History Keepers: Nightship to China (7 page)

When he heard his father and aunt calling his name, he hid in a little compartment where the straw was kept, covering himself completely.

After a while the shouts stopped. Jake lay there a little longer. He was exhausted, his eyelids feeling heavier and heavier.

Suddenly a vision came to him – he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or a hallucination – of his mother crying out. The
Escape
had been holed in a storm and was being dragged down under the foaming waves. His eyes shot open and he sat up with a jolt. ‘I have to stop them . . .’ he muttered, running out of the stable and down the path to the other side of the island. But the pier was deserted, save for a single person, and the
Escape
was disappearing towards the grey line of the horizon.

‘
Nooooo!
’ Jake yelled.

Signor Gondolfino was watching the retreating ship. Jake flew past him, to the very edge of the pier and called out again at the top of his voice: ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry . . .’ The sea seemed to mock him: there was no chance anyone on that ship could hear him.

Signor Gondolfino approached, tapping his way carefully along the quay with his ivory cane. ‘
Mi dispiace tanto
, Jake,’ he said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. ‘My deep regrets. Your mother gave me this for you.’ He handed over a note:

You’re my special boy, I love you
.

Mum

Jake watched the ship disappear over the horizon; then his face crumpled and he started to cry. Signor Gondolfino put an arm around him. ‘
Piangi, caro mio
. You cry – it’s good for you. It’s so hard to be grown up.
Magari fossimo bambini per sempre
. If only we could be children for ever.’

A drop of rain fell from the sky, splattering onto Gondolfino’s silk jacket. Then another; and another. Soon they were soaked to the skin.

JAKE WAS WIDE
awake, tossing and turning, the events of the day haunting him. It was gone two when he heard a single deep toll from somewhere far below. There were many bells that rang on the island for many different reasons, but this one had a distinctive tone that was unfamiliar to Jake. It sounded ominous.

A few moments later, he heard doors slamming and footsteps clattering along corridors; then urgent voices coming from the quay. He went over to the window and looked down. Galliana, hurriedly fastening her cloak, was issuing orders to two boatmen. As they started preparing a ship – the
Tulip
, a craft that Jake had sailed in on an ill-fated expedition to Stockholm – Jupitus Cole emerged, buttoning his jacket and putting on his top hat, followed swiftly by Dr Chatterju with a bulging leather case.

Jake
had
to know what was going on. He threw on some clothes, put on his boots, and hurriedly made his way down to the ground floor.

‘What’s happened?’ he asked the doctor on arriving at the pier.

‘The doom bell just rang!’

‘The
doom bell
?’

‘SOS. Someone’s got into difficulty trying to enter the north-western horizon point!’ Horizon points, Jake knew, were the places where agents could leap through time.

He felt sick, fearing the worst. ‘Is it my parents?’ he asked, remembering his terrible vision.

‘No,’ Chatterju said. ‘The mayday signal came from the past, the 1790s. Your parents were heading the other way.’

‘But perhaps they got lost in time?’ Jake persisted. It wouldn’t have been the first time they had taken a wrong turn.

‘All we have is an SOS,’ the doctor replied, opening his case to check the contents: it was full of medical instruments, bottles of medicine and syringes.

Galliana and Jupitus rushed aboard the
Tulip
and started up the engine. Chatterju bustled up the gangplank after them.

Jake was desperate to follow. ‘Can I assist in any way?’ he called hopefully. Galliana and Jupitus stared at him, their opposition clear.

‘The more hands the better . . .’ Dr Chatterju offered. ‘Who knows what trouble they might be in . . . Whoever
they
are.’

Reluctantly Galliana agreed. ‘Quickly, then.’

Jake hurried up the gangplank, the boatmen untied the rope, and a second later the vessel lurched away from the sea wall. Behind him, he heard the main doors crash open; then more hurrying footsteps, and Nathan appeared, followed by Yoyo.

‘What’s happened?’ the American shouted from the quayside.

‘SOS from someone entering the north-western horizon point,’ Jake called back.

His two friends watched, powerless, as the ship sped off. It flew into the night, guided by the gold rings of the Constantor towards the horizon point.

