The Princess and the Captain

by Anne-Laure Bondoux

  Hearing him speak, Orpheus realised that to Finopico the fish was much more than a simple biological curiosity.

  ‘I’d like to see their faces!’ exclaimed the cook, with his own turned up to the stars. ‘Oho – they’d bow to my discovery! They’d envy me! They’d prostrate themselves at my feet like so many hearthrugs! I, the little cook without any money or any diploma, would make all those idiots eat their scornful words!’

  He suddenly let go of the tiller and knelt down in front of the chest, next to Orpheus. A spark of madness lit up his eyes like St Elmo’s fire in a storm.

  ‘I hate those scientists, Captain! There they sit comfortably installed in the Institute armchairs down the generations, from father to son. They despise us, they judge us and mock our ambitions, but one of these days I’ll have my revenge – thanks to the Ghoom!’

  He abruptly calmed down, and stroked page 243 with a trembling hand.

  ‘Take it easy, my pretty one,’ he told the engraving. ‘I know you don’t want to end up in a museum, I know you’d rather enjoy swimming in the black waters of the ocean, but have patience … I’ve been after you for so many years. I’m sure the Divinities will hear my voice at long last and you and I will meet, like old enemies. When that moment comes I’ll catch you. And you will go into the official reference books under the magnificent name of Finopicuum de profondis!’

  He took a deep breath, reluctantly closed the book and rose to his feet.

  ‘We all have our secrets,’ he added in a less elated voice. ‘One can’t always admit to them, but … well, it does the heart good to share them now and then, don’t you think so, Captain?’

  A hint of dawn was showing, a milky line on the horizon.

  Finopico suddenly seemed very tired. Orpheus went to take the tiller and dismissed him. His back bent, the redhead left the Captain without another word and disappeared down the hatch. He was carrying his book in his arms as carefully as if it were a small baby.

  Perplexed, Orpheus looked into the vastness of the sky as it turned pale. Had Finopico gone mad in his search for his mythical fish?

  He shrugged. No – Finopico was no madder than anyone else. He was pursuing a dream, like all the rest of them on board the Fabula. For Finopico, it was the Ghoom. For Malva it was Elgolia. For the twins, it was a secret that some fortune-teller had read in the cards. And what about me? thought Orpheus. He remembered his father again. When would he stop feeling ashamed of the past? Finopico might have shown that he trusted him, but Orpheus couldn’t shake off the disturbing feeling that he was only an impostor, a usurper, and didn’t deserve to be Captain of the Fabula.

  He stayed like that for some time, deep in his own thoughts. But when the sun rose he saw its first rays with a kind of joy. In daytime, it seemed to him that his ideas were less confused, and he could breathe freely. He placed his hands on the tiller and sighed.

  Malva and Lei were beginning to stir. When their heads emerged from under his jacket, eyes blinking, Orpheus waved to them. They smiled.

  ‘It’s a new day!’ he told them cheerfully. ‘We have a favouring wind, and we’re still alive. Well done the Fabula!’

  The two girls leaped to their feet and joined him.

  ‘Thank you, Lei. My wound is completely healed,’ Orpheus went on in the same enthusiastic tone. ‘I’ve never felt better! Next time I see the Archont I’ll be the one to skewer him with a sword, word of a McBott!’

  Lei smiled. Everything looked so beautiful in the rising sun.

  ‘Look!’ said Orpheus, opening his arms wide. ‘The sky is clear. We’ve overcome our fear and pain. Catabea will have to keep her word! There’s not a shadow in sight today.’

  Malva looked at him with a shy smile on her lips. His good humour and enthusiasm did her a world of good. There were only four Stones of Life left in the Nokros, nothing was gained yet, but she wanted to believe that Orpheus was right. Perhaps the gates of the Archipelago were just ahead of them? Perhaps they had only to hold their course?

  While Orpheus was shouting and hurling defiance at Catabea, Babilas and the twins appeared on deck, still drowsy. The sun welcomed them. For the first time in ages, they had had enough sleep, and their faces seemed relaxed and at rest. Orpheus shouted good morning to them, and they all gathered by the stern rail to look at the horizon, with smiles hovering on their lips.

