Airborn (25 page)

“I’ll see you first thing tomorrow,” the pirate promised. “Shall we have breakfast together? You come and wake me the moment you’re up, and we’ll dine just you and me. But now, it’s late for you. Good night, my son.”

I couldn’t look away as he gathered his son once more in his arms and kissed his cheek. The boy kissed him back.

“His mother died in childbirth,” said Szpirglas as he watched his son led away by his nurse. “He’s a fine lad, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Kate said. “He’ll look like you when he’s grown.”

“Do you think?” Szpirglas asked, pleased.

“Oh, yes.”

Dinner was served. The pirates were eager enough for it, judging by the surge of cheering from the dining hall. It looked like pork, but at a glance I could tell it was overdone, and the rice looked a tad singed too. Chef Vlad would have had a fit if he’d seen it. He wouldn’t have served it to the ship’s cat, if we’d had one.

The pirates didn’t mind. Through the doorway I could see all the men and women assembled inside, and they gave a thumping chorus of approval and set to eating happily, cheered no doubt by the frothing mugs upon their tables.

Kate and I ate. We were castaways: we’d eaten next to nothing in two days; we were half-starved. I sluiced the meal down with the mango juice that kept filling up our mugs and felt better than I should have after eating such fare. Indeed, I felt almost relaxed and couldn’t account for it. My thinking was clear and fast, and our situation didn’t seem as dire as it had earlier. We were fooling Szpirglas; we would continue our playacting and tell our shaggy dog stories, and then we’d slip away under cover of night, back to our ship, and be gone.

The evening was cooling, and it was amazing how much fresher the air was here on the windward side of the island. For the first time in days I felt my sense of claustrophobia lift. From the verandah I saw the sun near the horizon, searing the ocean. The wonderful low light slanted through the trees, bathing everything red.

Szpirglas’s wineglass sparkled as he raised it to his lips. Inside the lodge, the women sang. The mango juice was delicious. The food did not taste so dry.

Suddenly my stomach clenched.

I was getting drunk. Some flavorless alcohol had been added to our mango juice, and I’d been guzzling it down like an idiot. So that was Szpirglas’s game—he wanted the truth from us and wasn’t above gliding it out of us with drink. I looked at Kate, and she smiled back at me, her cheeks flushed. How pretty she looked. But we would say something foolish soon if we were not careful. I took a deep breath, tried to sharpen up my mind.

“How many other passengers were you carrying?” Szpirglas asked me.

“Just the two, sir. Miss Simpkins and her mother.”

“It was a private charter, then, was it?”

I nodded, and perhaps it was the lift of Szpirglas’s eyebrow, but suddenly I realized my mistake. All along I’d thought it would be easier to explain away a smaller ship and fewer passengers. There would be less wreckage, fewer survivors who might wash up on the island. But Szpirglas saw what I hadn’t. A private charter meant wealthy passengers. And if Kate was wealthy, how wealthy? Who would be glad to get her back? How much would they be willing to pay?

“Your wristwatch,” Szpirglas said to Kate, “does it still work?”

I turned in dismay; I’d forgotten Kate had a wristwatch, concealed beneath the sleeve of her tunic until now. It was a fancy-looking thing too, the strap inlaid with some kind of jewels. I did not know their names, but they looked sparkly enough, and no doubt Szpirglas had instantly totted up their value in his head. Only someone wealthy would have a wristwatch as fine as this one. I felt sick.

“It does work, you know,” said Kate. “Isn’t that amazing, after being waterlogged and thrashed about?”

This was a clever bit of covering up on Kate’s part, for the chances of a wristwatch surviving a shipwreck and sea journey aboard a raft were next to nil.

“A miraculous piece of machinery,” said Szpirglas. “Swiss, perhaps?”

“Icelandic, actually.”

“Now, then, you must have loved ones you’re both eager to contact,” said Szpirglas, putting down his fork and pushing back in his chair.

“Is it possible?” Kate asked, eyes widening with hope. “My father will be desperate. He was waiting for us in the Hawaiis. Mother and I were visiting my aunt.”

“You all live in the Hawaiis, do you?” Szpirglas asked.

“Yes. Not originally. We moved there for my father’s work.”

“And what work does your father do there?”

“He’s the chief superintendent of police,” said Kate.

