, and his stomach twisting up in knots. They’d come too late. They’d failed the mission. Again.
“She was a bit scary, wasn’t she?” said Corey as soon as they were outside the gates. “Let me see the letter.” Matt realized he was still clutching the envelope. A few drops of sleet had splashed on the paper.
“I think we should give it to the captain first,” said Ruby. “It’s sealed, and he might not like it if we read it before him.”
“Whatever,” said Corey. “We’re the ones who just put our necks on the line, and I want to know what it says.” He tried to grab the letter from Matt, but Matt pulled it away and tucked it inside the back of his pants, tightening the strings to make sure it was secure.
“What are we going to tell the captain?” said Ruby.
“The truth. What else can we tell him?” said Matt, though the thought sickened him.
“Do you think we should mention that the man had the compass, though?” Ruby asked. “I mean, if that’s true, it means at some point the captain doesn’t have it. That might really worry him.”
“Unless it was a different compass,” said Corey. “There could be more than one.”
“Or it could be before the captain ever got it,” said Matt.
“The inventor!” said Ruby. “Do you think?”
“Maybe . . . ,” said Matt. “Let’s just give the captain the letter. For all we know it explains everything.”
The sleet began to fall harder. The streets were a mixture of ice and mud. People were running for cover, pulling in laundry that was hanging out of their windows and closing the shutters. The little beggar boy was still crouched up against a building, seemingly not at all bothered by the poor weather, but when he saw them, he dashed away, which Matt thought was odd. Did they frighten him somehow?
The captain was waiting right where they’d left him. He eagerly waved for them to join him between the buildings.
“Did you get it? Where is it? What is it?” he asked excitedly.
Matt started to reach for the letter, but then the captain put a hand up. “Wait,” he said, his body suddenly tense. He squinted out into the drizzling sleet and snow. Matt turned around. The streets were quite empty now, except for a burly man standing stock-still in the rain, looking right toward them. About twenty feet away from that man, Matt saw another man. He was handing something to the beggar boy. The boy closed his outstretched hand and scampered away. Matt squinted and drew in a sharp breath. “That man was guarding us at the palace,” said Matt.
“Let’s move this way,” said the captain, pulling them between the buildings to the other side.
They moved through the streets quickly, dodging stray dogs, slipping on muddy slush and ice. Matt looked over his shoulder to find both men following them. The hairs on the back of his neck lifted and he got goose bumps on his arms that he knew had nothing to do with the cold.
“Captain,” said Matt.
The captain glanced behind him. “Let’s move faster,” he said.
They started to run, but as they neared the end of the village, another man rounded a building, short and hunchbacked. Sir Robert Cecil.
“Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, desires an audience with you, Captain Vincent,” he said, a grim smile on his face. “Your charming children are also requested.”
The captain didn’t reply, except to draw his sword, but just as he did so, an arrow came whirring past and stuck in the ground, mere feet from where the captain stood.
Ruby screamed and covered her head. Matt looked up and spotted a man with a bow and arrow on a rooftop. He was nocking another arrow in his bow, taking aim.
Captain Vincent saw it as well. He shoved Sir Robert hard, knocking him to the ground. “Run!” he shouted.
Matt didn’t hesitate for a moment. They ran, though it was difficult on the icy, muddy roads. Ruby was further encumbered by her dress. She began to fall behind, but the captain wasn’t slowing down. He was running as fast as he could toward the river, where the Vermillion was waiting. They weren’t too far now, but the men were gaining on them. There were at least three of them, maybe more, and they all had weapons—bows and arrows, swords and daggers.
Matt spotted the barge ahead. They were almost there. He could see the rest of the crew watching for them from the deck. Brocco had placed a wide plank between the barge and the riverbank. The captain leaped over it completely and landed. He immediately took out the compass.
“Run, Mateo!” the captain called. He was already starting to turn the dials, before the rest of them got on board.
