بخش 13

CHAPTER 60

TOO QUICK FOR A CLOUD; TOO BIG FOR A BIRD

BARELY RIPPLING THE SURFACE, the trunk glided toward the waterfall at the mouth of the lagoon. The brackish water grew clear, so that from above, long, powerful green tails could be seen propelling the trunk as the mermaids triumphantly bore their prize back to their lair.

Feeling safe now, they raised their heads from the water. The one in the lead—the others called her, in their strange, throaty language, Teacher—turned and smiled at her school. Her long, thick hair was blond. Her teeth, white and even, were human now, exposure to the trunk having completed her transformation from fish to mermaid. The other mermaids smiled back at her. Human teeth, all.

So elated were they by their triumph, so absorbed with their prize—their creator—that only one of them, a young mermaid in the back of the school, happened to see the thing that flew across the face of the moon, too quick for a cloud, too big for a bird. She grunted an alarm and slapped her tail twice on the water surface.

The other mermaids responded instantly, diving in fright. All but Teacher, who would not leave the creator. She wrapped her arms around the trunk defiantly, and looked up at the blackened silhouette swooping toward her.

She recognized it at once, and snarled.

“Lean forward!” shouted Slank from the bow of the flying longboat. He was still getting the feel of it, his ability to steer shaky and imprecise. In the bright moonlight he could clearly see his target below, as well as the blond-haired she-fish hissing up at him. At the stern, Little Richard, gripping both sides in terror, shifted his weight slightly forward as the longboat dove. Slank leaned to port, lining up the bow with his target. “Steady…Steady…” The boat hurtled downward. The mermaid did not move.

She’s brave, I’ll give her that….

As the boat was about to hit the water, Slank leaned back. The bow lifted slightly, avoiding a direct collision with the trunk, but striking the defiant mermaid. Slank felt the thud in his feet.

That’s one less to worry about. The longboat splashed down into the lagoon, its sharp bow sending up waves on each side. Slank and Little Richard tumbled to the bottom of the boat, which rocked violently for a moment, but did not capsize.

“The trunk!” Slank shouted, struggling to his feet.

“There!” said Little Richard, pointing.

The trunk bobbed in the water astern. Slank thought about diving in after it, but quickly changed his mind.

She-fish.

There were a dozen or more of them, between the boat and the trunk, diving and surfacing frantically, apparently searching for something. It took Slank a moment, but then he understood: They’re looking for the one I hit.

Whirling, Slank lunged to the bow and looked into the water.

There she is.

Her body was wedged under the prow, floating motionless. Slank grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the boat. Her face was covered with blood. She was breathing, but barely.

Suddenly there was a wail from the water, and then more. The mermaids had caught sight of their wounded sister, and were surrounding the boat, snarling.

“Throw her back!” shouted Little Richard. “They’ll capsize us again!”

“No!” shouted Slank, drawing his knife. “She’s our barter!” He grabbed the unconscious mermaid and hauled her upright, holding the knife at her neck. The mermaids wailed and keened in horror.

“LISTEN!” shouted Slank. “I give her to you”—he made a gesture of throwing her over the side—“and you give me that”—he pointed at the trunk. “You understand?”

The mermaids showed no sign of comprehending. Instead, responding to some signal neither man heard or saw, the mermaids flashed their tails and disappeared, leaving only ripples.

Five seconds passed. Ten.

“I don’t like this,” said Little Richard.

“Get your whip,” said Slank, dropping the unconscious mermaid at the bow.

Little Richard uncoiled the bullwhip he kept wrapped around his waist.

“Here they come,” he said.

The two men crouched, watching the water. Suddenly, the dark shifting shapes shot up at them through the moonlit water.

“Here they come!” Slank said.

In a flash of tails, the mermaids slammed the boat, rocking it violently. Slank stabbed blindly down into the water. Little Richard’s whip cracked once, twice, but he, too, was having trouble drawing a bead on the swiftly moving creatures. The boat rocked again; again Slank stabbed at the water, this time driving several of the creatures back.

But only for a moment. The mermaids came at them again, then again. Slank and Little Richard lunged frantically back and forth in the boat, grunting, shouting, trying to keep them at bay, trying to keep the wildly gyrating boat from going over. From time to time the knife cut, or the whip connected, each time drawing a scream. The water around the longboat grew cloudy with blood. But the mermaids kept coming, coming, frothing the water around the unsteady longboat.

