فصل 56

CHAPTER 56

THE SECOND LAUNCH

LEANING AGAINST THE STACK of barrels, Tubby Ted sucked olive oil off his fingers, his eyes closed, his lips smacking.

“Mmmm,” he said, wishing he had a warm piece of bread.

Then, hearing shouts, he jumped to his feet. A dozen men were running down the hill toward the dry-docked ship. Under a sky alight with streaking meteors, Ted saw the angry looks on their faces. Very angry. Some of them were waving knives in the air.

Ted looked down at the ship and saw his mates scattering in opposite directions; George held the white handkerchief in his hand, his arms pumping furiously as he ran.

Ted wondered: Did I miss something?

He couldn’t exactly describe George’s motion as waving the handkerchief over his head, but he decided it was close enough. He turned and, as George had told him to, kicked at the bottom barrel. It was stubborn, but it dislodged from the stack and rolled down the hill. He jumped back as the entire barrel stack collapsed in an olive-oil avalanche. A half dozen barrels exploded as they struck the ground, sending a wave of slippery oil gushing down the hill, followed by more barrels, rolling and bouncing and spewing their contents as they split open.

Tubby Ted, staying clear of the olive-oil cascade, began lumbering down the hill toward the ship. Ahead, he caught sight of Thomas and Prentiss on either side of the dry dock trench, each struggling frantically with a big winch. As Ted ran toward the ship, the winches—first Thomas’s, then Prentiss’s—began to turn, paying out the heavy ropes. At once the whole ship began to shudder, groan, and creak. Behind Ted, the sound of the men’s shouting grew louder, more frantic. Thomas and Prentiss started clambering down into the trench, running for the ship.

“Wait!” Ted shouted, but neither boy heard. Reaching the ship, they grabbed on to the nets suspended from the decks and began to climb. There was a loud CRACK as one of the big side supports fell away. Then another. The groaning became deeper, turning into a rumbling noise, and now the ship was moving, rolling on the huge logs beneath the keel.

“Wait!” Ted yelled again, but nobody heard him over the sound of the sliding ship. He ran alongside the trench and spotted George at the big wooden gate behind the ship. He was struggling with a chain. The ship was moving toward him, rudder first, but George seemed unaware of the fact that he was about to be crushed.

Ted heard screams behind him. He turned and looked up the hill. The mob of angry men, their eyes on the escaping ship, had run right into the olive-oil cascade. They were tumbling and sliding down the hill, knocking each other over, their knives flying everywhere. Ted turned back and began running toward George, screaming unheard warnings about the oncoming ship.

George struggled with the chain that held the gate to the piling. It was too heavy, made of massive links that George could barely lift, let alone raise over the top of the piling to release the gate. He glanced behind him and saw with a mixture of elation and alarm that the ship was moving, its stern rising high above him, its huge rudder pointing right at him. To the side, he saw men tumbling down the hillside, shouting in confusion and fury. At least that part of his plan had worked. But what about the chain? If he couldn’t release it, the huge links would stop the ship. And if he stayed where he was much longer, the ship would squash him like a bug.

George turned back to study the massive chain. He saw that one of the links was held to the next by an iron bolt. He twisted it with all his strength, and to his relief it began to unscrew. He turned the bolt as fast as he could; it unscrewed and unscrewed, but did not come free. The ship was gaining momentum now; the side struts were splintering and snapping and falling away. The rollers made a deafening grinding sound.

Several of the men had made it down the hillside. One of them saw George at the gate and shouted; he and the others began running toward George. The ship was only a few yards away. George gave the bolt a few more frantic twists. Finally, it came free, clanking on the rocks underfoot. The chain fell away. Water leaked in around the edge of the gate. The ship was rushing toward him, the enormous rudder coming at him like a blade.

The shouting men reached the gate.

George dove. He landed just to the side of the ship’s hull. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed hold of a rope dangling from the deck, and started to climb it. One of the men leaned out over the trench, knife in hand, and slashed at George. George, unable to get away, closed his eyes, waiting for the pain of the blade.

Instead, the rope jerked him violently backward as the last supports snapped and the ship suddenly picked up speed. He clung desperately to the rope as the ship smashed into the gate, which splintered into hundreds of pieces. A wall of water roared into the trench, nearly taking George with it; he hung on to the rope, sputtering, and struggled to haul himself onto the deck. Behind him, the man who’d tried to stab him screamed as he fell into the trench, now a deadly boiling cauldron, as the surging seawater tossed huge timbers around.

The ship plunged into the sea stern first and slowed with a shuddering jerk. George, reaching the deck, saw that Prentiss and Thomas had managed to scramble aboard. He looked back to see Tubby Ted standing on the side of the trench where the gate had been, looking uncertain. The ship’s bow was just passing him.

“Ted!” screamed George, running toward him on the deck. “Jump!”

For once, Ted—normally not one to act quickly—did as he was told, leaping toward the ship and just catching the last of the nets. As Prentiss helped Ted up onto the deck, George raced to the stern and grabbed the ship’s wheel. He looked up the mainmast at James, who was just then releasing the last of the ties. The mainsail fell away, ruffling in the wind. George heaved on the ship’s wheel, turning it hard, trying to angle the ship so the sail would fill with wind. But the ship was losing momentum; it didn’t answer to the rudder.

“Come on,” said George, glancing toward the furious men on the shore, then back up at the sails. “Come on.”

The sail flapped and snapped, and caught some wind. George held the wheel all the way to starboard. The ship began to turn, but agonizingly slowly.

James shouted something from the mast and pointed toward shore. George looked in that direction and saw a small rowboat in the water with five figures heaving hard on the oars. It was headed straight for the ship. At first George thought it was the men who’d been chasing them, but as the dory drew closer he saw, to his shock, that they were boys—the same slave boys he’d seen in the desert with King Zarboff.

James recognized them as well. “Slightly!” he yelled, quickly climbing down from the mast.

The rowboat reached the ship; the five boys struggled up the netting and onto the deck. Three of them—Slightly, Curly, and Nibs—were wearing golden suits; the other two—the twins—wore their servant garb.

“Where’s Peter?” said James.

“He’s back at the rocket,” said Slightly. “He told us to run here while Zarboff and the rest were distracted by the rocket launch.”

“And Molly?” said George.

“Didn’t see her,” said Slightly. “Peter just said to come here and—”

He was interrupted by a shout from Thomas, who was pointing toward shore. The angry mob, having seen the slave boys row to the ship, had decided to do the same: they had run to a dock where some rowboats were tied, and were in the process of launching three of them.

George looked up at the luffing mainsail, willing it to fill with wind. The ship was moving, but pitifully slowly.

“Untie the nets and ropes!” he shouted. “We want nothing over the sides for them to grab on to!” But he doubted they’d have time to untie a single net; the first rowboat was already launched and making good time. It was rowing straight for the ship; and its occupants did not look at all friendly.

George glanced around in desperation for a weapon, something—anything—with which to defend the ship. He saw nothing. Hopelessness filled his heart.

Had he looked toward the city, he would have seen, amid the myriad streaks in the sky, one light of a different color: the fiery tail flame of the rocket, now rising over the palace wall.