“I don't know who is inside this egg. It could be my brother or my sister. My niece or my nephew. I don't know. But I do know there is a little part of me inside this egg. This egg holds the past and the future of my people. It is worth more to me than any amount of money. That is why I will fight for it. But I hope I don't have to.”
He climbed down from the crate. It had gone horribly quiet. The pirates were sneaking glances at each other but no one dared speak.
“Give me the egg,” said Lord Fox.
Barkbelly handed it over. The pirate captain gazed at it and traced the wood grain with a jeweled finger. He tossed it into the air and caught it. He nuzzled it. And then he threw it. Higher and higher it flew, over the heads of the pirates, over the side of the ship and—pdoosh!—everyone heard the sound of freedom. Lord Fox punched his fist in the air and picked up the opened crate. He carried it to the rail and emptied the eggs overboard.
“Bring me another!” he cried.
But no one did, because no one was listening. They were too busy barging their way into the hold. Every man wanted a crate of his own to empty and he was prepared to fight for it. With a pull and a punch and a kick and a tear and a spit and a shove and a handful of hair, they all claimed their prizes and carried them up into the sunshine. Then the egg hurling began. Some threw them like stones, hard and accurate. Some held them awhile, then dropped them gently into the foam. Some placed bets on who could throw the farthest. But all of them watched the eggs float away to freedom, and no one returned to work until they had disappeared.
When that moment came, Barkbelly suddenly felt a tugging on his britches. It was Snowbone.
“Tell me 'bout our people,” she said.
“What do you want to know?” said Barkbelly.
“Everything.”
Chapter 41
he sun was nearing the horizon when Lord Fox gave the order to abandon ship. The pirates scrambled over the rails and dropped onto the Mermaid's decks. With a push on the capstan, the anchor rose, the shrouds were unfurled and the pirate ship pulled away. Once a safe distance had been reached, the captain ordered the cannon to fire. The first volley took the Hope amidships, ripping an enormous hole in her timbers. The sea poured in through the wound. She started to list. A bell on her masthead began to toll all by itself.
As Barkbelly watched the galleon disappear, his emotions churned like the water around her. She had given him so many memories and not all were bad.
“She was a grand old dame,” said Griddle. “Bit poky in places, but grand nonetheless.”
“What will you do now?” said Barkbelly.
“Oh, I'll stay with Lord Fox for a while yet. He's always good company. And then, in time, I'll find a new ship.”
“Will you return to Lindenland? To Pebbleport?”
“Oh, yes! I'm Pebbleport to my bones. It's where I was born and where I'll be buried, if the waves don't claim me first. In the meadow, looking out to sea, with a gentle breeze playing around my headstone and a view of the sun going down. Aye, that'll do for me. And incidentally, if ever you need me, Pebbleport's the place to look. Ask at the Dog and Puddle, down on the quay. They'll know where I am. And what about you?”
“Well, I want to go to Ashenpeake,” said Barkbelly. “As soon as I can. I think I'll ask the captain for a boat.”
“I don't think you'll need to ask him, what with Snowbone and all them other babies underfoot. He won't want them on his island, you mark my words! No, I think he'll put as many as will go into a boat and send it on to Ashenpeake. North end of the island, I should think. No one lives up there, so they'll not be bothered. Oh, look—she's going.”
Nothing remained of the Hope now except her masts, silhouetted against the sunset, and as Barkbelly watched, they too disappeared beneath the waves. The water churned briefly, then settled into ripples of burnished gold.
“They do say,” said Griddle, “that all the shipwrecks in the ocean move across the seabed. They travel many miles until they reach the Silverana Sea. And there they stay: a great graveyard of ships, surrounded by a forest of seaweed, circling endlessly, round and round, for all eternity.”
“Is that a true story?”
The cook nodded.
“Wow,” said Barkbelly. “I would like to see that.”
“Happen you would! But you have things to do. Places to go. People to find. Have you forgotten?”