From time to time, Jake glanced at Galliana standing at the helm, the wind in her long grey hair. He realized that he only knew her in the context of the island, as an administrator – not as an adventurer. Now, for the first time, he got a sense of what she must have been like as a young agent in the field, determined and calm. Suddenly he longed to know about the missions she had undertaken. ‘Commander,’ he ventured, ‘may I ask, how can we be sure that the SOS did not come from an enemy faction?’

‘Mayday signals are encrypted like all Meslith messages,’ she replied, her eyes glancing at the Constantor, ‘but of course, there is never a hundred per cent certainty.’

Jupitus illustrated the point by removing pistols from a chest beside the helm. He handed one each to Galliana and Chatterju – but none to Jake.

‘Everyone to be armed, Mr Cole,’ the commander declared coolly.

Jupitus passed another weapon over, saying, ‘As a precaution only, you understand?’ Jake nodded.

As the three golden discs on the Constantor began to align, they became even more vigilant, scanning the ocean for any sign of a vessel in trouble. Sturdy waves rolled across the Atlantic.

Jake, watching from the starboard rail, noticed it first: a soft whistling in the air. He looked around, scanning the dark water. The mysterious sound grew shriller and louder. ‘There’s something here,’ he called, and Jupitus and Chatterju rushed over. As they watched, bubbles foamed on the surface; then the water began to curve in on itself, creating a hollow in the sea: the imprint of the hull of a ship that hadn’t yet materialized through time. Jake felt a pulse of fear.

As Jupitus and Chatterju cocked their guns, there was a sudden intense rush of air, then an explosion of spectral light, immediately followed by shouts and the creaking of timbers as the vessel suddenly took shape, filling the void.

She was a small sailing yacht, half the size of their own ship. It was certainly not the
Escape
; not his parents. But who could it be?

‘Right hand down!’ Jupitus yelled to the commander, fearing they might forge straight into it. She obeyed, narrowly missing the yacht.

Jake could see that the other ship was in danger: her prow was sinking and water foamed up through the smashed timbers of the deck. A man in a high-collared coat, seemingly the only person on board, stood with his legs braced as he shouted for help over the tumult. He was Galliana’s age – in his fifties, Jake guessed – and had the bearing of an adventurer. His thick hair was still blond despite his age, and seemed oddly familiar to Jake. He was obviously not the enemy, as Jupitus and Chatterju immediately threw down their weapons.

Without hesitation Jupitus jumped up onto the rail and flung himself over the foaming water onto the troubled ship, sliding down the raked deck towards the man. ‘Are you all right? Are you hurt?’ Jake heard him ask. The man nodded to his arm, indicating that it was broken. ‘Are you alone?’ A firm nod.

Jupitus clasped him around the waist and led him up the deck, calling out to Chatterju to throw him a rope. Jake noticed that the man was clutching a leather satchel under his good arm.

‘Who is that?’ Jake asked the commander.

For a moment she did not reply; just stared at him, perplexed. ‘It’s Isaksen,’ she replied in a worried tone. ‘Caspar Isaksen Senior – or Fredrik, as we know him.’

Jake’s eyes went wide. The name Isaksen sent a shiver down his spine. This was the head of the famous producers of atomium; the father of the double-dealing Caspar Junior – that’s why Jake had recognized his blond hair.

‘What’s he doing here?’ Galliana murmured. ‘In twenty years, he has not once left Sweden.’

Jupitus was using the rope to pull Isaksen towards the
Tulip
, when there was a splintering of wood. The yacht cracked in two and suddenly sank, almost dragging them down into the vortex with her. Jupitus held onto the rope as his top hat went swirling away, but Isaksen lost his footing. Jupitus reached out to save him, grabbing his broken arm and making the man howl in agony. Jupitus, sinews stretching to their limit, managed to hold onto the man’s coat, while Jake and Chatterju, hooking their feet onto the rigging, hauled the two of them up onto the deck. As the injured Swede was lifted over the rail, he dropped his leather satchel into the sea.

‘No!’ Isaksen bellowed. ‘Save it! You must save it.’ He looked like he was about to throw himself back into the water.

Jake acted on impulse, leaping onto the rail and diving into the roiling sea. First there was a shock of cold, then blindness. It was like being inside an avalanche, with debris smashing into him from all sides. But he knew where the sack was. He grabbed its strap and kicked back with all his might. Twice he was pulled down again, but finally he surfaced.

The others, shouting from the
Tulip
, threw a lifebelt. Jake caught hold of it and they yanked him up onto the deck.