“Hurry!” said Matt. He pushed Ruby ahead of him. She lifted her skirt and ran along the plank. Brocco grabbed her by the arm and helped her aboard. Corey went next, teetering a little before making a final jump to safety. Matt took one glance over his shoulder. The burly man was almost to him. Matt jumped onto the plank, but just as he did he saw Albert lower a stick and give a quick shove off the bank. The plank slid from the barge and Matt fell, hitting his chin on the board as he toppled into the icy river.
Ruby screamed.
“Matt!” Corey shouted. “He’s in the water! He’s not on the boat!”
Matt flailed his arms, sputtering from the shock of the cold. The water around the barge began to churn like whitewater rapids. The barge stretched and widened. It was transforming.
“Help him!” Ruby screamed.
Someone dropped down a rope. He grabbed it, just as someone else grabbed his collar.
“I got one!”
Matt clung to the rope, wrapped his legs around it, and then the roiling water shot up all around the barge like a dozen fire hoses. There was a bright flash of light, and then, with the force of a rocket, Matt shot down into the ice-cold water.
18
The Letter
Hold on to the rope.
That was the only thought in Matt’s brain. There wasn’t room for anything else, and yet he seemed to be feeling everything all at once. He felt as though he were being flushed down a toilet. He was being squeezed inside a narrow pipe. He was compressed on all sides, crunched down like an empty soda can and then stretched in all directions. He was pulled and squished all at once. He was freezing cold and then he was boiling hot. There was light and then darkness. And then there was nothing—no sound, no space, no air, no feeling. There was only his one thought.
Hold on to the rope.
He couldn’t feel the rope anymore, but in the deepest recesses of his brain he was holding it.
And then he was born again. First there was water. He could feel it again, the cold. He could feel his lungs burning, too, desperate for air. Then there was light, only a pinprick, but it drew closer, or he drew closer, and the light spread and diffused, and he wasn’t sure what he should do. He was still clinging to the rope. That was all he knew how to do. The rope was pulling him up and up until he finally broke through the barrier and there was air.
He gasped.
“Hold on, Matt!” said a voice. He wasn’t sure whose it was, though it sounded vaguely familiar. He wasn’t sure who Matt was either. Was that supposed to be him?
He held on to the rope. He was pulled up and out of the water, and then grabbed by several hands and hauled over the side of a ship. He flopped onto the deck.
“Give him space,” said a deep voice. Captain Vincent.
He coughed and vomited water, breathed some more. He blinked a few times and opened his eyes. Above him was a gray, cloudy sky. A cool breeze brushed his face, and he shivered with cold. For one panicked moment he thought they might still be in England, but then he noticed the many white sails of the ship, the topmost blac
k flag of the star and V of the Vermillion. They were back on the frigate in Nowhere in No Time.
“It’s all right, Mateo,” said the captain. He was leaning over him. “You’re safe now. You can let go of the rope.”
Matt realized he was still clinging to it for life. He had to concentrate on prying his frozen fingers off of it. He turned his head and saw Ruby and Corey kneeling next to him. Ruby was clutching Corey’s arm and crying. Corey was pale, his expression shocked and worried.
“And I thought I was the reckless one,” said Corey. “What did you go and do that for, bro? You crazy?”
Matt lifted a fist in the air. “YOLO,” he croaked.
Ruby sputtered a laugh through her tears.
Matt started to sit up. He winced.
“Your chin is bleeding,” said Ruby. “It looks like you need stitches.”
He touched his chin. It stung, but the pain of it brought back his memory more fully. He remembered trying to leap for the boat. He remembered Albert . . .
Matt looked around. He found Albert staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. A surge of anger rose in him. “You . . . ,” he started to say, but his voice caught in his throat.
Albert backed away. “I didn’t mean to!” he squeaked. “It was an accident!”
“What do you mean, an accident?” said Ruby. “What happened?”
“You pushed him off, didn’t you?” said Corey.
“No!” said Albert.
“You’ve hated us ever since we came on board,” said Corey. “You almost got Matt killed!”
“Albert,” Jia gasped. “How could you?”
Captain Vincent didn’t speak at all. He took action, swift and strong.
He hauled Albert up by the collar. Even with Albert’s considerable bulk, the captain swung him over the side of the ship as though he were nothing more than a fish on a string.
