by Lian Tanner
Petrel followed him. ‘Here, Krill, we brought you some limpets.What’s this about the Devouts? I thought they were gone.’
Hungry as he was, the big man brushed the food aside. ‘They were searching all over. Sheer luck they didn’t find me and the cap’n. You’ve gotta go before that luck runs ou—’
He was interrupted by the chatter of the telegraph device. And this time, the message was not from the Oyster.
Have boarded small underwater vessel Claw. Need your position. Signed, Slink.
It was the most beautiful sound Petrel had ever heard. She put her hand over her mouth, hardly able to contain her relief, and when she took it away, she was smiling for the first time in days.
She poked her head out of the shelter. ‘Cap’n! Mister Smoke and Missus Slink have found an underwater vessel and they’re coming to get us! What’s our position?’
‘But we have not found the Song or the Singer yet,’ said the captain, crawling in to join them.The pigeon fluttered after him.‘We cannot go.’
Petrel sat back on her heels.The captain was smarter than all the rest of the Oyster’s crew put together, but once he settled on an idea, it was hard to shift him. And the search for the Song and the Singer seemed to have gripped him like nothing else.
It’s that programming stuff, she thought. Feels as if someone’s reaching out from the long-ago and moving us around to suit themselves. Which is all very clever, but what if it doesn’t suit us?
Aloud, she said, ‘Song’s not going to do anyone much good, Cap’n, if Albie overruns the bridge and takes the Oyster back south without us.’ Inspiration struck her. ‘And – and besides, maybe the Singer is on this underwater vessel!’
The captain nodded. ‘That is logical.Very well, our position is fifty degrees thirty minutes north, seven degrees twelve minutes west.’ He stroked the pigeon’s feathers.‘But according to my charts, the water on this coast is dangerously shallow. A large vessel will not be able to get anywhere near us.’
‘It’s all right, it’s small,’ said Petrel. ‘Missus Slink said so.’
She tapped out the coordinates in general ship code and waited, breathless, for a reply. It came quicker than she expected.
Estimate time of travel twenty-one hours forty-four minutes.
‘We’ll have to help you down to the water, Krill,’ she said.
‘I’m better than I was,’ said Krill.‘I’ll get there.’
Petrel beamed at him. ‘And then we’ll be heading back to the ship, and everything’ll be all right. Folk won’t want to follow Albie once they know how he lied to ’em. And Squid and Dolph’ll be safe and we’ll—’
‘Shhh!’ Fin grabbed her arm.
‘What?’
Very quietly, Fin said, ‘The Devouts have returned. I think they heard us.’
Petrel shot up so fast that she almost fell over. ‘Where?’
Fin pointed. And there were the same two men, sitting very still on their horses, and staring in the direction of the shelter.
‘Blizzards!’ whispered Petrel. ‘We’ve got to get out of here! Krill—’
The Head Cook picked up a rock and hefted it in his hand. ‘You three go. Creep out the back way. I’ll keep ’em busy for as long as I can.’
‘No,’ whispered Petrel, coming to a rapid decision. ‘Fin and I’ll draw ’em off. Cap’n, will you stay here with Krill?’
The captain looked as if he was about to argue. Petrel said quickly,‘You can’t run as fast as Fin and me. It’s logical, right?’
The captain nodded. ‘It is logical.’ Then he looked out one of the peepholes and said, ‘They are coming this way.’
Petrel grabbed the telegraph device, worried that it might start clattering again and give away the position of the hidey-hole.‘Fin, let’s go,’ she whispered.And the two of them crawled out the back exit.
The horses were snorting like whales, and stamping their hooves.The children crept away from the shelter, still hidden by the bushes and rocks.
Can’t jump up too soon, thought Petrel, or they’ll figure out where we came from. Can’t go too late or they’ll find Krill and the cap’n. A bit further . . . A bit further . . . Now! With a yelp, she leapt to her feet, as if she’d been tucked up in the bushes and had only just noticed the Devouts. Fin was a heartbeat behind her, crying, ‘It is them! Run!’
And run they did.
When Sharkey woke up at last, he was lying on the berth above the batteries with a rabbit stitching his shoulder.
