“Coffin?” said the king, looking bewildered again.
“I told you about him, Papa. Remember? The pockets? The mast and shroud? The tiny inflatable billiard table?”
“Oh, that coffin! My word. How long were you at sea, Mr. Cookie?”
“Two weeks, sir. My little stove ran out after the first week, so I made do with biscuits, mint cake, and plankton until I fetched up on an island,” said the cook.
“Plankton?” said Daphne.
“Strained it through my beard, miss. I thought, well, whales live on it, so why not me?” He reached into his pocket and produced a grubby piece of paper. “Funny little island I landed on, too. Had the name on a brass plate nailed to a tree. I writ it down—look.”
The king and his daughter read, in smudged pencil, Mrs. Ethel J. Bundy’s Birthday Island.
“It really exists!” Daphne yelled.
“Jolly well done,” said the king. “Do tell us all about it over dinner. Now, if you will excuse for me a moment, I have to reign.” King Henry the Ninth rubbed his hands together. “Now, what else…ah, yes. Charlie, do you want to be an archbishop?”
The Rt. Rev. Topleigh, who was packing his bag again, waved his hands wildly, a look of sudden dread on his face. “No, thank you, Henry!”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Yes, thank you. They’d make me wear shoes. Love it down here among the islands!”
“Ah, then you choose the big sea to a big see,” said the king, in that slow, plummy voice people use when they are committing a really bad pun.
Nobody laughed. Even Daphne, who loved her father very much, could do no better than a sickly grin. Then her father did something that no one, not even a king, should do. He tried to explain. “Perhaps you all didn’t notice the pun or play on words?” he said, sounding a little hurt. “I deliberately confused ‘a big sea,’ that’s with an a, with ‘a big see,’ with two es, meaning the area that comes under the jurisdiction of an archbishop.”
“Technically that would be a province, sir,” said Mr. Black gravely. “Bishops have sees.”
“Although an archbishop is, strictly speaking, bishop of his home see,” said Mr. Red thoughtfully. “That’s why the archbishop of Canterbury is also the bishop of Canterbury. But that would be a small see, and therefore would not work for the purposes of humor.”
“There you have it, Your Majesty,” said Mr. Black, giving the king a happy little smile. “With that small amendment your wonderful pun will be an absolute hoot in ecclesiastical circles.”
“I notice you didn’t laugh, Mr. Black!”
“No, Your Majesty. We are forbidden to laugh at the things kings say, sire, because otherwise we would be at it all day.”
“Well, at least there is one thing I can do,” said the king, walking over to Mau. “Sir, I would be honored if you will join my Empire. Not many people get a choice, I might add.”
“Thank you, King,” said Mau, “but we—” He stopped, and turned to Pilu for assistance.
“We don’t want to join, Your Sire. It’s too big and we will be swallowed up.”
“Then you will be prey to the first man who arrives with a boat and half a dozen armed men,” said the king. “Apart from me, I mean,” he added quickly.
“Yes, Your King,” said Mau. He saw the ghost girl watching him and thought, well, this is the moment. “That is why we want to join the Royal Society.”
“What?” The king turned to his daughter, who was grinning. “Did you put them up to this, my girl?”
“Papa, this is where science began,” Daphne said quickly, “and I just gave them the words. They did the thinking for themselves. Their ancestors were scientists. You’ve seen the cave! This will work!”
Pilu looked nervously from the king to his daughter and went on: “When the Royal Society was formed, the king gave them a club as full of bigness as his was—”
“Bigness?” said the king.
“That was Charles the Second, sire,” Mr. Black whispered. “In fact he did indeed say that the society deserved a mace ‘alike in bigness to our own,’ and I suppose we can only be grateful that he didn’t say biggittity.”
“—which means he thought they were as powerful as kings, and so we humbly, no, proudly ask that we be admitted,” said Pilu, glancing at the ghost girl. “We will welcome all men of science as, er, brothers.”
“Say yes, Papa, say yes!” said Daphne. “Science is international!”
“I can’t speak for the society—” the king began, but Daphne was ready for this. There was no point in being a princess if you couldn’t interrupt a king.