“Is he?” said Szpirglas, smiling.

“His work is very demanding, or he would have come with us on our trip.”

I did not know what to think of this invention. Was she trying to deter Szpirglas from harming us, thinking he’d fear incurring the full wrath of the police? I did not like it—it might easily have the opposite effect on a man like Szpirglas. Worse, he might actually know the name of the police chief, in which case we had just been discovered as liars. But it was out now, and I would have to abide by its new rules. I wished Kate were not so enthusiastic at this game of deceit.

“Mr. Crumlin, bring pen and paper for these two so they can write messages.” He turned to us. “Make sure to include the address so we can telegram them for you.”

“Would you!” said Kate.

“And your family too, my lad. Let them know you’re all right.”

I nodded eagerly, but a worry sprang into my head. No doubt they did have a wireless on board, but this was just a ruse. What they really wanted was to check on Kate’s identity.

“We’ll radio in the morning from our ship. We’ll take off first thing and you can show us to the crash site—as close as you can recall anyway, and we can begin a search for your dear mother. After that, we can arrange for your passage on to the Hawaiis.”

“You’re very kind, sir. Thank you,” said Kate.

“Not at all, miss. It’s a pleasure to assist such fine young people.” He looked at Kate as he said this, and I did not care for the look.

“Now, tonight, all you need do is rest yourselves. Our accommodation is a bit humbler than you’re used to, no doubt, Miss Simpkins, but please take my private cabin for yourself. It will give you some comfort.”

“Oh, no, that’s quite unnecessary.”

“I insist. Mr. Cruse, you won’t mind bunking with Mr. Crumlin and me?”

“Not at all, no. Thank you very much.”

I’d feared as much. I’d assumed Kate and I were to be separated, but I hadn’t counted on sharing a room with Szpirglas and his mate.

Mr. Crumlin appeared with some dog-eared bits of paper and a bottle of ink.

“There you are,” said Szpirglas. “Just a brief note to let them know you’re well. No point in adding more worry to your traumas.”

What was I to do? I scribbled a note and invented an address in Lionsgate City.

“And now you, miss,” said Szpirglas, moving the nib and bottle over to her.

I could not imagine what she would write, but prayed she would invent some address. The message itself did not matter, but I wondered if Kate was thinking clearly.

“My father will be so relieved,” she said, “and most grateful. Is there some way we can make a donation to the Sky Guard in thanks? I can think of no more worthier institution than yours.”

“You’re very kind, miss.”

“My father is most influential, and I’m sure he’d be only too happy to sing your praises.”

I wished she’d shut up about her father and all his money. She was not helping.

“Now, then, let me speak to my steward and see about your cabin, Miss Simpkins.”

He and Mr. Crumlin left us alone at the table. The other crew were still swilling and eating inside, the windows tipped open. There was much loud singing and cheering. We could finally speak together.

“Shush about your father,” I told her.

“Why?”

“He might think you’re worth holding on to for a ransom.”

“We’re escaping,” she said jauntily.

I frowned. Typical of her to have the fairy-tale plan. Easy as that. Let’s just escape. Never mind that I’d be cooped up in a room with Szpirglas and his mate.

“Got it all figured out, then, do you?”

“I do, actually. Can I finish off your mango juice?”

“No.” I pushed the mug away from her reaching hand. “It’s spiked with something. He’s trying to get us drunk so we’d slip up if we were lying.”

“Good luck to him,” she said. “I’m not in the slightest bit slipsy.”

“You just said slipsy.”

“I know. I was just teasing. Now listen,” she whispered, “when everyone’s asleep, we’ll slip out of our rooms and get back to the ship. It’ll be ready to take off by morning, won’t it?”

She wasn’t as dopey as I’d thought. “That’s what I’m hoping,” I told her. “Can you find your way across the landing field to the place we came out of the forest? Do you remember the way?”

“Of course,” she said, her nostrils narrowing a bit. “I’m not as hopeless as you like to think.”

“Good. We’ll meet there.” I thought briefly of the cloud cat, but surely it was not nocturnal: we’d always seen it during the day.

“Shall we set a time?” Kate asked.

“No point. These lads may be up to all hours whooping it up. Wait until it gets quiet, and make your run when you can. It’ll be a big moon tonight, and clear, so keep to the shadows. There may be lookouts. Then just wait for me in the trees if I’m not already there.”

