“Yes,” she says. “Of course I remember him. I met him after he was in the cannibal islands, where he got a powerful object.” She eyes me sideways. “The one I think you got. Do you got what I think you got?” Her voice is very low and serious. “I can hear it, I think.”
Should I tell her? I worry that maybe she’s saying nice things about my father so that she can get the Medicine Head. Maybe she wants it for herself. Maybe she’ll take it from me. I look away from her.
“Girl?” she says. “What’s the matter?” She takes my chin in her palm and turns my face back toward hers. Her rich eyes pull me in.
“I do have it,” I say.
She nods at me. “Your father came to me with it. He wanted to understand its powers.” She shakes her head back and forth as though she is remembering something sad. “I told him I could help him take care of it. But he said he could take care of it.” She sighs and slaps her hands on her thighs. “We mustn’t let Captain Greeney get it,” she says. “He would use it in bad ways. Be greedy. Hurt people.”
Father came to Nova? Why would he do that? Why would she be able to answer questions about the Medicine Head? “I know,” I say.
She shifts her feet on the floor. “But,” she says, “it’s not a plaything for children, either.” She pinches her lips together. “Do you want me to keep it safe for you? I wouldn’t ever open it or hold it again. Nova, you can trust.”
Again? What does she mean by that? I think about her offer. She has saved me from Captain Greeney and somehow has gotten me onto this ship. She is here, watching over me while I sleep, comforting me, feeding me. Father came to her. He trusted her enough to confide in her about the Medicine Head. Maybe I should, too. But, I remember, he didn’t give it to her.
“No,” I decide. “I’ve got to put it somewhere no one will get it.”
She drums her fingers on her lap and shakes her head again. “Just like your father,” she says. “But you might be making the same mistake, too. Did you ever think of that?”
I turn my face away from her and stare out a small porthole. All I see is blue sky. It’s quiet for a moment between Nova and me. I don’t want to answer her, but I don’t want to insult her, either. I don’t want to think about Father’s mistakes.
“That’s fine,” she says finally. “I don’t want it, anyway. It’s full of black magic.”
“I don’t believe in magic,” I whisper. “There’s a scientific explanation for everything.” That’s what I say, but I’m not sure I believe it anymore. And I want to know what she knows about the Medicine Head’s power. I’ve known all this time that I’ve had to keep it away from Captain Greeney. What I want to know is what he’d do with it. “What does Captain Greeney want to do with it?” I look back at Nova’s face and study her intently.
She raises one eyebrow at me, as if she’s surprised I don’t already know. “He wants to destroy it,” she says.
I gasp. “Destroy it? Why? Why would he kill my father and chase me across the country only to destroy it?”
She rubs something off my forehead, ash or soot, probably. Then she stands, goes to the porthole, and looks out at the ocean and the sky. She runs a small cloth on the window until it squeaks, cleaning it like Priss cleans our Kansas windows. Then she turns to me and locks my gaze with her own.
“Because,” she says, “whoever destroys the Medicine Head gains everlasting life.”
Time seems to stop. The natural noises of the creaking ship and splashing waves go away. The sky through the porthole seems to open up to the outer edges of the universe. I see black beyond the white. I see comets, stars, and celestial rings. I blink. And then everything is the same again. The world returns to its ordinary noises and sights.
“Everlasting life?” I say. My ears are ringing, and my stomach goes topsy-turvy again. “That’s impossible. There’s no such thing.” I scan the sky again, looking for what I saw an instant ago. But there’s nothing.
Nova looks out the porthole, too, as though she knows what I saw and what I’m looking for. Then she slowly turns toward me and smiles gently. “That’s what I thought, too.” She leans back now and pulls a pipe from a wooden box next to the hammock. She lights it and puffs on the end. I have never seen a woman smoke a pipe before. A sickly-sweet scent fills the hold, and my stomach feels worse than ever. I curl over it.
“Your stomach flopping?” she asks.
“A little,” I say.
She pushes the pipe toward me. “Here,” she says. “Take a puff. It will help.”
“No,” I say. “I mean, thank you, but no, thanks.”