Forgotten? No. How could he? Ashenpeake had filled Barkbelly's thoughts from the moment he first heard about it. Whether he was asleep or awake or somewhere in between, Ashenpeake dominated his dreams. And now it lay just over the horizon, watching and waiting in the dark like a great bear. So close, he could almost hear it breathing.
Chapter 42
he seven-day voyage to Ashenpeake was surprisingly swift and enjoyable. Griddle took up residence in the Mermaid's galley but declined Barkbelly's reluctant offer of help.
“It's not that I'm ungrateful,” he said, “but I have a new assistant. And, in truth, he's considerably more able and infinitely more willing. So you can forget the dirty pots and do what you want for the rest of the voyage.”
And so Barkbelly became a true sailor, working between the sea and the sky. Surprisingly, Tanglebeard became his mentor. He taught him how to mend sails, tie knots and swab decks. Swabbing was backbreaking work, but Barkbelly loved it. He was given a brush, a bucket, a long rope, an endless supply of water—the sea—and told to get scrubbing. Tanglebeard explained to him that it must be done every day to prevent disease. This was something all sailors feared, along with fire and drowning—most of them couldn't swim. He also taught him the danger of ropes and cables. If a man was caught in a coiling rope, it would cut him in two.
“No!” said Barkbelly.
“Yes!” said Tanglebeard. “I've seen it myself. Arms and legs cut off, like slices of cheese.”
“No!”
“Yes! I don't know whether a rope would cut through you, as it would a flesh-and-blood man. Perhaps it would, perhaps it wouldn't. Either way, I don't care to see. Do you?”
Barkbelly gulped. “No, sir.”
“Then you just be careful. I've lost too many mates over the years. I don't want to lose another.”
Barkbelly stared at the pirate. At his beard, braided with blue ribbon. At his golden earrings, glinting through a tumble of hair. At his arms, more tattoo than skin. This man was an adventurer. There was nothing he hadn't seen. Nothing he wouldn't do. He was Danger and Daring.
“Am I really your mate?” said Barkbelly.
Tanglebeard nodded. “Until you beat me at cards. Then I'll slit your stomach and throw your gizzards to the gulls.” But he winked, and Barkbelly breathed again.
When Barkbelly wasn't working with Tanglebeard, he studied the wooden babies. Hundreds had been born during the pirate attack, but very few remained—no more than thirty. All the others had jumped overboard, to float away in search of adventure.
The babies were the first wooden people Barkbelly had seen and he was fascinated by their rapid growth. The Gantrys had told him the story of his birth, but until now that was exactly what he had thought it was—a story. He hadn't believed it was real.
But now he knew it was true and he tried desperately to remember exactly what he had seen during the pirate attack. It wasn't easy. The hold had been full of smoke at the time and he had been frantically trying to escape from the cage. But he could remember one thing: the horror he had felt when he saw the leathery sacs straining and bulging. They were so… reptilian. Horrible, nightmarish things. And to think he had started life like that… Urgh!
But the babies were most agreeable. They were bold and inquisitive, strong and sturdy. They never cried; they felt no pain. Barkbelly was astonished to see one toddler nose-dive from the rigging, hit the deck, bounce, pick himself up, giggle—and then begin the long climb back up the rigging to do it all again. This was Blackeye—the most adventurous of the babies. Like Snowbone, he was easy to identify. With Snow
bone, it was her pallor. With Blackeye, it was just that: a striking black eye paired with a common brown one.
Unlike Barkbelly, the pirates found the babies troublesome. There was nowhere they wouldn't explore, nothing they wouldn't chew, and they were always underfoot. They howled when they were hungry and ate such huge quantities of food, Griddle was worried that their supplies wouldn't last till land. But quite unexpectedly the problem was solved by a dead shark. The pirates had noticed the shark tailing the ship, speared it and hauled it up on deck. When they returned to it later, they found nothing but bare bones and a pile of snoring babies, their breath rusty with blood and their teeth tagged with flesh.
Griddle was delighted. “Saves me cooking for 'em,” he said. “They're greedy little beggars and they don't appreciate my subtle use of spices. Raw it is from now on.”
