The Hotel Under the Sand

by Kage Baker

  “Was it just you and your father?”

  “No. My mother was in the act. ‘The Astonishing Wenlocke and Melusine, his Lovely Assistant!’ She had a beautiful costume with spangles and wore a tiara with feathers. And if the accident hadn’t happened—” Masterman scowled, and jabbed his spoon into his grapefruit half so hard a squirt of grapefruit juice shot across the table. “I was going to be in the act too, as soon as I turned five. My mother would have made me a costume and everything.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Emma.

  “But one night they put me to bed in our room in the hotel, just as they always did,” said Masterman. “And they kissed me goodnight and went off to the theater, just as they always did. When I woke up in the morning, I thought they’d be there, just as they always used to be, having breakfast. But that morning, they weren’t.

  “I waited and waited, and when they didn’t come back I called Room Service and ordered my own breakfast. I had pancakes with four different kinds of syrup, and coffee with extra sugar, and ice cream. I ate breakfast and then I bounced on the beds, and then I bounced on the couch, and then I bounced on the armchairs.

  “But my parents still hadn’t come home by lunchtime. So I called Room Service and ordered lunch. I had chocolate cheesecake and orange soda and more coffee with extra sugar and ice cream. Then I bounced on the beds some more. Then I moved the furniture around and made a fort. Then I played with my father’s stage makeup and drew a beard and mustache on myself.

  “Dinnertime came, and I was just about to call Room Service when the door opened and the police came in. They told me there had been a mysterious accident. Both my parents had disappeared.”

  “What happened?” asked Emma.

  “Well, there was a trick called the Vanishing Cabinet,” said Masterman. “My mother would step into it and close the door. Then my father would open the door and she’d be gone. But then he’d close the door, spin the cabinet around, and open the door again, and she’d step out smiling and waving at the audience.

  “But on that night she hadn’t come back, no matter how many times my father spun the cabinet, and the audience began to boo and stamp their feet. So my father climbed inside the cabinet too and closed the door. I guess he was going to look for her. The audience waited and waited, but nothing happened, and at last the theater manager came out and opened the cabinet. No one was inside.”

  “Didn’t anyone ever find them?” Emma asked.

  Masterman shook his head, pressing his lips tight together. He swallowed hard.

  “So then I had to live in an orphanage for a few days until this rotten little man came and told me he was the Wenlocke family lawyer. He said I was going to be his ward now. I was supposed to call him Uncle Roderick.”

  “Did you?”

  “No,” said Masterman. “I called him Rotten Stinky Little Baldy.”

  “No wonder he didn’t like you!”

  “Well, I found out he had the Vanishing Cabinet burned,” said Masterman. “Along with all my father’s other magic stuff, because he said magic was wicked and dangerous. Because of that, my parents could never come back through the cabinet, even if they were still alive.

  “And he thought I knew where the Wenlocke family treasure was. I told him there wasn’t a treasure anymore, because of Great-Grandfather Masterman losing it when this place sank under the sand. But Uncle Roderick wouldn’t believe me. He said he’d send me to Pavor Noctis Academy unless I told him the truth.

  “And when he did send me there, it was horrible. The other boys got birthday presents and holiday presents from their parents, but all I ever got were cards from Uncle Roderick, and they always said the same thing: ‘Dear Masterman, sorry I can’t afford to send you any presents, but if I knew where the Wenlocke treasure was, you’d have a pony and a puppy of your very own. Too bad! How do you like the hard beds and bread and water meals at Pavor Noctis? If you want to leave, all you have to do is tell me where the treasure is!’”

  “That’s awful,” said Emma. “That’s just as bad as what happened to me. What did you do, when you felt scared and all alone?”

  “I thought about my parents,” said Masterman. “I knew that they wouldn’t have let Uncle Roderick treat me the way he did. They would have wanted me to be all right. So I decided I would be all right, whatever Uncle Roderick tried to do. I would be brave and escape as soon as I could, and grow up somewhere, and then I’d become a magician.

