by Nadia Aguiar
Half-Moon, Dawn
We were attacked after midnight last night, in the waters around Lafton’s Pass, by two vessels from the North. They boarded us and stole our cargo and, after shredding our sail, left us tied up on the deck. We were drifting until late today, when we were discovered by a ship from our own side who, being much bigger, was able to tow us to shore, where the Pamela Jane is currently being fitted with a new sail. It now seems certain that we will join the war fleet as a fighting vessel.
Gibbous Moon, Afternoon
It’s become clear that Captain Ademovar is not concerned with fighting for his side of Tamarind, but like so many, he is interested only in his own profit and in bloodlust. All around the island, ordinary sailors conscripted into the war fleets are becoming nothing but scurrilous pirates. There isn’t a night that goes by without us hearing explosions in the towns along the coast and seeing the orange glow of the fires. We hear stories about whole families who have been killed and young men who have run off to fight in the jungle. Tamarind is collapsing into anarchy with ever greater speed, and there seems now that nothing can be done to turn back the tide.
The light through the window was fading, so Maya leaned closer to the pages, squinting.
Half-Moon, Afternoon
It took until midday today before the bloodstains were washed off our deck. And as I write this I see yet another body bobbing facedown on the water, being carried to shore on the tide. There were fifty ships in battle last night. The night sky was lit by burning ships glowing furiously before they sank into the dark sea. The scent of gunpowder hung heavy in the air. Thank fully, our dear ship was spared great damage, our closest call coming when a cannonball tore clean through our mainsail and landed in the sea on the opposite side of us. An enemy vessel drew alongside us at one point, and Captain Ademovar murdered the two men who tried to come aboard. He took joy in the murders. Last night was our fourth battle in as many weeks and tomorrow our captain desires to attack a tiny town on the northwest coast of the island. I can hardly bear to think that we will do this to our neighbors. We will fire on the town, then he and the others will plunder what they can—there are many who plan to be wealthy when this war ends. Because of my leg, I am allowed to remain behind.
Full Moon, Night
The moon is so bright tonight that there are hardly any shadows on the deck of the Pamela Jane and the waters around us are dazzling. In all this light I am afraid that Captain Ademovar will be able to peer into my heart and discover my plan.
The idea occurred to me when I was remembering the good days with our old captain again. I remembered all the stories he used to tell us, and how I always loved to hear about the Outside. Most people don’t believe the Outside World exists, of course. But our old captain was one of the ones who did. He had a friend who had been there, who had dared to cross the Blue Line, and had returned. He said the Outside World was unimaginably vast. Our captain used to tell us stories about it on nights on the Pamela Jane. He’d ask us, jokingly, if we wanted to try to sail out to the Line.
Three nights ago I started to think that perhaps I would try to do that, to take the Pamela Jane far away from here, to where the Blue Line was, and I would try to make it to the Outside World. Perhaps there I can find help for Tamarind.
Clenching the logbook tightly, Maya glanced ahead. There were only two entries left.
New Moon, night
It is my ninth day adrift.
It was more than a week ago now that we were in port on a dark cloudy night. I left Captain Ademovar and the rest of the crew drinking on shore and I snuck back to the Pamela Jane. I had been waiting for such a night, when the sails would not be illuminated in the moonlight and visible to any ship that gave chase. I set sail alone. But Captain Ademovar had sensed that something was afoot and before I had gone far he discovered what I had done. He came after me in a small, fast boat. He came aboard the Pamela,, abandoning the small boat, and we fought. He overpowered me and locked me in the cabin, but by then we were in sight of a dark line just off the horizon. I could just see it through the portholes, barely visible under the moon. It was the Blue Line, and soon the terrible storms that brew around it were upon us.
For two days we were caught in the edge of the storm, unable to sail into or out of it. I banged on the cabin door and shouted until I was hoarse, but Captain Ademovar would not let me out, even to help him steer the boat. Finally, during a lull, I took off my wooden leg and smashed down the door with it and succeeded in freeing myself.
Maya paused and looked up. Wooden leg. An idea was forming in her mind. She read on.
Captain Ademovar attacked me when I came on deck, but this time I was ready. We fought until we were weary. I did not mean to send him overboard, but I dodged when he ran at me—and he slipped. Suddenly he was in the water and the sharks were around him, tearing at his flesh. I untied the rowboat and cast it off toward him. He was able to grasp it and pull himself in, but I do not know what happened to him after that. The storms were gathering again and with a last look toward beloved Tamarind, I hoisted the jib and sailed into the storm. I fear that was the last I will ever see of my home.
The compass is shattered and the sextant is broken and I must admit that I have no idea where I am. For days now I have been hovering between storms and I’m concerned about the state of the Pamela Jane. I am writing this in a brief period of calm, though the fog is so thick I can barely see the page I write on.
There was only one entry left before the journal ended abruptly. A sick feeling was growing in the pit of Maya’s stomach but she could not stop reading now.