And so the supplies were saved for those who needed them. And the barefoot pirates never kicked the babies out of their way again.
Chapter 43
ord Fox was right. The view from the sea was amazing. On the morning of the seventh day, Barkbelly rose at dawn and climbed to the main top. There he sat, cursing the mist that refused to rise, preferring to filter the first rays of sun: lemon, gold, orange. But then, miraculously, the mist cleared and he saw it: a breathtakingly beautiful, snow-capped mountain, mantled in forest. Ashenpeake.
It completely dominated the island that bore its name. At this distance, the harbor town that nestled at its base was no bigger than Barkbelly's thumbnail, while the peak was two hands high. And Barkbelly knew: that harbor town, Fessel, was a thriving port, with thousands of inhabitants. It wasn't a fishing village. It only appeared so because of the immensity behind it.
As the Mermaid sailed north, skirting the island—as the sun rose higher behind the ashen peak—Barkbelly found that he was shaking. His whole body was aquiver; he ached with yearning. There was a whisper on the wind: his heart could hear it, as clearly as he could hear the gulls screaming overhead. The island was calling him home.
* * *
The pirates' hideaway was on a tiny island northwest of Ashenpeake. As the Mermaid drew close, puffins raced from the rocks and sped alongside. Gulls wheeled above, waiting for the scraps that would soon be thrown. And to Barkbelly's amazement, women and children appeared on the jetty that jutted out into the bay. Wives! Families! No one had mentioned them.
The Mermaid dropped anchor, the longboats were lowered, the pirates rowed ashore and the homecoming celebrations began. The men shaved and bathed, while the women prepared food and carried it to the beach. The children built bonfires and polished lanterns. By nightfall everything was ready. Then came the singing and dancing, the feasting and foolery, the stories and kisses… all under a sky peppered with stars.
Barkbelly was lazing on the jetty when Lord Fox found him.
“I know you want to be getting along,” he said, “but the chaps will need a day to unload the ship. So if you would like the longboats, you can have them the day after tomorrow. The chaps will take you and Snowbone and all the other little pop- pets to the north end of Ashenpeake, and then they'll come back here. How does that sound?”
“It sounds perfect,” said Barkbelly. “Just… perfect!”
Chapter 44
he departure day arrived with driving rain and a bitter wind. Barkbelly went to see Tanglebeard and Griddle for one last time and felt the old familiar pain. Is this what growing up is all about? Letting go and saying goodbye? Does it always have to be like this?
Then he returned to the beach, clambered into one of the longboats and wedged himself between Blackeye and another baby. At just ten days old, they were as big as five-year-olds, and they jostled him for space like cuckoos in a nest.
Snowbone was in the next boat. He could see her eyes shining, pale as pearls. She waved and grinned when she saw him.
Suddenly the boat was being pushed out into the waves. The pirates were heaving on the oars. The beach was receding. Tanglebeard and Griddle were standing there, waving. He was going.
He gave one last wave and turned away. Better to think about what's ahead than what's behind. But what was ahead? He had no idea.
He was so lost in thought, the journey was over before he realized. Suddenly he was looking at a beach. A long, narrow beach with black sand and beyond that—forest. Endless forest.
The boat scraped against the sand. The pirates leapt out and hauled it ashore. The passengers climbed out. Only Barkbelly remained. He had traveled so far, waited so long for this moment. Now it was here….
One of the pirates offered him his hand. Barkbelly took a deep breath and accepted it. Then he stepped out of the boat onto the black sand.
He had done it. He was home.
PART FIVE
Chapter 45
ow long do you think it would take me to walk from one end of this island to the other?”
“Don't know.”
“Guess.”
Barkbelly and Snowbone were sitting on the black beach, throwing pebbles into the breaking surf. The rain had stopped; a timid sun had appeared from behind the clouds. Everything was freshly washed and warming.
Snowbone thought for a moment. “If you walked in a straight line, right down the middle, I'd say… two weeks.”
“Yes. That's what I'd say,” said Barkbelly.