I wished the plan could have been better. If I’d known where we were each to be lodged, we might have made a rendezvous sooner; as it was, we’d just have to do our best alone.

I saw Szpirglas coming back toward us and all I had time to say to Kate safely was “Don’t fall asleep,” and then we shut up. There could be no more planning. I only hoped that we’d played our parts well enough, that Szpirglas thought us ignorant and would not be expecting us to flee the village in the dead of night.

17

THE PIT

“You take the hammock, my lad,” Szpirglas said. “It’s sure to give you a good night’s sleep, and you need it.”

“Oh, no, Captain Anglesea, sir. You should have it,” I said, trying to hide my dismay.

“Won’t hear of it,” said Szpirglas, all courtesy. “I’ve had my fill of hammocks aboard ship anyway. I’ll be happy as a king to sleep on solid ground tonight.” He nodded at a reed mat on the floor. It was practically beneath my hammock.

“Thank you very much,” I said, feeling greasy with all the pork and rice and mango juice. “You’re very kind.” I protested no more, for I did not want to make him suspicious.

A hammock is a tricky thing to get into. Perch on the edge and it will flip you off. You’ve got to get right into the middle, fast. I hopped in backward, and the ropes creaked like the devil’s own accordion. You’d think the thing was spun from rusted gossamer. I swallowed. Getting off quietly would be next to impossible, especially with Szpirglas directly underfoot.

Crumlin was settling down into a second hammock. The room was actually his and was off the dining hall in the big lodge. It was well past midnight, and the last of the pirates had now left for their own huts and bunkhouses. I could only hope they would sleep deeply after all the grog they’d gulped.

Szpirglas looked at me and laughed.

“Do you mean to sleep in your boots, then?”

“Oh.” There they were, still on my feet. I tried to look surprised and laughed, for I had left them on in the hopes no one would notice. I would need them in the forest, and I didn’t want to waste time fumbling for them in the middle of the night.

With a heavy heart I unlaced them and carefully dropped them on the floor near the top of the hammock. I hoped I would not have to leave them behind.

“You’ll sleep better for it, lad,” said Szpirglas, taking off his own boots.

I couldn’t believe I was bunking down with pirates. Not an everyday sort of thing. It was a wonder to me they even slept; I couldn’t imagine such men at rest, their faces smooth and innocent despite the wickedness of their hearts.

“You’re an impressive lad, to survive what you did,” Szpirglas said as he doused the oil lantern. “You might give some thought to working for us, you know. Now that your own ship has been lost. We’ve need of a good cabin boy. Our last decided to leave us.”

At this Crumlin chuckled mirthlessly.

“That’s very kind of you, sir. It’d be an honor to work with the Sky Guard.”

It must have been nerves, but I almost giggled in the dark. Maybe my chances of promotion were greater if I did ship out with pirates. I was assuming there might be more frequent opportunities aboard ship, what with crew members getting shot or thrown in jail. Surely Szpirglas could use an extra sailmaker.

I lay on my back, cradled by the creaking hammock. In the darkness I could feel Szpirglas’s eyes boring into my shoulder blades. I didn’t like being parted from Kate. I wasn’t even sure where her cabin was. I’d visited the latrines earlier and tried to get a sense of the village’s layout; I imagined that Szpirglas’s hut would be one of the nicer-looking ones, but one bamboo hut looked much like another to me. How typical of Kate de Vries to get the private cabin. I hoped she was nice and comfy and feeling grateful she didn’t have to smell Crumlin’s boozy breath and whiffy socks. Probably she wasn’t at all frightened. What could be more exhilarating than a pirate capture? It was something right out of one of her books.

Crumlin was already snoring, the great yak. Below me, Szpirglas was silent, but to me it sounded like the silence someone makes when they are pretending to be asleep. There’s just something too still and rigid about it. My heart clattered so loudly I was worried it was making my hammock swing. I tried to smooth my breathing. I thought of the
Aurora.
I pictured the rubber hosing shuttling the hydrium from the cave and shushing it through the forest toward the ship. I imagined its whispered hiss as it filled the gas cells. I saw the gas cell slowly swelling and the
Aurora
growing firmer and stronger. And the hissing sound got louder and louder and my thoughts streamed off up into the air and stars and—

I had to seize hold of myself and yank myself back awake. No more calming thoughts for me now. I prayed Kate would not let herself fall asleep, for the urge was so strong. I cursed my own stupidity at guzzling so much of the pirates’ drink. It might well have been poison. And why hadn’t it been?