“It’s the rocking of the ship,” she says. “It makes people sick until they get used to it. It took me decades.”
Decades? I think. Nova doesn’t look more than thirty years old. How could she have already spent decades on ships? My stomach lurches again. I think I’ll never get used to it. I remember good old Kansas, where everywhere was flat and steady. Where the only thing I ever had to worry about was a jackrabbit hole.
“How do you know?” I ask. “About everlasting life.”
She shakes her head. “That’s the longest story.” Then she stands up. “I have to get back to work.”
“Wait,” I say. “I want to know. I lost my father for the Medicine Head. I left my sister and mother and my home. I want to know why I’m taking it so far away. I want to know if I’m doing the right thing. I want to know if I should keep going on this crazy journey to the ends of the earth, where no one can ever touch it again!” I’m practically shouting, but Nova doesn’t seem fazed by it.
“Where?” she asks. She blows whitish-blue smoke from her nose and stares wistfully up at the coils. “People are spread all over the world. Where can you put it where no people get it? It is a big problem for a little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl,” I say. I sigh. I’m afraid that what I’m about to say will sound ridiculous. I’m afraid it will make her think I am a little girl with a wild imagination. But I tell her anyway. “Antarctica,” I whisper, but so softly that Nova doesn’t hear me.
She tilts her ear toward me. “Speak louder, girl,” she says. “What did you say?”
“Antarctica,” I say more loudly.
She leans back and taps ashes onto the floor. Then she smiles. “Antarctica!” she shouts. She shakes her head and starts to laugh a laugh that comes from deep within her belly and shakes her chest. It grows and grows, fuller and louder. She laughs so hard she gets teary and begins coughing. Remnant smoke escapes her lungs.
I don’t know what to think. Is she laughing at me? Does she think I’m a silly child? I put my head down and feel my cheeks burn red with embarrassment. Maybe she’s right. Maybe this is all foolish. I’m too young. I’m not smart enough for this responsibility. I should never have come to New Bedford. I should have stayed in Tolerone and let whatever would have happened, happen. I’m just a kid. What do I know?
Then Nova’s laugh calms into a series of lighter chuckles and coughs. She breathes a few full breaths. Finally she speaks. “Why didn’t I think of that?” she whispers.
I wait. I wonder if I heard her right and hold my breath.
“All these years,” Nova says, “and I never thought of that.” I look up at her. She nods and nods. “You are a very bright girl.”
She’s not laughing at me. She’s laughing at herself. She thinks I have a good idea.
“Yes,” I say. “Antarctica.” I clear my throat. My neck muscles have relaxed and my tongue moves easier now, so my words come out clear and strong. “My father discovered it for America. I want to see it the way he did. I want to leave the head there. It was given to him, and it should be in a place that belongs to him.”
“Stubborn,” she says. She points at me. “Like I remember your father. He was persistent. You like that, too, yes?”
“Yes,” I say. “I am.” I smile. I can’t help it. I am like my father. Even though he’s as far away from me as one human can be from another, I feel
him near me now. I feel like he’d be proud of me, like he’d know that the Medicine Head is safe with me.
The Medicine Head. Where is it?
“Don’t worry,” Nova says, as if she’s reading my mind. “It’s safe beneath your hammock.” She puts her hand on my arm and helps me out of the hammock and onto the slippery floor. “Careful. You got no sea legs yet.”
I kneel down on the slimy floor and look beneath the hammock. There it is, safe and silent.
“You leave it in there,” she says.
I don’t respond, but I do stand up and go to her.
Nova helps me up the ladder, which is tricky because it’s slippery, like everything else. A glossy layer of fat sits on the rungs. I lift my hand, and it glistens.
“Whale oil,” Nova says. “Everywhere. Get used to it. You’ll be sweating and spitting it before the voyage is through, just like the rest of us. The oil means money for the captain, the crew, for all of us.”
I keep climbing.