  This morning, for the frailest of reasons, hope revived in the troubled hearts of the travellers.

  37

  The Wave

  Two more days passed, and nothing happened. The Fabula did not come to any other island, or meet with any ship or ambush. In her berth, Malva watched the morbic acid of the Nokros dripping on the Stones, torn between her desire to think that the Archipelago had really let them go, and her fear that they would be held hostage here for ever. Depending on whether her thoughts inclined her to one hypothesis or the other, she was cheerful or dejected, relaxed or panicked. Her mood swings surprised everyone.

  ‘Come on, Princess,’ Finopico told her, ‘don’t look so dismal. See what I’ve brought you!’

  Taking advantage of the calm weather to go fishing diligently, the cook showed her his catch. He had a strange assortment of fish. Some were tiny, blue and slender as dagger blades, others were huge and globular like balloons. Finopico tirelessly classified his specimens, drew them, described them, and when he had finished his studies he plunged them into boiling water and made fish soup. He was secretly hoping to find the Ghoom of the Deeps in this strange ocean. But to do that he must fish and fish without stopping.

  Orpheus kept on course, not quite sure they were going the right way. In this unknown part of the world the stars were different, the sun made a mockery of the points of the compass, and none of them were able to take their bearings. He had to fix on some objective at random and hope for the best.

  On the second night, however, when he went to join Hob and take over his watch, Orpheus felt a change in the atmosphere. First it was the wind, which shifted and grew cooler at the same time.

  ‘What’s going on, Captain?’ asked Hob anxiously, holding the tiller steady.

  Orpheus frowned, and told him they must be very watchful. At the same time there was a strange watery noise, followed by a swell that shook the hull.

  In her cabin, Malva couldn’t sleep. Now that the morbic acid was beginning to attack the last three Stones of Life she couldn’t help thinking with terror of death. She thought of Philomena too, of Elgolia, of the Baighurs, and dreadful nostalgia rose within her. When she felt the shaking hull she sat up straight in her berth.

  Her forehead was sweating, her heart was beating fast. Without stopping to think, she left her cabin and went on deck. Orpheus was leaning over the rail of the beak-head structure with a lantern in his hand.

  ‘The Fabula’s being carried away by a current – it’s getting stronger and stronger,’ he said when he saw Malva. ‘Look.’

  She went over. In spite of the darkness she could guess at the heavy swell of the sea below. There was a continuous growling sound under the hull like an animal purring. It was as if the ship were on rails, following an invisible but inescapable track.

  ‘We’ve veered off course,’ Orpheus said. ‘There’s not a breath of wind, so we can’t counter the currents.’

  ‘What’s that over there?’ asked Malva, who had raised her head. The sky was growing a little lighter, and they could see a dark shape rising vertically above the water. ‘Another ship?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ murmured Orpheus. ‘It’s moving, but …’

  They stayed silent for a moment, concentrating on the approaching shape. Its outline became clearer; no, it was not a ship.

  ‘It looks like … like a wave,’ said Malva.

  Orpheus shivered. A wave? A wave as tall as the Fabula’s mainmast? Orpheus turned and called to Hob.

  ‘Go and wake the others! Hurry!’

  Without asking for any more explanations, Hob let go of the tiller and ran to the hatch, while
Orpheus and Malva, side by side, watched the movements of the strange object which threatened to come into their path. Their hearts beat in unison, very fast. For a moment Malva thought of clinging to Orpheus for comfort, but she didn’t dare.

  ‘Are you afraid?’ he asked her.

  ‘A little.’

  He moved behind her and took her gently in his arms. A shiver ran down the back of Malva’s neck.

  ‘What about now?’ asked Orpheus. ‘Are you still afraid?’

  Disconnected words flooded Malva’s mind, but they stuck in her throat. Only a sigh passed her lips. Giving up the struggle with her own feelings, she abandoned herself to the gentle warmth of Orpheus’s body. For a few moments she saw nothing: not the sea, or the coming dawn, or the wave which was still growing. The world didn’t exist at all. She felt as if she were weightless in a bubble; her mind and body were beating time together and were one and the same. Strange as it might seem, she had never felt so close to happiness.

  But it didn’t last.