“Of course you can, Papa. It says Royal Society outside their building, doesn’t it?”
“Your society, Your Majesty,” Mr. Black purred. “And based, of course, in London.”
“And we will give them the golden door,” said Mau.
“What?” said Daphne. She hadn’t expected this bit.
“It’s not going to be shut again,” said Mau emphatically. “It will be a gift to our brothers who sailed so far that they came back.”
“That’s tons of gold!” said the king. “About eight tons at least, I’d say.”
“Very well done, sire,” said Mr. Black. “To the victor the spoils.”
“Except there hasn’t been a war,” said the king. “It’s too much. We can’t take it! They have been kind.”
“I was merely suggesting that the people like it when kings bring valuable things home, sire,” said the Gentleman of Last Resort.
“Like whole countries,” said Daphne, giving him a sharp look.
“But this is meant as a gift, Mr. Black. It is not the spoils of conquest,” said the king.
“Well, that is indeed a happy, if unusual, outcome,” said Mr. Black smoothly.
“And you will give a gift to us, too,” said Mau. “When much is taken, something is returned. Pilu?”
“A big telescope,” said Pilu, “and a boat in sizeness to the Sweet Judy, and ten barrels of salt-pickled beef, and tools of every sizeness. Timber, metals of all kindness, books with pictures and writing inside that is about the pictures….”
It went on for quite some time, and when he had finished, Daphne said, “That’s still pretty cheap, Papa, even with the boat. And remember, the first thing they asked for was a telescope. How can you argue with that?”
The king smiled. “I won’t. Nor will I wonder out loud if anyone helped them with the list. Anyway I rather like ‘metals of all kindness.’ And you are right, of course. Scientists will flock here. And you can keep your door, Mau.”
“No,” said Mau firmly. “It was closed for too long, Your King. I will not let it be shut again. But there is one more request, which is very simple. Every man of science who comes here to see what we once knew must tell us all he knows.”
“Lectures!” Daphne burst out. “Oh, yes!”
“And someone, please, to teach us doctrine,” Mau added.
The bishop, who had been feeling a bit left out by now, brightened up at this point and stepped forward smartly. “If I can help in any way—” he began, his voice full of hope.
“Doctrine to make us better,” said Mau, giving Daphne an imploring look.
“Yes indeed,” said the bishop. “I feel that—”
Daphne sighed. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but he means doctoring,” she said.
“Ah, yes,” said the bishop sadly. “Silly me.”
“Mind you, if you’re good at debating, Mau might be interested.” She looked at Mau, who looked at her, and then at the Gentlemen of Last Resort, and then at the king, and then at the Cutty Wren, and then back at her.
And he knows I’m going, she thought. And very soon. I’ll have to. A king’s only child can’t live on an island that’s lost at sea. He could read me like a book, if he read books. He knows. I can see it in his face.
At dawn on the seventh day after the arrival of the Cutty Wren, Captain Samson was ready to set sail again. The ship
had already picked up most of the provisions for the return leg in Port Mercia, but eight tons of gold takes a lot of sawing up when you’re determined not to leave behind a single bit of gold dust.
Now the ship waited outside the reef, just visible behind the mists. It looked like a toy, but from the Women’s Place, everything was a matter of perspective.
His Majesty’s schooner had left yesterday, with cheering and waving and a lot less gear, lamp oil, sailcloth, and cutlery than it had when it arrived. The fastest sailing ship in the world was waiting, impatient to fly.
The clearing was more or less deserted at this time of day, but there were a few snores coming from the huts and the occasional gurgle coming from the hut of the lady of the same name. The gardens were silent, listening. And the Place did listen, Daphne was sure of that. It made you listen, because she did, too. It must have even made her grandmother listen: Yesterday Daphne had seen her sitting next to Mrs. Gurgle, who very clearly was a woman of great power, because it looked very much as though her new companion was chewing a lump of salt-pickled beef. Her ladyship hadn’t seen her granddaughter watching, which was probably a good thing for both of them.
Now Daphne looked around at the gardens. “I’ve come to say good-bye,” she said. “And thank you.” She didn’t shout it out. Either the Grandmothers were listening or they weren’t.