Despite the sharp pain of the needle, he thought he must still be asleep. He thought it was a dream and that any minute now he’d see Adm’ral Deeps flying past in a cart, with an arrow in her hand. Because that’s the sort of thing that happened in dreams.
But instead of the adm’ral, what he saw was Poddy, leaning over him with an expression that was half-worried, half-jumping out of her skin with excitement.
‘Sir, you’re awake!’ she cried. She turned her head. ‘Gilly, Cuttle, he’s awake!’
The needle bit into Sharkey’s shoulder and he winced, and turned his head to peer at the rabbit. Its ears weren’t as big as he remembered, and its tail was long and grey instead of short and white. It was poking the needle in and out of his flesh, right where the arrow had come through, and muttering to itself. Around its neck was a tattered green ribbon.
Sharkey winced again, and croaked,‘R-rabbit.’
‘It is a rat,’ said Rain, from his other side, in disapproving tones. ‘It sneaked onto Claw with us. Or rather, they did.’
‘That’s right, shipmate,’ said a rough little voice. ‘There’s two of us.’And a long grey nose, with whiskers sprouting from it, poked over Sharkey’s good shoulder.
He was glad of the distraction. He dragged his eyes away from the needle and said, ‘You – warned me. Back there. You – warned me about the trap. Why?’
Poddy leaned over him again and whispered, her eyes as bright as the sun,‘Cos it’s them, sir! It’s them!’
Sharkey had no idea what she was talking about, and his shoulder was hurting too much for him to work it out. With a groan, he closed his eye and went back to sleep.
When he woke the second time, there was an argument going on above his head.
‘Rats cannot talk,’ said Rain. ‘I have never heard of such a thing.’
‘That’s cos you’re from the Up Above,’ retorted Poddy, ‘and there’s plenty you haven’t heard of. I bet you think turtles can’t talk either, or dolphins. But they talk to Sharkey.’
His nose was running. He sniffed, and both girls leaned over him. ‘Where are we?’ he croaked.
‘Heading sou’-sou’-west, sir,’ said Poddy,‘as ordered.’
‘Wha—?’ Sharkey rubbed his eye, wondering if he’d misheard her. He hadn’t given any orders, had he? ‘W-What’s the time?’
Cuttle, who was at the helm, looked over his shoulder. ‘Seventy-five minutes till sunclimb, sir. You slept right through.’
‘You should’ve woken me,’ said Sharkey.
‘You lost a lot of blood,’ said Rain.‘The rats advised us—’ She hesitated, as if she still didn’t want to admit that rats could talk.
Poddy broke in. ‘They said we should let you sleep as long as you wanted, sir.’
Sharkey rubbed his eye again.The rumble of diesels cut through his muddled thoughts, and he struggled up onto one elbow, grimacing with pain. ‘We’re running on the surface?’
‘Aye, sir,’ said Cuttle.
‘Who’s on watch?’ Sharkey felt a surge of panic, remembering what had happened to Rampart. ‘We are keeping a watch?’
‘Course we are, sir,’ said Poddy.‘Don’t worry, everything’s good. Gilly’s up above. And he’s got the conn.’
‘Who’s he? And why are we going sou’-sou’-west? Did I give you the direction?’
‘Nay,’ said Poddy.‘It was him.’
Sharkey felt as if he was going around in circles. ‘Who?’
Poddy beamed.‘Great Gra
nfer, of course.’
‘Great Gran— What are you talking about, Pod?’
Poddy edged back a little so Sharkey could see the two rats. ‘It’s them, sir,’ she said proudly. ‘They’ve come to help us. It’s Lin Lin and Adm’ral Cray!’
LIN LIN AND ADM’RAL CRAY
I’m going mad, thought Sharkey. The sun must’ve scorched my brain.
He stared at the rat.‘Adm’ral Cray,’ he said flatly.
The rat looked back at him, its fur scruffy, its silver eyes expressionless.‘That’s what they call me, shipmate.’
‘And Lin Lin,’ said Sharkey.
The second rat, the one with the green ribbon, bobbed its head.‘At your service.’
I need air, thought Sharkey. I need—
He grabbed hold of the periscope casing with one hand, dragged himself upright and hung on until his head stopped swimming. Then he said, ‘I have the conn. Poddy, stop both motors.’