  Babilas, Finopico, Peppe and Lei ran to the stem of the ship, uttering cries. The bubble in which Orpheus and Malva floated abruptly burst, its sweetness gave way to terror, and reality took them by the throat: the Fabula was making straight for the enormous wave – unless it was the other way around.

  ‘Gorchnaim ei arthan!’ cried Babilas, leaping towards the tiller. ‘Cypell olc bhung!’

  ‘We lost!’ Lei translated in a strangled voice.

  Orpheus joined Babilas, who was trying desperately to correct the ship’s course. With their combined strength, they managed to turn the tiller, but it wasn’t enough. The wave was swelling as it advanced, and its crest of foam was rising higher and higher in the pale sky. In a few minutes it would be in their path.

  ‘Lash yourselves down!’ ordered Orpheus, when he realised that they had no hope of avoiding the wave. ‘It’s our only chance!’

  He dashed forward, uncoiled the hawsers and the ropes, passed their ends through the mortises of the capstan and the eye of the fairleads, and then threw the ropes to his companions. Suddenly he realised that Zeph wasn’t there.

  ‘Zeph? Zeph!’ he called. ‘Where’s that wretched dog?’

  ‘Asleep between-decks,’ said Finopico, tying a rope round his waist.

  Orpheus glanced at the wave. If he went down, dragged his dog up and lashed him to the deck, he might not have time to secure himself too.

  ‘Captain!’ cried Lei. ‘I not know how do with this!’

  The fair-haired girl was clumsily entangled in the sheets, and the ropes shook in her feverish hands.

  ‘You see to Zeph!’ Malva told Orpheus. ‘I learned to tie knots on the Estafador!’

  She untied herself and ran to help Lei. Orpheus hesitated, but seeing that Malva was managing very well he clambered down the steps from the hatch. He found the big St Bernard lying full length between two sea chests, with his tongue hanging out and breathing heavily.

  ‘Come here!’ he ordered. ‘And quick, by Holy Tranquillity!’

  He grabbed Zeph by the back of the neck and began dragging him to the steps, but the animal started to growl and bared his yellow teeth. A sharp sweat trickled down Orpheus’s back. He sensed the imminence of the catastrophe. For several minutes he shouted, begged, hurled insults at his dog, with no result. The St Bernard was rebelling, as usual.

  ‘Well, you’re on your own, then!’ said Orpheus, letting go of his collar.

  Frantic now, he took the steps up to the deck four at a time. When he came out Malva and Babilas were on their knees beside the twins, busy tying the hawsers to the capstan. Behind them the wave rose like a blue wall. Though Babilas was lashed in place, nothing tied Malva to the ship.

  ‘Get yourself secured!’ Orpheus shouted, running to her.

  He hardly had time to grab a rope and fling it round himself. Then he caught the girl by the waist and held her close. The wave raised the Fabula, sucked her in, unbalanced her. Orpheus rolled over the deck. His arms clutched Malva even more tightly. Cries of terror pierced his eardrums as the wave broke over the deck. It was like a deluge of cannonballs descending on to the ship. The shrill cries of Lei and the twins were soon drowned out by the enormous crash of the wave breaking.

  The Fabula tipped over on to her port side, then her starboard side, almost capsized. The shock was so violent that Orpheus felt himself being plucked from the deck. He was swept away by the water, lifted like a feather. Water rushed into his mouth and nostrils, buffeted him this way and that, whirled him round, swept over him, and finally knocked him right out.

  When he came round he was lying on the fo’c’s’le. There was absolute silence in his ears. He spat out water, coughed and retched. ‘Malva, Malva,’ murmured an insistent voice in his head. His arms closed on empty air. She had gone.

  38

  Malva’s Island

  Unlike Orpheus, Malva had not lost consciousness. When she felt him letting go of her, she had tried to cling to some part of the ship, but the current was too strong. The wave had taken her in its watery arms with a strange and almost gentle power, carrying her far from the Fabula at staggering speed.

  For a moment Malva felt as if she were flying, riding the crest of foam as if it were a horse. She saw the sky above her race past. She saw the colours of the rising sun as the last morning mists dispersed around her like cotton wool. She didn’t struggle. She was not really afraid at any point. Something in her told her that this supernatural wave had not appeared in order to kill her; she wasn’t going to drown, she wasn’t going to die. Or not yet.