She stood and waited. There was no reply but the vegetables’ silence and, in the distance, a pantaloon bird losing the remains of last night’s dinner.
“Well, thank you anyway,” she said, and turned away.
Were they real? she thought. Memory slips away so quickly here. I think it blows out to sea. But I shall remember. And in her head a fading voice said, “Good!” or perhaps she imagined it. Life gets really complicated if you think too much.
The king had invited the carpenter of the Cutty Wren—in the few days he had been there—to help with the new building already begun by the carpenter from his schooner; and soon, because people feel uneasy watching a king work with his sleeves rolled up, both crews had rolled up theirs, too. The rest of the Judy had become another long hut and a big heap of useful things. And, of course, there was the Sweet Judy herself. She had been an unexpected find.
The prow of the ship had hit squarely between two of the giant fig trees and its figurehead had been wedged, unseen and unscathed, while the ship collapsed behind her.
A couple of the sailors had nailed the figurehead over the door, to the approval of all except the king, who wondered aloud if her undressed bosom might be considered unseemly. He hadn’t understood why everyone had laughed, but he had been pleased that they had. It had made up for the Big See.
Now Daphne looked up at her for the last time. There was a faint smile on the wooden lips, and someone had put a garland of flowers around her neck.
Daphne curtsied to her, because if any nonliving thing had earned respect, it had been the Judy. Daphne had been taught to curtsy years ago, and on the island it had been a skill less useful than ice skating, but just this once it was exactly the right thing to do.
A boat waited on the edge of the lagoon. It had been waiting for some time. The crowd had wandered off, because there is only so long you can wave and shout at something that isn’t in any hurry to move, and a certain boredom sets in. In any case, Cahle had tactfully and not so tactfully got the islanders to wander back up to the fields. She knew when people, come to think of it, needed space. Besides, Daphne had said all her good-byes last night, at the big feast, and the king had been the only trouserman there to be given the sunset wave tattoo, and everyone had laughed and cried. The Gentlemen of Last Resort had carried the king back to their ship only a few hours ago, because he was, they said, “a little under the weather,” which is a code meaning “too much beer.”
Now, apart from a dog warming up in the sun, it was as though she had the place to herself, but she would have bet anything that hundreds of eyes were watching her from the fields.
She looked at the beach. There was the waiting boat, and there was Mau, standing where he always did, with his spear. He glanced up as she approached, with the faint half smile he wore when he was uncertain of things.
“Everyone else is on board,” he said.
“I will be back,” Daphne said.
Mau drew squiggles on the sand with the end of his spear. “Yes, I know,” he said.
“No, I really mean it.”
“Yes. I know.”
“You sound as if you don’t believe me.”
“I believe you. But you sound as if you don’t.”
Daphne looked down at the sand. “Yes, I know,” she said meekly. “Father’s going to send Grandmother to be our ambassador to the ReUnited States, now that she’s feeling better. She’s worked out that she’ll be able to lord it over all the snooty Bostonians, so she’s trying not to seem pleased. I suppose really she will be ladying it, which is probably worse. And, well, he hasn’t got anyone else…oh, except for lots of courtiers and the government and the people of the Empire, of course, but they won’t know him as himself, d’you see, but just as a face under a crown. Oh, it’s all so wretched. But Father needs me.”
“Yes, he does,” said Mau.
Daphne glared at him. It was stupid to think like this, but she’d wanted him to argue…well, not argue, more like protest…well…not protest, exactly, more like…be disappointed. It’s hard to talk to someone who understands. She gave up and, only then, noticed his arm.
“What happened to you?” she said. “That looks horrible!”
“It’s just bruising. I got tattooed too after the feast last night. Look.”
She looked. On Mau’s left wrist was a little blue hermit crab.
“That’s very good!”
“Milo did it. And on this arm…” He turned to show her.
“The sunset wave,” said Daphne. “Oh, I’m so glad you decided to have it done at—”
“Look again, ghost girl,” said Mau, smiling.
“What? Er…oh, the wave is going the wrong way.”
“The right way. It’s the sunrise wave, and we are its children, and we will not go into the dark again. I vow it. It’s a new world. It needs new people. And you are right. Your father is a good man, but he needs you more than…this island does.”