“Is that what you're planning to do?” asked Snowbone. “Walk the whole island?”
“No. Well, maybe. I don't really know. I want to find my family—my real, birth family—but I don't know where they are. And I don't know who they are. I don't even know my family name.”
Snowbone shrugged. “Why is it important? Finding your family?”
“I want to make things right,” said Barkbelly. “I was stolen.
The slave traders came and took me away from my parents. I want them to know I survived. And I want to know what they're like. They're part of me. A part that's missing. I want to feel whole. Complete. At peace.”
“I don't feel like I have a bit missing,” said Snowbone, “and I'm the same as you.”
“No, you're still young. This feeling grows on you. You see families. Your friends have brothers and sisters. You start to wonder. Anyway—what are you going to do?”
“Stay here,” said Snowbone. “Make camp. Grow up. Then I'll know what we have to do.”
“We? You mean the others? Will they stay here with you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.”
Barkbelly looked at her face and knew she was right.
“Look after yourself,” he said, standing up.
“And you,” said Snowbone. Then she smiled: a warm, baby smile. But her eyes were older and colder than the pebbles on the beach, and at that moment Barkbelly would sooner have kissed a wild dog than this strange, pale, wooden girl.
And so he walked away, up the beach to the forest edge, and there he turned for one last look. Snowbone was still sitting on the shoreline where he had left her, lost to the wind and the waves. He turned away. Back to face the forest: a silent world of sunlight and shadows, moss and fern.
“Let the search begin,” he said, and stepped inside.
Chapter 46
s Barkbelly plunged deeper into the forest, he wondered why it felt so familiar to him. He had grown up beneath the cover of Ferny Wood, of course, but this feeling went beyond that. And Ferny Wood was different. It teemed with life. Every leaf held an insect; every tree held a bird. There were flowers to pick and fruit to find. This forest was a wasteland in comparison. Yet something about its very emptiness was curiously comforting.
For the first few hours, he bounded between the trees. After so long at sea, he had forgotten how wonderful it was to walk. To feel the earth beneath his feet. But as the day wore on, he began to worry. Exactly how big was this forest? Was he walking out of it or still walking in? Was he lost? How would he survive? There was nothing to eat. No nuts or berries. Nothing.
He walked on, but it was growing murkier by the minute. Night was falling, and without light, he would lose the path altogether. It was time to stop.
He curled up at the foot of a pine and stared into the trees. Darkness came silently, like a herd of deer. Soon he could see nothing—not even his boots. But strangely, with the darkness came sounds. The forest had seemed utterly lifeless during the day, but now… Unseen hoofs trampled the forest floor. Snouts upturned the earth. Owls flew so low he could feel the downbeat of their wings. Cries cut through the night as talons found fur.
Rain began to fall. Barkbelly could hear it rattling on the forest canopy. Soon the drips fell through, drip—drip—drip, like the ticking of a clock. And with this lullaby, he drifted into sleep.
By morning, the rain had passed. He awoke to find that a ring of mushrooms had grown around him and he feasted happily. Then he drank from a nearby spring and ambled on.
In time, he saw the sunlight turning from freckles into pools. The forest was thinning. And suddenly he found a glade, with a cloudless sky above and a house in the middle. A rickety timber house with a tin roof, a squat chimney and dozens of pots and pans dangling from the eaves. And in front of it was a tinker man, cleaning knives.
The tinker looked up and waved. “Hello there!” He beckoned Barkbelly closer. “It's a grand day, isn't it?”
“It is,” said Barkbelly, staying where he was.
“I'm just about to put the kettle on. Do you fancy a cup of tea?” The tinker put down his knife. “I've had breakfast. I won't eat you. I have cake! Come on. You know you want to.” He cocked his head to one side like a robin and smiled roguishly.
“Thank you,” said Barkbelly after some deliberation. “That would be nice.”
The tinker disappeared into his house. Barkbelly followed him in. There was just one room, with an earth floor, a table, two upright chairs, an armchair, a cupboard, a rumpled bed and a small stove.
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