When my head emerges, I see dozens and dozens of pairs of feet, some with boots and some not. I see many of the same men here who surrounded us on the dock. They don’t pay any mind to me. I also see hooves of goats and pigs and pads of dogs and cats. Mostly, I see ropes, wood, coal, buckets, barrels, and all the other things you can think of to make life work. It’s like the ship is a city unto itself.
Nova pushes on my bottom. “Up!” she says.
I go up.
CHAPTER 25
When I stand, I have to adjust my eyes to the sunlight and the bright sky and the flapping white sails. I’m surprised to see we’re not very far from the shore. I can still see New Bedford. I look around and spy Eustace and Fob mid-ship. Eustace has part of a huge rope slung over his shoulder and the rest of it coiling in neat circles on the deck. And he seems to be grinning. I turn as though I will go and talk to him, but before I can, Nova spins me in another direction.
“No,” she says. “Him later. Captain now.” She pushes my shoulder toward the bow of the ship, but my knees don’t work correctly. They keep wanting to bend too deeply, and I have trouble walking in a straight line. I look for something to hold on to, a railing or rope, but Nova says, “No. You must learn to walk on the deck.”
Not only is the deck unsteady because it rocks back and forth and up and down on the ocean, but it is slick with water and fat. Up and down, side to side go my legs. I raise my arms to balance, which doesn’t help much.
All the parts of my body move in separate directions, like my hands aren’t attached to my arms, my arms aren’t attached to my shoulders, or my head to my neck. I try to walk; my feet seem briefly suspended in air when the ship dips. I straighten my knees to keep my feet attached to the deck. But as soon as I do that, the ship pops up again.
“Whoa!” My knees buckle.
Nova grabs me and holds on. “You will learn,” she says. I wonder if I will.
She clutches my arm tightly, but her firm grip doesn’t hurt. I feel secure.
Nova points toward the opposite end of the deck. Sailors there roll sails and coil ropes. Some of them are gathered around another man, much older than the rest of them. “There he is,” she says.
I cock my head and gawp at a man not more than five feet tall, although he probably used to be taller, since he’s now hunched over something terrible. His white beard dangles nearly to the deck, and he holds a wad of leaves to his cheek, which is swollen so much that his eye is nearly closed. He peers at me with his good eye.
“Who’s that?” he yells, loud and raspy. I startle and jump back. He points at me. “I didn’t hire him!”
That reminds me that I’m supposed to be a boy. I clear my throat and slouch my shoulders like boys do. I try to creep behind Nova.
She pushes me forward, in front of her. “Do not be afraid,” she says.
“I don’t need any more of them wet-behind-the-ears ones in my crew,” he growls. “They cry for their mamas too much.” He points at one of the whaleboats tethered to the ship. “Nova, prepare a whaleboat and take him back.”
Take me back? No! I think. I can’t go back. I have to stay on this stinky, rocking ship. I have to get to Antarctica. I can’t have left my family, escaped the fires of Tolerone, hidden in a smelly train, fooled Captain Greeney, and landed in New Bedford only to be turned around and sent home before I get the Medicine Head where it needs to go.
“No!” I say. I lower my voice. “No, please. I’m smart. And I’m a good worker, too.”
“Get off my ship!” the captain shouts. “No babies on my ship.” He cups his cheek and groans, “Ow, ow, ow.”
Does a baby get herself from Kansas to Massachusetts? Does a baby out-think a murdering madman? Does a baby have the enormous responsibility that I do?
“Nova!” the captain roars. Then he leans forward and grimaces. He holds both his hands around his face. “Oh, this abominable tooth!” He looks at me and he looks at Nova. “You’re making my tooth hurt worse. Get him off here.”
“No, no,” I say. “Wait. I can do things.” I search my mind for things I can do. “I can identify birds. And fish. And I can identify edible plants.”
The captain’s one good eye rolls around as though he’s not impressed. “Oh, blimey!” he yells at me. “I know every plant, bird, and fish on the earth, you dummy! Everything! Nothing is new to me!” He groans and holds his face. “Get off my ship!” he screams, so loud that everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at me.
“I can make knots!” I say. “I can make all kinds of knots. Stopper knots and bends and hitches and loops, too.” I look him in his good eye. Then I look at his swollen cheek, puffed up to nearly cover his eye.