“You want to throw someone’s life away? Throw away your own.” He lowered Albert, and Albert started squealing like an animal about to be slaughtered.
The captain’s eyes were two black holes in his head, void of all feeling. It reminded Matt of the black, bottomless nothing he’d felt when he’d been dragged beneath the Vermillion. He couldn’t bear it. The air was being pressed out of his lungs and wouldn’t inflate again. This wasn’t right, even if it was Albert. Even if he did try to leave him behind.
“It wasn’t his fault!” shouted Matt.
The captain looked over at Matt. Albert stopped flailing.
“What do you mean?” said the captain.
Matt tried to think quickly. “Albert was trying to help me,” he said. “He lowered a stick for me to grab on to, but . . . the stick snapped and I fell.”
“I don’t believe you,” said the captain. His eyes were still dark, so cold and empty, and Matt wondered if he was now looking at the real captain, if the smiles and seemingly generous nature had been a carefully crafted mask. His chest tightened even more, constricting his heart.
“But that’s what happened,” said Matt. “Ask Albert. He’ll tell you.”
“Yes, yes!” Albert squeaked. “I was trying to help!”
The captain looked at Matt for another moment, still holding Albert by the neck over the side of the ship. Matt knew he didn’t believe him, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was keeping Albert alive, and the captain wouldn’t kill him if Matt said he was innocent.
Captain Vincent flung Albert onto the deck. Albert scrambled on hands and knees to the side of the ship. He curled up in a ball, covered his head, and whimpered. “I didn’t, I didn’t,” he continued to say, until Captain Vincent gave him a rough kick.
“You’ve got some nerve,” he said, then he turned sharply back to Matt. “Well? Let’s have it then.”
Matt blinked, unsure what the captain meant. And then he remembered the letter. He’d been about to hand it over to the captain when they’d noticed the queen’s spy. Matt pulled out the letter. It was wet, probably unreadable now. The captain stared down at it.
“That’s it?” he said, clearly disappointed.
“I’m sorry,” said Matt. “Someone had already come, and the queen . . .”
The captain just stared at the letter in Matt’s outstretched hand. Finally he took it and tore open the soggy envelope. Matt could see that the ink was smeared but still legible apparently, because the captain feverishly read the letter. His face dropped with every line. When he reached the bottom his eyes twitched a little, and then he crumpled the letter in his hand and stormed away without a word.
Brocco and Wiley followed the captain. Jia then took Pike’s hand and led her away, leaving the Hudsons and Albert alone.
“You should have let the captain discard him,” said Corey. “He deserved it.”
“Why did you lie?” said Ruby. “I mean, he did try to lose you, didn’t he?”
Matt nodded.
“Then why?”
Matt looked over at Albert. He was still huddled against the side of the ship, crying. “If you had experienced what I just had,” said Matt, “you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy.”
The gray sky rumbled, and it started to rain. It seemed the gloomy weather had followed them from England.
“Come on, let’s leave this loser to himself,” said Corey. He held a hand out to Matt and helped him up. He winced as he stood. Everything hurt, his head, his arms, his hands, his shins. As they descended the steps Matt glanced back at Albert, and guessed that he was probably hurting more.
The Vermillion was quiet and subdued for the rest of the day. The loudest sound was the rain and wind lashing against the ship, the creaks and groans as it rocked on the waves. Matt was now shaking with cold. Ruby told him he needed to change before he got hypothermia, so he made his way to their room. The pain of all his cuts and bruises really began to sink in. His chin was still bleeding. It had dripped and smeared all over his freezing, soaking-wet clothes. He peeled them off, leaving them in a heap beneath his hammock, and put on his clothes from home, his Mets hoodie and hat, and as soon as he did he had a sudden and sharp longing for home, for his mom and dad. He wished they were here with him right now. He wanted his mom to fret over him, check his heartbeat, his blood pressure and temperature. He wanted to watch a baseball game with his dad, hear one of his corny jokes, or just see him asleep in his chair with a book lying open on his chest.
There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” said Matt.