  “So I flew away! And here I am now, right where every Wenlocke has longed to be for a hundred years. So awful things happen sometimes, but good things can happen too. The trick is to be as brave as you can through the terrible parts so you can get to the wonderful ones, because they will come along someday,” said Masterman.

  “That’s true,” said Emma, looking around at the Grand Wenlocke.

  “And when they come, you have to remember how to be happy again,” Masterman added. “That’s very important.”

  “But you can’t ever forget the people you lose, can you?” said Emma.

  “Of course not,” said Masterman. He picked up his water glass and held it up. “Here’s to making them proud of us!”

  Emma held up her water glass too and they clinked glasses and drank. She felt better. She decided that Masterman was wise as well as brave, even if he was a brat most of the time.

  20

  THE PLAN

  ONE DAY AS Emma and Masterman were bringing their seventeenth load of pillowcases down to the Electrical Laundry Room, they heard a lot of very bad language coming from behind a long row of drying top sheets.

  “Ahem,” said Emma.

  The bad language stopped. Captain Doubloon glared out with his one eye from between two bath towels. “Oh, not more bloody laundry,” he said.

  “I’m afraid so,” said Emma.

  “And we have the whole third floor to make up, so I hope you’ve finished ironing the bottom sheets,” said Masterman.

  “No, I ain’t, because I’ve had to wash all the tablecloths and napkins. Them blasted guests is got grape juice spilled all over em,” said Captain Doubloon.

  “Awk! Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!” said the parrot.

  “Shut up, you darned bird! Look here, kiddies, we needs more folk working here,” said Captain Doubloon. “Chambermaids and laundresses and whatnot. This ain’t no work for a sailor!”

  “But where could we find any help?” said Masterman. “We’re a long way from ordinary places. We can’t exactly put a want ad in the paper.”

  “Winston could telegraph again,” said Emma.

  “So he could, but then, you might find maids turning up what’s got fairy wings, or snakes for hair, or some such,” said Captain Doubloon. “And I don’t reckon magical folk make dependable housecleaners, somehow.”

  “You know, if you towed the hotel away to that tropical island you told us about, I’ll bet we could advertise for more help there,” said Emma.

  Captain Doubloon’s one eye shone like a lighthouse beam.

  “So we could,” he said. “And it might be a good idea to do it afore the next Storm of the Equinox too, so’s we don’t have the whole place going to Davy Jones’s Locker again. And then, once we was settled, I could ask Mrs. Beet for her hand in marriage!”

  “Marriage?” Masterman began to giggle. “You and Mrs. Beet?”

  “You can keep yer snickers to yerself, you little whey-faced whelp,” said Captain Doubloon. “Mrs. Beet’s a fine woman, and good cooking lasts a sight longer than good looks, let me tell you. Besides, she likes me as much as I likes her.”

  “Two eyes, one heart?” said Masterman, grinning.

  “Aye,” sighed Captain Doubloon. “It’s like we was made for each other. Neddy dear, she calls me.”

  Masterman would have started laughing again, but Emma stepped firmly on his foot and said, “That’s lovely, and I’m very happy for you. Will it take very long to get the hotel ready to travel?”

  “Not more’n a few days, I
reckon,” said Captain Doubloon.

  “We’d better go tell Winston, then,” said Masterman.

  But when they told Winston, he looked worried.

  “It’s certainly a good idea to move the Grand Wenlocke to a safer place,” he said. “We do need a bigger staff, and I’d love to hire a band so we could have dances in the ballroom. But how are we going to move the hotel when it’s got guests staying here? Some of them have paid for months and months ahead.”

  “I know what we’ll do,” said Emma. She told her plan to Winston and Masterman, who agreed that it was a good one. So Emma and Masterman went out to the verandah where Mr. Eleutherios and his lady friends liked to relax.

  “Excuse me,” said Emma.

  “Yiasou!” said Mr. Eleutherios cheerily.