His tooth. His tooth! Like the rotten pig’s tooth back home. “I can help your tooth,” I say. “I know what to do. But you have to let me stay on.”
The captain comes in close to my face. He’s very short, so he doesn’t have to lean far. Some of his stray whiskers tickle my cheek, but I don’t dare move.
“Is that so?” he says. “And how did you come to know knots and teeth, you barnacle?” He tosses the wad of tobacco he’s been holding against his cheek into the ocean. “Cabin boy!” he yells. “I need a fresh wad of them leaves or the pain’s like to kill me.” Then he laughs a grotesque laugh. “Kill me!” he repeats, as though it’s the funniest thing in the world.
“My father taught me, sir,” I say. “He taught me lots of things. And my friend Eustace taught me lots of things, too.”
“Hmm.” The captain’s cheek seems blown up like a puffer fish.
“Yes, sir,” I say. “For instance, those tobacco leaves aren’t going to help your tooth, sir. That tooth is simply going to have to come out if you want the pain to stop.”
He lowers his eyebrow at me. It’s gray and scraggly and some of the hairs in it reach below his eye.
“Ah-hem. Also, sir,” I go on, “some say that an infected tooth is what killed Queen Elizabeth.” I wait a second or two. “You’d better have that thing removed as quickly as possible.” I feel Nova’s hand rest on my shoulder, and she gives me an encouraging squeeze. “I know how. I’ve done it before.”
“So,” says the captain. “You can twist knots, can you? And you’ve got some wise ideas about teeth, do you?” He nods, then reaches inside his shirt and scratches his belly. “Well, tell me one thing, and then I’ll let you stay on my ship. Is that a deal?”
“Yes, sir,” I say.
“One,” he says as he rubs his beard, “what’ve you got in mind to do on this ship? And two, why are you dressed like a boy?”
I reach for where my bun used to be and touch nothing but shorn stubs. I clear my throat again. “Uh,” I say. “That’s two questions, sir. Not one.”
From behind me, Nova speaks. “Captain, this is the daughter of Captain Wonder.” She pushes me forward.
Captain Abbot steps back. He squints his one good eye at me, looks me all the way up and down. “The seaweed you say!” he says. He lurches forward
, howling like an animal in a trap, and then he’s on his knees, holding his head in his hands.
I decide this is my moment to prove myself. “Get a pliers,” I yell. “Someone get a pliers. And get Eustace, too.”
Nova seems surprised to hear me boss a bunch of people I’ve never even met. But she reiterates my requests. “Go!” she shouts at the cabin boy. “And bring the rum, too.” She looks at me then to see if that’s all right, and I nod to say that it is.
I kneel down and put my hand on the captain’s back. “We’ll get the tooth out. You’ll feel better.” His back is knotted with lumps, like the surface of a turtle shell.
Eustace comes running with Fob at his heels. Fob sits down beside me. He’s got a squirming mouse hanging out one side of his jaw, so I guess he may have already earned his right to be on this ship.
The cabin boy brings the pliers to me. Then he pulls the bottle of rum from the inside of his shirt and gives it to the captain, who pulls the cork and takes a long drink.
Nova asks, “Have you two done this before?”
Without looking at Eustace, I say, “Sure we have. We know what to do.” I pat the captain on the back again. “You ought to take another big drink or two,” I tell him.
Then I stand up, and I pull Eustace and Nova in close to me.
“Now,” I say, “this is going to hurt quite a bit, so I need both of you to hold him down hard. Legs, arms, all that. Hold him while I pull the tooth out. Once I get the pliers on it, I’m not going to stop pulling until it pops out like that rum cork.”
Eustace sits on the deck. I tell the captain to sit and lean back into Eustace. To my surprise, he does what I say. He moans the whole time, as if every small movement hurts.
“Just relax, sir,” I say. “Look up at the sky and the sails.”
I guess maybe people in pain will do just about anything you tell them to if they believe it’ll relieve them.
Wonder at the Edge of the World Page 16