Jia stepped in carrying a shoe box. “I’ve brought you some medicine and bandages,” she said. She set the box down on one of the crates. It was full of bandages, antiseptics, and some other medicines, some in old-fashioned tins and jars with droppers, and others the traditional orange pill bottles of a modern pharmacy.
“Thanks,” said Matt. Jia stood awkwardly. She looked around and finally sat on the floor. Matt sat with her, wincing a bit. He was very sore. Time-traveling outside of a vessel was ill advised, he decided. Maybe he’d write that in a book someday.
“You need to make sure the wound is clean first,” said Jia. She took a bottle of antiseptic and poured it onto some cotton. She held it out to Matt. He dabbed it on his chin and sucked in a breath.
“Sorry,” said Jia. “I should have warned you it would sting.”
“No, it’s okay. I knew it would.” He pressed the cotton ball on his chin until it stopped burning. Jia gently placed two butterfly bandages on the wound. “Try not to smile,” she said, and of course Matt couldn’t help but smile. “Stop! You’ll pull the bandages off.”
“Sorry,” said Matt. He had to bite his cheeks to keep from smiling. He could tell Jia was doing the same.
“There’s some salve, too, for your rope burns.” She took one of the old-looking jars and pulled off the lid. “It’s an old Chinese medicine.” A very pleasant aroma was released, floral and minty. Matt took some of the cream and rubbed it on his hands. It cooled and soothed the pain immediately.
“Thank you,” he said.
“I wa
s really scared,” said Jia in a small voice.
“Me too,” said Matt.
“I thought you were going to die.”
“Me too.”
“Are you going to leave?”
The question caught Matt off guard. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Jia was his friend, and he didn’t want to hurt her, but he also knew it would be worse to lie. “I haven’t talked to Corey and Ruby about it,” said Matt, “or the captain, but we’ll probably have to sometime soon. We have our parents, you know, and they’d be devastated if something happened to any of us.”
Jia nodded but didn’t meet his eyes. “There’s something I think I need to show you.” Jia reached inside one of her many pockets and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper with smeared ink. It was the letter.
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
Jia looked around, almost to make absolutely sure they were alone.
“I found it in the captain’s office,” she whispered, “when I was bringing him some coffee and food. I didn’t know what it was, exactly. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it except I saw . . .” She didn’t seem to be able to articulate what exactly she saw. She handed the letter to Matt.
Matt took the paper and unfolded it. It was difficult to read with the smeared ink, and the handwriting wasn’t exactly neat anyway, but he was able to read and comprehend it well enough.
DEAR CAPTAIN VINCENT,
YOU THINK YOU CAN SHOW UP WHEREVER, WHENEVER TO TAKE WHATEVER AND NO ONE WILL BE THE WISER, BUT IF YOU ARE READING THIS LETTER, YOU KNOW I’VE GOT MY EYE ON YOU AT ALL TIMES. MOST RECENTLY (OR NOT SO RECENTLY) MY MAPS SHOWED THE VERMILLION AT THE SIEGE OF ASCALON. ISN’T WAR A THIEVES’ PARADISE? SO MUCH GOES MISSING WITHOUT A TRACE. NO DOUBT YOU MADE FRIENDS WITH THE KNIGHTS TEMPLAR.
YOU MAY POSSESS THE OBSIDIAN COMPASS FOR NOW, AND I KNOW YOU THINK IT WILL MAKE YOU IN-VINCE-IBLE (HA!), BUT YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND ITS FULL POWER. AND THOUGH YOU MAY POSE A THREAT TO MY FAMILY, I WILL NEVER LET HARM COME TO THEM BY YOU OR ANY OTHER. I UNDERSTAND YOU FEEL YOU’VE BEEN ROBBED, BUT HOW CAN ANYONE STEAL SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO NO ONE? YOUR POSSESSIVE NATURE HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOUR DOWNFALL, VINCE, AND SHOULD YOU CONTINUE YOUR CRUSADE FOR THAT WHICH WAS NEVER YOURS, IT WILL PROVE YOUR FULL DESTRUCTION.
Time Castaways #1 Page 21