  “Excuse me, everyone! The staff and management of the Grand Wenlocke would like to make an announcement. In just a few days, you will all receive a fabulous complimentary sea cruise to a beautiful tropical paradise. You won’t even have to leave your rooms!”

  Mr. Eleutherios and the ladies just stared at her. Masterman cleared his throat and began to translate what Emma had said into Greek. Emma could tell when he had finished, because Mr. Eleutherios shouted “Opa!” and began to play a dance tune on his guitar, and all his ladies smiled broadly and shouted “Opa!” too.

  “That went pretty well,” said Emma, picking grapes out of her hair as they left.

  “I hope the others take it as nicely,” said Masterman, untwining a twig of grapevine from his lapel.

  They went next to the Theater where the beautiful people were, but they had to turn off the projector and turn on the lights before the beautiful people would notice them. Emma repeated her announcement and Masterman translated for her once again. It sounded a lot like Greek too, except that every sentence seemed to begin and end with the word dahhhhhhlings. When he had finished, the beautiful people all looked blank and then began shouting questions. Emma could tell that Masterman was answering as best he could, but he looked flustered and angry by the time they were able to leave the theater.

  “What did they want to know?” asked Emma.

  “All sorts of things,” said Masterman. “Like would they still be able to use their hair dryers, and could we positively guarantee no newpaper photographers would bother them, and could we please hire more servants to come work at the hotel. Especially a plastic surgeon.”

  “Well, maybe we can find one on the tropical island,” said Emma.

  Next they went to the Natatorium, and Emma made her announcement to the People of the Sand. They all swam to the edges of the pool as she spoke, to give her their full attention. Even the camels seemed to be listening intently. When Masterman translated for her, in a language that sounded like the hissing of wind across the Dunes and gusts thundering up into the sky, they turned to one another and conferred among themselves. At last one of them asked a question. Masterman’s reply was short, and seemed to satisfy them, for they went back to swimming laps.

  “They wanted to know if there would be sandy beaches where we’re going,” Masterman explained to Emma as they left the Natatorium. “I told them of course there would be. All tropical islands have sandy beaches, don’t they?”

  “Some only have rocks,” said Emma. Masterman waved his hand dismissively.

  “We’ll just pick one with sand,” he said.

  The last place they went was the Conservatory, where the Freets were basking in the warmth. Emma didn’t bother to make the announcement this time, but let Masterman make it, in the strange twittering language spoken by the Freets. Mr. Freet responded with a question, and Masterman replied. The Freets nodded, and reclined once more on their lounge chairs.

  “They just wanted to know if there would be flowers there,” Masterman told Emma.

  “If there aren’t any, we’ll plant some,” said Emma.

  Captain Doubloon got very busy, bringing oil drums and steel cables from his boat. He spent the next few days going round and round the outside of the verandah, lashing the drums into place so that they would keep the hotel afloat at sea. Winston got all the spare clothesline from the Laundry, and carefully put a few safety loops about the bigger pieces of furniture, so that they wouldn’t fall over if the hotel encountered rough seas on its journey.

  But he wouldn’t go outside to help Captain Doubloon carry oil drums from the ship. “Why in blazes not?” demanded Captain Doubloon. “It ain’t like anything could hurt you, what with you being dead and all.”

  “I don’t know why,” said Winston, wringing his hands. “I just have this sort of feeling that I’m not supposed to leave the Grand Wenlocke. I’ve tried going out on the verandah, and I felt so insubstantial it gave me quite a nasty turn. I’ll work extra hard looking after the guests, if someone else can go out for me. Out there—” He shuddered. “That’s just sand and dreams, shadows and fog. I might blow away like mist, out there.”

  “That’s all right,” said Masterman. “I’ll go out and help you, Captain.”

  Emma looked at him in astonishment. Masterman had certainly improved from the haughty little creature he had been when he first came to the Grand Wenlocke.

  “Well, thank ‘ee, lad, but a shrimp like you ain’t going to be much use,” grumbled Captain Doubloon.

  “I’ll go too,” said Emma. “If we both try, we can lift a barrel between us.”