Poddy didn’t move.‘But sir, the adm’ral said—’
‘I don’t care what the adm’ral said. I’m in charge of this boat.’
‘Aye . . . sir,’ said Poddy, as if there was some doubt about it. ‘But we have to keep going.’
‘They’ve got friends who’re stranded, sir,’ said Cuttle.‘We have to get there as quick as we can.’
Sharkey couldn’t believe it.They were arguing with him! The middies were arguing with him!
He set his teeth in a snarl.‘Who’s your cap’n, Poddy?’
‘You are, sir. But Adm’ral Cray said—’
‘Stop. Both. Motors.’
Rain looked pleased. Poddy looked as if someone had smacked her, but she trotted back to the big switches without further argument. Claw slowed. The rats watched and listened, their heads swivelling back and forth like little grey rudders.
Sharkey didn’t care what any of them thought. He was in charge, no one else. The submersible wasn’t going anywhere without his orders, and he hadn’t yet decided what those orders would be.
I need air.
Climbing up the conning tower was a challenge with only one good arm. He managed it without groaning, but by the time he stepped out onto the open deck, he was shaking with pain.
Gilly sprang to her feet when she saw him and said, ‘Sir, you shouldn’t be up here. Go and rest. We’re all right, we’ve got the adm’ral and Lin Lin to—’
‘Shut up,’ said Sharkey.‘Just – shut up.And go below.’
‘But I’m on watch, sir.’
‘Don’t argue! I’ll take the watch. Go below.’
And then it was just him, sitting there with the stars above and the dark waves rising and falling around him, and his mind trying to tear itself in two.
Adm’ral Cray? Lin Lin? Really?
He shook his head. Nay.
But what if—?
Nay, I don’t believe it.
The middies did, though, which he was going to have to change, quick smart.
They argued with me! Cuttle and Poddy ARGUED with me! They’ve never done that before.
Uncertainty hit him again. What if the rats really were Lin Lin and Adm’ral Cr—
NAY!
He wasn’t thinking clearly, that was the problem. He hadn’t been thinking clearly since Rampart went down. That had torn something out of him, and now, whatever he did seemed to make things worse.
What was it the Ghosts had shouted when they saw him? Brother Thrawn was right, there are more of them! Which meant they hadn’t known for sure that there was another submersible. Not until Sharkey had turned up and proved it.
I shouldn’t have gone, he thought. I’ve put Claw at risk. I’ve put ALL of us at risk.
He wasn’t used to being in the wrong, and it made him angry. With himself, with the middies, with the pain in his shoulder, which was getting worse instead of better.With the rats.
Mustn’t forget I’m on watch.
He glanced around the horizon, knowing he’d see nothing. The skimmers were never about this early. Suntime was when the Ghosts went hunting, and by then Claw’d be deep in the Undersea. And Sharkey’d be laying down the law to his crew.
I’m in charge. No one else, no matter who they claim to be.
He heard a quick scuff of feet climbing the conning tower, and turned his back. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, not yet. Not with this fizz of anger and confusion in his belly.
‘Sir?’ It was Poddy, right behind him.
‘Go away, Pod.’
‘Sir, we thought you’d be pleased.’
Sharkey stared at the eastern horizon.‘Go away.’
‘But sir, they’re the ancestors.’
‘Don’t be a fool, Poddy.’
‘They are. I knew it as soon I saw them. And – and sir, if Adm’ral Deeps is alive then maybe Ma and Fa are too, and we can rescue all of ’em and get Rampart watertight again, and everything’ll be back the way it used to be!’
Sharkey’s shoulder felt as if the arrow was still in there, jabbing away at him until he wanted to scream. And now here was Poddy jabbing away too.
‘Can’t we do what they say, sir? Can’t we go and find their friends, who are in trouble? And then we could ask ’em for help.’
He wanted to stop her and didn’t know how. Not without admitting that the whole talking-to-the-ancestors business was a lie. And if he told her that, the middies would never listen to him again.
There was a bitter taste in his mouth. It had been there, he realised, ever since he saw Adm’ral Deeps through the telling-scope. Because Poddy was right – if the adm’ral was alive then maybe everyone else was too. Maybe they were sitting in the Ghosts’ camp, expecting Sharkey to rescue them.