First Quarter Moon, night
I crossed the Blue Line into the Outside, but have found no one here. We are becalmed. Though the sea is peaceful now, the Pamela Jane has been caught in so many storms now that she has been quite badly damaged. The sails are torn and the jib mast is cracked, and I’m afraid that if another storm strikes, which seems inevitable, I will not be able to keep us from capsizing. The poor Pamela Jane has been heroic, and it’s for her I feel saddest. My home seems very far away now. The moonlight is eerie on the water and the creaking of the rigging may be the loneliest sound in the world.
I, Hábil Izquierdo, First Mate of the Pamela Jane, believe this may be my last entry in this book.
The entries in the logbook stopped there.
Maya sat there, reeling. She could only guess what had happened after the last entry had been written. All the pieces were swirling in her mind, taking shape.
Dr. Izquierdo, Dr. Hábil Izquierdo.
The wooden leg.
The pirate ships.
The Blue Line.
The Outside World.
Their parents’ discovery of an abandoned ship, its sails in tatters, that had sailed in without a crew one afternoon, and that no one had ever claimed, with the name stenciled in black letters across her hull: Pamela Jane.
Dr. Izquierdo’s strange fascination with the boat that day in St. Alban’s. The telltale clicking sound of one of his shoes on the dock that Maya had noticed as he walked away. His very name, there in the logbook of their ship, hidden until now.
The full import of her discovery struck her:
The Pamela Jane, their beloved Pamela Jane, with her crisp white sails and sunny yellow hull, had come from Tamarind.
The ship that she and Simon and Penny had all grown up on was a pirate ship.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Thoughts on Izquierdo * Isabella's Last
Hope * The Fateful Conch *
Farewell, Isabella
Here, said Helix. “I brought you some bread, in case you changed your mind and got hungry.”
Maya jumped, startled, as he came into the room. She had been sitting alone in the dark with the logbook on her knees, absorbing the significance of her discovery.
“I know why the pirates want the Pamela Jane,” she said. She opened the logbook again and turned it around so that Helix could see the journal that had appeared i
n the mist from the moon oranges.
“Here—it’ll be easiest if you just read it yourself,” she said, handing the book to him.
But Helix didn’t take it.
“You just tell me what it says,” he said.
In the moonlight, Maya noticed that the color had risen in his cheeks. Then she understood.
“You can’t read!” she exclaimed.
Helix shook his head.
“Really?”
“Maya!”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that . . .” Maya didn’t finish the sentence, but what she meant was that she had never met anyone who couldn’t read before, at least, not a person her own age. It seemed so strange, and she momentarily forgot about everything she had just read in the logbook.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” said Helix. “Not too many schools around here anymore.”
“Well, never mind then, I’ll just tell you what’s in it,” she said. Helix was obviously ashamed and she felt bad for him. Helix listened quietly as she related the story in the journal.
“So,” she said. “There must have been one last big storm and Hábil Izquierdo was washed overboard. He must have made it to shore somehow, though. That’s why the Pamela Jane was drifting along on her own when my family found her, and that’s why no one ever claimed her.”
“It means that Hábil Izquierdo, Dr. Izquierdo, whoever he is, he’s been stuck on the Outside all this time,” said Helix somberly.
Maya nodded. She felt surprisingly sad. It seemed so strange that someone who had written in their logbook—whose own words and thoughts, even the ink from his quill pen, were still preserved there—had lived on the Pamela Jane long before Maya had even been born, and may even now have some claim over their home. She turned to the first page again and ran her finger over the red seal that she and Simon had seen before. It must have been Hábil Izquierdo’s personal seal.
“But what I don’t understand,” she said. “Is how he knew we would be arriving at St. Alban’s that day. Has he been trying to track down the Pamela Jane all that time? Why did he just find us then?”
Maya racked her brains but she couldn’t figure anything out. She only ended up with more questions. How did Dr. Izquierdo know Dr. Fitzsimmons? Was he involved in the Red Coral Project somehow? She remembered the two figures standing on the dock as they had left the port at St. Alban’s. How were all these things connected? She knew her parents mustn’t have told them the whole truth about what they were doing out at sea.
“Wait until Simon hears,” said Helix finally. “The Pamela Jane was a pirate ship.”
Maya smiled. “He’s going to think it’s the greatest thing ever,” she said.
Her eyes suddenly filled with tears.
“Don’t cry, Maya,” said Helix.
Maya sniffled. “Sorry,” she said. She sighed. “I’ll have to try to figure all this out later. Right now I have to concentrate on getting to Simon and Penny.”
Isabella came to get Maya and Helix early the next morning. A truck was waiting for them under the mango trees. They waved to the driver and hopped into the back, which was covered by canvas.
Maya and Helix were Isabella’s last desperate hope, but she could only assist them so far on their voyage. They would drive north through the valleys to the foot of the mountains. After this, Isabella couldn’t help them anymore. When they reached the mountains they would leave the truck and proceed on a trail that led to the North and eventually the town of Bembao. The mountains—where the war had begun—were buckled ridges that had long been considered treacherous in Tamarind. They were riddled with ophalla mines, and after the mines dried up, the rebels hid out there and they used to fight in the hills. But it was said that avalanches happened so frequently that eventually even the rebels left and moved down into the jungle. Isabella believed that there were still a handful of very old towns in the valleys—the In-between Towns—who had little contact with the rest of Tamarind. Maya remembered what went on in the jungle that no one knew about, and she imagined the worst about the mountain pass.