  “We’ll see,” said Captain Doubloon, but he didn’t sound as though he believed they could do any good.

  All the same, when Emma and Masterman walked out through the Dunes to the beach, they found it easy work. The oil drums, being empty, weren’t very heavy—they were just awkward. Emma found an old fishing net that had been lost from some trawler. She and Masterman worked out a way to fill it with several barrels at a time and drag it behind them, with Shorty gripping a piece of the net in his jaws too and running beside them. They dragged the barrels all the way to where the captain was digging under the hotel. He took the barrels and chained them in place.

  The children made a lot of trips back and forth, managing to get the rest of the oil drums up from the beach in a few days. Though they were very, very tired when night came, Mrs. Beet always fixed a nice hot supper for them. And Winston, true to his word, worked twice as hard and saw to all the laundry and the cleaning for the guests.

  At last everything was ready. Just after sunrise, on a morning when the wind was blowing hard from inshore, Captain Doubloon went out to his boat with Emma while Masterman and Mrs. Beet went once around the outside of the Grand Wenlocke to make certain that everything was fastened tight. Winston shepherded the hotel guests into the Bar, where they eagerly awaited the sea voyage. Then Masterman went up to Emma’s turret room with a pistol that Captain Doubloon had given him, and waited.

  Emma climbed out of the rowboat and up the rusty ladder to the deck of Captain Doubloon’s ship. There was certainly a lot of rust, but she knew it wouldn’t be polite to say so. “What’s the name of this ship?” she asked instead.

  “She’s the By-the-Wind-Sailor,” said Captain Doubloon, puffing and panting as he came aboard. “Don’t look like much, do she? But she’s got a powerful strong engine. She used to work as a tugboat, hauling them big cruise liners in and out of harbors. When one of ‘em would get stuck on a sandbar, why, they’d radio for the By-the-Wind-Sailor, and she’d pull ‘em free in less time than it takes to sing ‘Fifteen Men on a Dead Man’s Chest’! That’s why I, er, saved up and bought her. If any boat could pull a hotel across the sea, By-the-Wind-Sailor’s the one to do it, by thunder!”

  He handed Emma a spyglass. “You watch that little lubber up in the turret, now, and tell me when he’s ready to give the signal. I’ll get the engines warmed up.”

  Emma opened the spyglass and looked back across the Dunes to the Grand Wenlocke. There was her turret room, with the seaward window wide open, and Masterman leaned out of it with the pistol cocked and held up in the air for safety, as though he were a miniature
spy. He was watching the horizon keenly.

  “He’s ready, Captain,” Emma shouted, over the roar of the By-the-Wind-Sailor’s engines.

  “Right then!” Captain Doubloon shouted back. “See that there gun on the port bow? You get ready to fire it off when I gives the word!”

  Fortunately Emma knew that the port side was the left side of the ship, because port and left both have four letters. She ran to the little signal cannon there and took hold of its firing cord. The engines roared louder and louder, and water foamed like white lace all around the ship’s hull. A moment or two they rose and fell on the surge, and then Captain Doubloon shouted, “FIRE!”

  Emma pulled sharply on the cord, and the cannon fired a shot that echoed across the rolling water. She grabbed up the telescope and peered through it just in time to see the puff of white smoke rising as Masterman fired his pistol, letting everyone in the hotel know it was time to brace themselves.

  Captain Doubloon took the wheel of the By-the-Wind-Sailor and let her out, and she headed out to sea. Emma, watching over her stern, saw the cable chain rise dripping from the water as it pulled taut. It jerked, and jumped tight as a guitar-string, sending drops of water flying everywhere.

  “The hotel is beginning to move!” cried Emma, watching through the spyglass as the Grand Wenlocke jolted forward a foot or so. Only a little further, and it began to slide across the sand. It moved so easily that Emma wondered if it hadn’t been designed to travel all along. She could see a little of the foundation under the Difference Engine now, and it seemed to be smooth and curved, like the hull of a ship. Perhaps that had been why it had sunk under the sand in the first place.