I was fairly certain now that Szpirglas meant to keep Kate for ransom, but he would have no use for me. Unless he meant to press me into service. But, no, I doubted his intentions for me were so sunny. If I did not escape, he would dispense with me.

Was he hoping I’d sleep, or hoping I’d make an escape so he could follow me? It was a sickening thought. He’d put me in this infernal hammock for a reason. Maybe he wasn’t sure I’d bolt, but if I did, he wanted to know about it.

I wondered how Bruce was making out. His leg would slow him down, and night might have fallen before he’d reached the
Aurora
. Would he keep walking through the darkness or wait for the dawn to continue?

I rolled onto my stomach. What a noise that made, but I figured they’d be even more suspicious if I made no sounds at all. Everyone shuffles and shimmies about when sleeping. I cracked open an eye and looked down at Szpirglas. His eyes were closed and his breathing calm. He seemed genuinely asleep.

In the smudgy darkness of the room, I looked about at my possible exits. There was the door that opened out into the hall of the lodge. And there was a window, big enough to get through. It was hinged at the top and held open with a bamboo stick. The door was out of the question. Earlier someone had slumped drunkenly against it and fallen asleep in the hallway. His shadow blotted out the crack under the door, and I heard his great racking snores.

It had to be the window.

My hammock was bolted to the wall, quite close to the window. I didn’t dare try to swing myself out of the hammock, for I feared the noise it would make. The hammock would have to be my tightrope.

Now was the time.

I looked down at my boots. If I stretched, I might just grab them. But I would have to lean way over, and that would make the hammock rock, and I might end up getting spilled out with a rusty pirate-rousing shriek. Even if I could snatch them up, I’d just have to hold them, and I needed both hands free now. I never thought I’d look at a pair of boots with such longing. I removed my socks and placed them quietly on the hammock; I must be barefoot for the acrobatics I was about to attempt. My feet would get awfully bloodied and bruised in the forest, but that would be a small price to pay for freedom.

Flat on my belly I dragged myself up along the hammock, toward the wooden dowel from which all the netting was strung. The hammock quietly creaked. It wanted to roll. It wanted to pitch me off and onto Szpirglas’s chest.

I would not let it.

With my hands on the dowel, I slowly knelt, bringing one knee up at a time, keeping perfect balance. I stood, feet planted wide.

The hammock sighed.

I fixed my eyes to the window.

Below me Szpirglas gave a snort. I dared not look down for fear of losing my balance. I stood, hovering above him, an acrobat. If he’d seen me, he would speak. If he said nothing, he was still asleep.

He said nothing.

I stepped nimbly onto the ends of the dowel, my feet curling around the rope and wood. There were three feet between me and the window.

I leaped. I spread my arms like wings and when I landed on the windowsill I made myself believe that my bones were hollow, that I was so light the wood would scarcely know my weight. My feet gripped the narrow sill, and my hands reached up and touched the window’s upper frame.

Lighter than air, I was.

But not light enough, for with a rattle, the stick holding the window jiggled and slipped and fell outside onto the verandah. The window started swinging down; in less than a tick it would slam shut.

I took one of my hands off the frame and caught the window with my spread fingers against the glass. The hinges gave a little whine. I closed my eyes, breathed, waited. Behind me, Crumlin and Szpirglas made not a sound.

I have walked the back of the
Aurora
in a gale.

I have swung across the ocean from airship to balloon.

I can do this.

Someone was sleeping outside on the verandah, just to the right of the window.

I held the window up as far as it would go and jumped through. I kept my arm up high so it would catch the window as it fell back shut, and as my feet cushioned my silent fall on the verandah, the window swung back and pincered my hand against the sill. But there was no sound: the shriek of pain was only in my head. Gingerly I took my fingers out, found the stick lying against the belly of a sleeping pirate, and propped the window back open. I padded across the verandah, climbed the railing, and sprang off, picking for my landing site a place without crackly leaves or branches. I landed in a crouch and froze, looking all around, drinking in the darkness and watching for movement.

