فصل 16

CHAPTER 16

A LIABILITY

GEORGE AND MOLLY QUICKLY found a good place to hide. Near the bow of the ship there was a dory turned upside down and lashed to the deck. George loosened one of the lines and lifted the edge; the two slipped underneath and retied the line. It was cramped and dark under the dory, but safe.

Trying to ignore their hunger, they fell asleep beneath the little upside-down boat, out of the wind, the salt spray, and the view of crewmen. In the morning, with the pink light of dawn showing through the gap where the boat met the deck, George was awakened by Molly’s hair tickling his nose. Forgetting where he was, he tried to sit, and bumped his forehead on the dory’s bench.

“Ow!”

The sound woke Molly, who blinked a few times, remembering where they were and how they’d gotten there.

“I’m starving,” whispered George, rubbing his head. “How long do we have to stay out of sight?”

“Long enough so they won’t turn the ship around and take us back. Two days at least.”

“Two days?”

“No one made you come along,” Molly reminded him.

“We’ll starve!”

“No, we won’t,” said Molly, though she was quite hungry herself. “We’ll find some food tonight.”

“Tonight? Are you saying we’re to go without food the entire day?”

“Apparently, I am.”

George groaned and lay back down. They spent an unhappy morning under the dory, saying little, listening to the sounds of the ship and the grumble of their stomachs. Molly grew quite thirsty and knew that George must be thirsty, too. She was grateful he didn’t complain.

The first suggestion of the storm was the dimming of light where the dory met the deck. The next sign was the rise and fall of the ship, which went from gentle rocking to a much more violent motion, the bow lifting high and then crashing loudly down into the sea. The dory rattled and shook, and Molly began to feel sick to her stomach. Things were not going as she’d planned.

She looked at George. By the dim light filtering under the dory, she saw that his face was as gray as driftwood.

“I need some air,” he whispered.

“Please don’t be sick,” she said.

“I need air now,” he said.

But it wasn’t air George got: it was water. There was a sudden, loud drumming sound on the dory hull, then rivulets of cold rainwater surged across the deck and under the dory, soaking Molly and George. With the rain came an even more violent motion of the ship’s deck, now rolling right and left as well as rocking up and down.

George made an ominous sound and clapped his hand over his mouth.

“George…” Molly warned.

“Sorry, I…” George turned away from Molly just as his unhappy stomach rebelled. Instantly an awful stench filled the upturned dory; Molly, now retching herself, frantically untied the line holding the dory down and lifted the boat off with her back. At once, she and George were blasted by torrents of wind-driven rain; they scrabbled along the heaving deck, looking for something to hold on to. George was still retching pitifully.

“Hey!” a deep voice boomed over the roar of the wind. “You there!”

Molly turned to see a burly seaman fighting his way forward. He grabbed the sliding dory and quickly secured it to the deck, then turned to the children.

“What’s this, now?” he boomed. “Stowaways, is it?”

“I’m the daughter of Lord Aster,” Molly shouted. “If you please, sir, I wish to be taken to him at once.”

“His lordship’s daughter, hiding under a dory?” said the seaman, smiling skeptically. “And who might this be?” he asked, pointing at the retching George. “A duke, perhaps?”

“He’s my friend,” said Molly. “Please, just take us to my father.”

“All right, then,” said the seaman, eyeing George’s clothes, which were covered with what had once been the contents of his stomach. “But first we need to make the duke more presentable.” He turned and walked astern, returning moments later with a bucket.

“Here, your lordship,” he said. As George, still on hands and knees, looked up, the seaman splashed him with a full bucket of cold seawater.

“That’s much better,” said the seaman, laughing as he reached out a hand to help the sputtering George to his feet. “Welcome aboard the Michelle, my lord and lady.”

Leonard Aster paced the captain’s quarters, walking back and forth in front of two chairs. In one sat Molly; in the other, George; both were wrapped in rough wool blankets.

Leonard’s face was grim and pale save for two red spots, one on each cheek. Those spots, Molly knew, meant her father was furious.

For more than a minute, Leonard strode back and forth, too angry even to speak. When he finally did, his voice quivered with rage.

“I cannot believe you would do this, Molly,” he said.

“But, Father…it’s Peter.”

“Silence.”

Molly’s mouth snapped shut.

“I am extremely disappointed in you, Molly. And George, you…”

“I talked him into it,” Molly said.

“No, she didn’t, sir,” said George, “I…”

“Silence, both of you.”

Molly and George sat still as stones as Leonard paced for a full minute more.

“You’ve created a very bad situation, Molly. If I take you to the island, I expose you and George to danger, not to mention the fact that your mother and George’s parents will be frantic with worry, not knowing your whereabouts. But if I order the ship turned around to return you to France, we lose precious time getting to the island. Precious to the Starcatchers. Precious to Peter.”

Molly started to speak, but her father’s look quelled that idea.

Leonard paced some more.

“Here is what I have decided,” he said finally. “We will proceed to the island. Peter’s well-being is paramount. We will try to get word to your mother through the porpoises; she can contact George’s parents. For the remainder of this voyage, you and George will remain on this ship, under close supervision. You will not go onto the island; you are a liability on this expedition. So you will remain on the ship, and when we return to England”—here Leonard stopped pacing and looked into Molly’s eyes—“there will be consequences. Do you both understand?”

“Yes, Father,” said Molly.

“Yes, Lord Aster,” said George.

“The crew are making up cabins for you both,” said Leonard. “You will go to them now and clean up as best you can. I will see you at dinner.” He turned his back, dismissing them.

The two children left. Although they hadn’t eaten for a day, neither was looking forward to dinner: George was still quite seasick, and Molly was not at all eager to face her father again. She’d been so sure that stowing away was a good idea—that her presence would, somehow, help Peter. Now it seemed that all she had done was muddle the rescue effort.

A liability, that’s what her father had called her.

Neither Molly nor George spoke as a crewman led them to their cabins. When she reached hers, Molly closed the door and looked around the tiny space, which had barely enough room for a chest and a bunk bed.

Molly sat on the bed, put her face in her hands, and wept.