  The foam carried her away, propelling her on for a long time. Then the wave seemed to die down, and its crest gradually moved lower. At last the wave washed Malva gently up on a beach, and left her there.

  She lay on the sand, eyes closed, feeling dazed. The sun very quickly dried her clothes. She stopped trembling, stretched her limbs, and let the warmth of the beach penetrate her too. The sound of the ebbing waves lulled her. Now and then she heard the chirping of birds, the rustling of wings and branches. How serene and restful everything seemed here after all that fear and confusion! How good it was to let the sun make you drowsy, thinking of nothing but your own well-being. Malva told herself that the Fabula might have sunk, but she didn’t really feel anxious. All that mattered to her just now was to feel the sand beneath her feet, her stomach, her cheeks, while a light and slightly sweet breeze tickled her nostrils. Almost in spite of herself her heart was at peace.

  After a long time she opened her eyes and stood up.

  She was on a white, sandy beach which outlined the perfect curve of a bay. Trees with supple, arching branches on which red and brown fruits hung grew along the shore. A cone-shaped building rose in the middle of the trees.

  The next moment Malva turned her back on the sea and, almost forgetting what had just happened, walked towards the building. Plants had grown on its dome, giving it a kind of undulating green hair. The ochre stone of the facade was decorated with a great many small carvings depicting people or animals, which seemed to tell the ancient history of a nation now gone. Was it a temple? A place of worship to the divinities of those people, or just a house, or a king’s burial place? Red birds turned in the air, swooped above the treetops, and came down from time to time on the stone gables.

  Malva stopped in front of the monumental door marking the entrance to the building. She hesitated for a moment: should she go in? Did she risk disturbing the peace and quiet of this place? She finally decided to walk round it. She would come back later, but just now it seemed more important to explore the rest of the island.

  She left the beach and ventured into the undergrowth of the woods. The only sounds she heard were the calls of the red birds and the wind in the branches.

  Malva was not afraid. She walked on without any anxiety. Although she had never set foot in this place, she felt as safe here as if she had known it all her life.

  The forest soon opened out into a clearing. In the middle of
the clearing, surrounded by trees with smooth trunks, Malva saw a lake of bubbling, steaming water. Her heart leaped. The words of old Bulo, the sailor on the Estafador, came back to her: hadn’t he mentioned a lake like this one in Elgolia?

  Malva went closer, knelt down on the banks of the lake and breathed in the steam. It smelled sweet, of fruits and honey. She dipped her hand in the warm water, and when she took it out she found that her skin had become softer, as fine as the skin of a very small child.

  ‘Lake Barath-Thor,’ she murmured, marvelling.

  She stood up, her heart palpitating. How could this miracle have happened? How could that wave have carried her to exactly where she dreamed of going? It was beyond understanding, but Malva was in no doubt now: she really was in Elgolia!

  Full of vigour and enthusiasm, she left the clearing and began running along the sloping ground of the island. A path of soft grass appeared at her feet, and although it traced a steep incline she had no difficulty in climbing it. Soon the trees thinned out, giving way to meadows with streams running through them. She raised her eyes. As she expected, on the summit of the island, growing on a flowery mound, a tree with a massive trunk spread its heavy branches. It was all exactly as old Bulo’s story had said!

  Malva crossed the streams with ease, brushed through the flowers, jumped over the rocks. When she reached the foot of the tree she was barely out of breath. She burst out laughing and danced in the grass until she felt dizzy. Then she leaned against the trunk of the tree and laid her cheek against its rough bark. ‘I’m on Mount Ur-Tha! I’m on Mount Ur-Tha!’ she told herself. She had never felt such intoxicating happiness.

  Around her, the island revealed all its majestic beauty. The birds with red feathers soared above the trees, the rivers sang as they flowed between crystalline rocks, the sea crinkled its surface down in the bay, and everything seemed absolutely pure and intact. So this was Elgolia: a place of peace and enchantment, a restful shelter, far from everything that had ever made Malva unhappy in the past. Here no one could make her marry anyone or become the kind of person she wasn’t. Anything was possible here.