I wanted to find Kate’s cabin, but I did not know which one it was, and I was afraid of wasting time. I would just have to hope she’d get out on her own.

I started moving, seeking out the shadows for cover.

And then I was into the trees.

I ran. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, sharp as an owl’s. I saw by starlight and moonlight filtered through the branches and leaves. The air was velvet. I could run all night, I felt that strong. I was a wolf. My feet barely touched the ground. They did not hurt. I was free of the pirates’ room. I flew through the forest. In the landing field the moon shone darkly on the moored airship and the tall grass. I would stick to the trees and run all the way around to the far side where Kate and I had first emerged. Without my belt, my trousers were a bit loose around my hips. Every once in a while I had to give them a good tug. But my lungs did not burn. I had no cramps. I kept running.

I was on the far side of the field now, and I slowed. I listened for Kate. I whispered her name. I looked around. I went a little deeper into the forest and whispered her name some more. I stared at the stars, and knew it was well past two. I pictured Kate in her cabin, peering through her window, about to begin her run.

I sat down against a tree near the field’s edge and hugged my knees and waited. Cloud blotted out the moon for a moment, and it was truly dark. She would come before I counted to a hundred. But she did not. I gave her another hundred and then stood and walked along the field’s border, whispering her name, fearing she was lost.

But she was not so helpless. She had found her way from the ship, across the island, and down the bluff into the valley quite happily. She was capable. If she’d left her cabin, she would be here. Unless she’d been caught. Unless something was wrong.

My throat felt thick. I did not want to go back to the pirate camp. I was free here in the woods. I felt I belonged to the night air, and I did not want to venture back and risk being caught. I wanted to run to the ship, my ship, and warn her and cast off.

I took a breath, stood, and started back toward the pirate village.

I decided to risk it and run across the landing field, for it would be faster. I entered the village quietly as a deer, for I feared a trap. I lingered at the edges, looked toward the bungalows. There was no one in sight. I went to the first that seemed likely and found a window and saw half a dozen men sleeping on mats and hammocks. I went to the next, and through the window saw the nurse Delilah sleeping on a mat near Szpirglas’s son, Theodore. The next hut over was the right one. It was a proper little house, with furniture and a desk and a sofa and a bed, and on the bed was Kate, fast asleep.

I skirted round the bungalow to the door and pulled at the handle, but it was made fast from the inside. I dared not knock. Back to the window I went. Luckily it was not locked. I pushed it all the way open and hoisted my belly over the sill. Headfirst I slid into the room, landing in a handstand.

I went to her side and put a hand on her shoulder. The fragrance of deep sleep was all around her. I whispered her name in her ear. She made a small sound, and her eyelids crinkled like she wanted me to go away and leave her be. I gave her a rough shake and said her name again, this time not so gently.

Her eyes opened, and she looked at me most reproachfully for a few seconds. Then her eyes flicked around the room in horror.

“I fell asleep,” she breathed.

“Come on now.”

“I fell asleep,” she said again in disbelief. “I’m so sorry.” She was fully dressed at least. I headed for the door.

“Do I have time to visit the toilets?” she asked.

I stared back at her, incredulous. “You can go in the forest later.”

“I certainly won’t,” she said.

“Suit yourself.”

“All very well for boys,” she muttered.

I turned the latch and opened the door.

Szpirglas stood before me.

“This is most improper,” he said.

I had no words.

“I thought I recognized you,” Szpirglas said, “but I wasn’t sure, and you playacted so well. I thought to myself, If they try to get away, they know who we are—and they’ve got another way off this island.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Captain Anglesea!” I said desperately.

He struck me hard across the face. “You know my real name, boy! Why didn’t you run when you first saw us at the landing field, eh? You’re protecting someone, and something.” He shoved me back and strode into the bungalow, followed by his mate. “Mr. Crumlin, rouse a search party immediately. We may have a ship to salvage. Where is the
Aurora
?”

“Your props tore us to shreds!” I told him. “The ship crashed. Only some of us got off.”

“No. You’re lying. Where is she?”

I stopped talking.

“Perhaps your fancy friend here will be more cooperative. What do you say? You seem attached to the girl. It might upset you to see us torture her. Tell me what I need to know and save her from torment. How does that strike you?”