“Well, I think—”
“He needs your strength,” Mau went on. “I’ve watched you together. You give his world a shape. He will give your poor nation a shape. You must be with him on that ship. You must be by his side. In your heart you know this. You will have a purpose. People will listen.” He took her hand. “I told you Imo made many worlds. I told you that sometimes I think I can see a little way into the world where the wave did not happen. Well, now you will get onto that ship, or…you won’t. Whatever you choose, your choice will mean there are two new worlds. And perhaps sometimes, on the edge of sleep, we will see the shadow of the other world. There will be no unhappy memories.”
“Yes, but—”
“No more words. We know them all, all the words that should not be said. But you have made my world more perfect.”
Frantically, Daphne sought for something to reply, and came up with: “The bandage on Mrs. Whi-ara’s leg should come off tomorrow. Er, I still don’t like the look of Caah-a’s hand; the Wren’s surgeon said he thought it was getting better, but it’s worth waking up Mrs. Gurgle to have a look at it. Oh, and don’t let her fool you—she can’t chew meat with those gold teeth, so someone else needs to do it, and…I’m getting this wrong, aren’t I…?”
Mau laughed. “How can that be wrong?” He kissed her on the cheek, a little clumsily, and went on: “And now we both walk away, without regrets, and when we meet again, it will be as old friends.”
Daphne nodded and blew her nose on her last good handkerchief.
And the ship sailed away.
And Mau went fishing. He owed a fish to Nawi.
Today
IN A CORNER OF the office, a seismograph t
icked away quietly to itself.
The old man stopped talking to watch a flying boat land on the lagoon. “Ah, that will be young Jason, who’s come to work on the Submillimeter Array.” He sighed. “I’m sure they’re doing wonderful things over there, but between ourselves I’ve never been happy with a telescope you can’t look into. Sorry, where was I?” he said.
The boy and the girl stared at him. “You said the ship sailed away?” said the boy.
“Oh, yes,” said the old man. “That was it. The ship sailed away. It’s what they do.”
“And?” said the boy.
“That was all of it. The ship sailed away.”
“And they didn’t get married or anything?” said the girl, looking truly shocked.
“Oh no,” said the old man. “Well, they didn’t get married. I’m not so sure about ‘anything.’ A kiss or two, maybe?”
“But that’s just no way to end a story,” said the boy. “He went fishing!”
“But it’s the kind of ending you get in real life,” said the old man, “and isn’t the story about being real? Though I’ve always thought he went fishing so that people wouldn’t see him cry. He must have felt very lonely. ‘If you will sacrifice,’ Mau said later, ‘then sacrifice your time on the altar of the common good. Eat the fish, or give it to someone who is hungry.’”
He looked at their downcast expressions, coughed gently, and said, “A ship did come back.”
“And the ghost girl was on it, wasn’t she?” said the girl.
“Oh yes,” said the old man. “About a year later.”
“Ah, I knew it!” said the girl triumphantly.
“And the telescope?” asked the boy.
“Certainly! A sixteen-inch Newtonian telescope was one of the first things they unloaded! That night everyone looked through it!” said the old man. “And there were all the things that had been on the list and six gentlemen from the Royal Society, just as promised.” The old man smiled broadly as he recalled. “Of course, we’ve had quite a few scientists since then. My father told me that Mr. Einstein sat in this very chair and played the violin. An interesting little fact is that my father accompanied him on the drum, and the effect was considered…unusual. I myself was privileged to accompany Sir Patrick Moore and Professor Richard Feynman when they were up here together. Xylophone, bongos, and war drum. Wonderful! Very musical people, scientists. And I was very proud to shake the hand of Professor Carl Sagan when he came here with people from the electric television. Do you remember that the ghost girl thought the glass beads on the ceiling of the cave were a star map, but she couldn’t work it out? The professor showed the world that it did indeed map the stars, but the stars as they were thirty-one thousand years ago, and that was confirmed by something called Fission Track Dating of the glass our little toy stars were made of. We’re learning new things all the time. I can’t recall how many astronauts came here. Interestingly, although several of them went to the moon, none of them met the lady who lives there.”
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