Because he was a hero.
It was as if Poddy could read his thoughts. ‘They’ll be waiting for us, sir. Ma and Fa and all the others. They know we’ll come for ’em. And we will, won’t we? ’Specially now we’ve got the ancestors.’
It was too much for Sharkey. His guilt flared white-hot and he whirled around, so quick and nasty-faced that Poddy flinched backwards. ‘If it was the ancestors,’ he snarled, ‘you wouldn’t hear ’em talk, cos you’re just an ordinary little middy and why would they want to talk to a middy, eh? They talk to me, cos I’m favoured, I’m going to be adm’ral one day—’
It was like listening to someone else. He tried to stop, and couldn’t. The bitterness spilled out like poison, and Poddy copped every bit of it.
‘—I’ll be adm’ral one day and you’ll still be nothing, so shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Lin Lin and Adm’ral Cray don’t care what happens to us, which means your ma and fa are lost and so’s Adm’ral Deeps and the babies and the salties and everyone else, and you might as well get used to it.’
Then he turned his back again, and sat trembling with anger and indignation.
He heard a gulp behind him, but didn’t turn around. I’m just telling her the truth, he thought. I’m doing her a favour.
Another gulp, quickly covered up.Then Poddy said, in a small voice, ‘If we’re not going anywhere just yet, may I – may I go for a swim, sir?’
Sharkey heaved a put-upon sigh.‘I suppose so.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ And with that, she wriggled out of her jerkin and trousers and slid over the side, into a sea that was as grey as the pre-dawn sky.
Sharkey knew he should call her back, but he was stuck in place, the poison in his blood turned to glue.
It had to be said, he told himself. She’s got to stop believing that we’re going to get the others back. It’s a stupid waste of time.We should be getting on with our lives.
He wished it was him who’d gone for a swim instead of Poddy. Not that he could swim with his shoulder like this. Not that he could do anything. He was useless. One eye and one arm.
The bitterness filled him again and he sat there feeling sorry for himself and wondering if Poddy’d get back before the sun roared up over the horizon. If she didn’t, they’d have to stay Up Above and risk g
etting eaten by the Hungry Ghosts.
Except – Adm’ral Deeps hadn’t got eaten.And Rain wasn’t at all dangerous. In fact, she’d saved Sharkey’s life. So was it true or wasn’t it, what the Sunkers had always believed?
As Sharkey sat there, trying to make sense of it, the sky grew lighter and the nor’-westerly wind picked up. It wasn’t long before he began to worry. Poddy should’ve been back by now. Everyone knew how far you could swim before sunclimb, and everyone was careful.
‘Where are you, Pod?’ he muttered, not looking up. ‘What are you playing at? You get back here, quick smart.’
Half of him thought she was probably no more than a few yards away, treading water. Playing a trick to get back at him for the things he’d said. But the other half knew that he shouldn’t have let her go. It was risky swimming alone when your feelings were hurt.
‘Poddy?’ he called, over his shoulder. ‘You there?’
No answer. Sharkey climbed to his feet and turned around, feeling angry all over again for the worry she was causing him. He squinted at the edges of the boat to see if she was hiding. Then he raised his eye towards the west – and saw four skimmers, bearing down on Claw, with the first no more than half a sea mile away.
Sharkey’s heart almost stopped beating. Skimmers before sunclimb? He’d never heard of such a thing. But there they were!
He leapt for the conning tower, with the word ‘Dive!’ on his lips. Then he remembered Poddy. They couldn’t dive, not while she was still out there.
‘Poddy!’ he shouted, scanning the water for that small dark head. ‘Poddy!’
Gilly came scrambling up from below. ‘What’s the matter, sir?’
‘Skimmers!’ cried Sharkey. ‘And Poddy’s out there somewhere and I can’t see her!’
Gilly dived down the hatch again and came back with the telling-scope in her hand, and Rain and the rats at her heels. Sharkey grabbed the telling-scope and jammed it to his good eye, but it didn’t tell him a thing. He swept it north and south, east and west, right up to the approaching skimmers and back again, but he couldn’t find Poddy anywhere. All he saw was grey light and grey water, and the white sails closing in.