He stood there shivering, and Galliana wrapped a blanket around him. ‘That was brave of you, young man,’ she whispered, her eyes glinting with pride. ‘It was worthy of the Djones name.’

Jake grinned: it had been worth it just to hear that. He handed her the leather satchel, and she turned to Isaksen, who was sitting on a trunk, while Dr Chatterju felt carefully along his arm to see where it was broken.

‘Good morning, Fredrik,’ she said. ‘I must admit, you were the last person I was expecting.’ Isaksen looked up at her and gave a little grunt. ‘You know Dr Chatterju, of course; and Jupitus.’

‘It’s – it’s been a while,’ Isaksen stammered hoarsely.

‘And the boy who saved your satchel,’ she said, pointing, ‘is Jake Djones.’

At the sound of the name, Isaksen’s head came up, and he studied the boy keenly, before offering a smile. ‘Good to meet you, Jake.’

‘Good to meet you too, sir,’ Jake answered back, intrigued by Isaksen’s reaction.

‘So what happened, Fredrik?’ Galliana asked.

‘I was mad, completely mad to make the journey on my own. It’s been decades since I’ve set sail and I’m rusty at the helm,’ he said. ‘I was in such a hurry to leave 1792, I didn’t chart my journey properly. I struck some rocks. It wasn’t until I was two leagues from the horizon point that the ship started listing and I realized that the hull had been ruptured. That’s when I sent out the mayday. Thank God you came.’

‘Why the terrible hurry?’ Galliana asked.

‘Because I found something late last night – something important – and I wanted to hand it over immediately. In person.’

Jake looked at the man. There was something in his tone that made his heart beat faster. Jupitus had turned the
Tulip
round to head back towards the coast, but he too was now listening closely.

‘What did you find?’ Galliana asked gravely.

‘Open it,’ Isaksen said, nodding towards his satchel.

She unbuckled it and withdrew a bound portfolio. It was old and cracked, and stuffed with odd pieces of paper. As Galliana turned to the first page – holding onto it tightly so it wouldn’t take off in the wind – Jake noticed Isaksen scrutinize him once again. The commander glanced over a few more sheets, then, without comment, put them back in the bag.

‘Thank you for bringing this,’ was all she said.

His examination complete, Dr Chatterju spoke. ‘Well, you’ve fractured your humerus, no doubt about it. We’ll have to deal with that later. In the meantime I’m going to pop your radius back in its socket. The sooner, the better. You might feel this.’ Without a moment’s hesitation, Chatterju took hold of the patient’s forearm and, pivoting it at the elbow, snapped it back into place, making Isaksen roar once again and thump his good hand against the trunk. ‘All done.’ Chatterju grinned, trying to make as little of it as possible. Isaksen panted, teeth clenched, until the pain receded.

Soon, the distinct conical shape of the Mont St Michel came into sight. Nathan, Yoyo, Rose and a few others, mostly still in their dressing gowns, were waiting on the pier. They got to their feet as the
Tulip
drew near, squinting up at the deck to see who was aboard. Rose recognized the newcomer first.

‘Good grief,’ she said. ‘Fredrik Isaksen. What on earth is he doing here?’

They watched as the group disembarked.

‘Thank you all for waiting,’ Galliana announced brusquely as she came ashore. ‘It’s late, and our new arrival needs attention. So quickly to bed now, everyone, please. In the morning I will make an announcement. All History Keepers are to convene in the stateroom at eight o’clock sharp.’ With that, she swept into the castle, the leather satchel still in her hand.

Jake was exhausted, and soon dropped off to sleep.

He woke just after dawn and dressed quickly, desperate to know why Isaksen had been in such a hurry to get to the Mont St Michel. With time to spare before the meeting, he took Felson for a brisk walk, popping into the stables to give Dora her breakfast of cabbage and apples.

On his way back, he found himself drawn to the History Keepers’ memorial stone, where agents who had perished in the course of duty were remembered. Set upon a plinth in the shadow of a willow tree, it was a statue of an hourglass, carved out of silvery black marble. Dozens of names were engraved on it, some of them quite recently. Jake sat there for a long time, lost in thought. All those lives . . . Thinking of his recent behaviour, he wondered if he was worthy of them. Rescuing the satchel had made him feel better about himself, but would he ever become as great as these History Keepers?