Once out of the mountains, they were to deliver a note from Isabella to Gloria, who they would find in the only blue house on the hill overlooking the town of Bembao. Isabella told them nothing more about the plan after that point. She said it was best that this was all they knew.
“Good luck,” said Isabella.
“Good luck to you, too,” said Maya.
Maya opened her backpack and took out the conch shell. She had decided last night that she would give it to Isabella. She and Helix would be traveling all the way across the island— where the mermaids would never hear them. And Isabella needed all the help she could get if the march was going to work.
“Friends gave this to me to use if I needed it,” Maya said. “A giant and three mermaids. I want you to have it. If you use it, they’ll come to help you.”
Isabella took the shell and held it, mesmerized, the sunlight bright on its knobs and ridges. She began to say thank you, but stopped. She looked at Maya and for a brief second Maya thought that she detected something guilty and sorrowful in Isabella’s eyes. Isabella took her hand and squeezed it.
“Maya,” she said, “once you get the note to Gloria, you must get your brother and sister off the ship as soon as possible. There won’t be any time to waste.”
She looked Maya in the eye.
“But promise me that you’ll take the note to Gloria,” she said urgently. “If the note doesn’t reach her, everything will fall apart. All of Tamarind is counting on you, even if they don’t know it. One day you’ll be known for the great role you played in the history of Tamarind—the young Tamarinder and the brave Outsider who carried the message that began the great Peace March. You won’t be forgotten.” Isabella spoke with great emotion.
“I promise we’ll get the note to Gloria,” Maya said solemnly.
“Travel safely,” Isabella said. “I hope we’ll meet again.”
Maya felt a lump in her throat as the truck drove off. She leaned out of the back to wave. Isabella stood barefoot on the gravel path, her blue dress fluttering in a breeze that had picked up. Then the lush, hungry walls of the jungle closed over the road and she was lost to sight.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Journey Through the Mountains *
A Sad Loss * By the Waterfall *
Helix’s Story * Insight
They took a winding road that immediately began to climb the hills behind the orphanage. Every now and then Maya caught sight of Seagrape following them. At one point they stopped and she flew in and spent most of the journey to Lopez-Marcanzo sitting on the floor of the truck near Maya’s feet, looking seasick and disgruntled. Mumbling, she pulled peevishly at her feathers and once she nipped Helix’s ankle. Maya bent down to stroke her head every now and then.
As they drove it was impossible to miss the mark the war had left. In some towns all that remained of whole streets were craters from explosions. Graveyards on the fringes of each town overflowed with headstones. Some towns had built walls around them and old men stood at the gates, rifles in hand. Fields lay fallow. They passed young children on the road, carrying buckets of water on their shoulders from village wells. They drove through orchards that one time would have been lush and bountiful, but now the aisles between the trees were clotted with weeds and the branches bore shriveled fruit. Masses of flies buzzed loudly over rotting windfall.
They were stopped at several roadblocks and at each one Maya stiffened and Seagrape fell silent, her soft feathers against Maya’s bare legs, but the truck was always waved through.
They stopped in the town of Lopez-Marcanzo, the last town before the mountains, where they were supposed to meet Lucia, one of the sisters, who would give them food for the rest of their journey and fuel for the truck. It was a very tiny, poor town. They ended up at the end of a rutted dirt lane, studded with banana plants. A young woman came out of the tin shack and ushered them furtively inside.
“I�
��m happy to meet another sister—and brother—of the Peaceful Revolution,” said Lucia, shaking their hands warmly. “Isabella sent word late last night that you’d be coming. We were expecting you earlier—I was worried—the roads are so bad these days. I’m glad to see you made it here safely.”
Lucia had prepared a meal for them, which they sat down gratefully to eat. Before they left they thanked her, and she squeezed both their hands again.
“I’m happy to do my part,” she said. “Isabella is a very great woman. One day it’s my dream to meet her. You’re lucky you’ve already had the chance.”
Maya looked up, startled. A very great woman! She opened her mouth, about to say that Isabella was just a girl—a girl Maya’s own age!—and not even a very big girl at that. But then she stopped. If Isabella’s plan did bring peace to Tamarind, she would be a very great woman.
They drove out of Lopez-Marcanzo, climbing into the foothills of the mountains. The tin shacks thinned out and soon they were driving along with no houses in sight. Finally the driver cut the engine.
“Well,” Helix said. “I guess this is it.”
They climbed out of the truck. Ahead of them the road, which had been growing narrower and rockier for some time, petered into a single dirt footpath along a ridge.
Maya gazed around at the vista. They were in the middle of a great enormity. Miles below were vast valleys and miles above were the barren peaks of mountains frosted with snow in the thin air. Far below, Maya could see what must surely be a broad, fast-flowing river, but from this distance was merely a silver trickle flashing in the sunlight. A pair of condors coasted silently in the air over the valley. The whole scene took Maya’s breath away. She and Helix stood there for a few moments gazing out at it. How would they ever cross this? The size of the mountains humbled Maya and she held back despair that she might never see her brother and sister again.