“THERE!” Slank shouted, pointing, as the mermaids, working together, massed for an attack at the stern, their goal being to pull the transom underwater with their weight. A lash from Little Richard’s whip drove them off, sent the bow splashing down, and caused Slank to fall. Rising, he looked behind him to see that the wounded mermaid was…

Gone.

She had either slipped or fallen back into the water. The other mermaids, still battling Little Richard at the stern, apparently had not noticed. Slank searched the blood-clouded water around the bow but saw no sign of her.

Meanwhile, as Slank peered into the water at the bow, and Little Richard battled the mermaids at the stern, the trunk, momentarily forgotten by all of them, drifted farther and farther from the longboat, into the night. CHAPTER 61

CRENSHAW RETURNS

BLACK STACHE HELD UP A HAND, silently stopping Smee and the others, and signaled them off the jungle path. Stache, too, stepped aside, concealing himself amid the enormous leaves of a plant.

The sounds of someone running drew closer. A native? Stache crouched and laid his sword across the path. When the runner was upon him, Stache lifted the sword a few inches, and the runner, with a cry of pain, sprawled face-first onto the ground.

“Crenshaw,” said Stache, stepping out.

“Cap’n!” said Crenshaw, out of breath. He hurried painfully to his feet.

“Well, man,” said Stache. “What is it?”

Crenshaw attempted to answer. “I seen—”

“—that lizard?” said Smee, interrupting.

“Shut up, Smee,” said Stache. “Crenshaw?”

“The longboat, Cap’n,” said Crenshaw, still gasping for breath.

“The longboat?” said Stache, bewildered. “Our longboat?” By his recollection, it should have been well down the island.

“Yes, sir. I seen it just now.”

“Where?”

“It was…flying, Cap’n.”

“It was what?”

“Flying, Cap’n. Up in the air. Like a bird. But it weren’t no bird. It was the longboat, sure as I’m standing here.”

The other pirates gathered around now, muttering about this strange and unlucky island, where things kept flying that were not supposed to fly.

“Belay that talk!” said Stache. “Crenshaw, where did you see this flying longboat?”

“Up this path, where you sent me. It leads to a beach…a lagoon, sir. I’d just gotten there when I sees the longboat pass right in front of the moon, plain as anything. And there was men in it.”

More muttering from the crew.

“I SAID BELAY IT!” said Stache. To Crenshaw, he said: “How many men? What men?”

“Two, I reckon. One of ’em big as fright, he was. Right across the moon, they flied. Fast as a bird, they was. But it weren’t no bird. It was a flying…”

“Yes, yes, a longboat,” said Stache, eyeing Crenshaw curiously. “And where exactly did this longboat go?”

“Can’t says for certain, Cap’n. There was trees and such in me way. It went from this ways to that,” he said, indicating right to left. “Went past the moon and headed down.”

“Down?”

“Yes, Cap’n. Down. I reckon toward the water.”

“What about the trunk? The treasure?”

“Didn’t see nothing of the sort. Just the flying longboat. She went past and I turned high tail to run back to tell you, and then you tripped me up, and then you asked me what I seen, and then I…”

“I KNOW THIS PART, YOU IDJIT!”

“Yes, sir.”

Stache reviewed the situation. The trunk could not be far off, that was for certain. When things started flying that should not be flying, the trunk had to be near. But who were these two men, and what were they doing in his longboat?

“All right, men,” said Stache. “We double-time down to this lagoon. Crenshaw, you lead the way, and show us where you seen this flying longboat. MOVE!”

Trotting with a pronounced limp, Crenshaw headed back down the path, followed by Stache, and, somewhat more reluctantly, Smee and the others. In a few minutes the path widened. Patches of low fog shone in the moonlight, like tiny puffs of gray cotton. Crenshaw had left out mention of the swirling fog.

Stache smelled the lagoon before he saw it: like a fresh rainfall. From far to his left came the trickling sound of water—a stream, and waterfall that fed the lagoon. Then, above the sounds of the water, he heard distinctly human sounds—grunting, shouting, splashing, the crack of a whip—familiar sounds to a pirate: fighting.

The path led to a small sand dune. Stache stopped his men short. By the sound of it, the fight was raging in the water just on the other side. No reason to join a fight until you know what side you’re on.

Another crack of the whip. Then, a scream: a woman’s scream.

His men stopped, all eyes on Stache.

“Here’s what we do,” he whispered. “Whoever’s out there, we let them kill each other off. When they’re done and the fighting stops, we’ll take care of whoever’s left. Get your weapons ready.” He was thinking: flying boats and fighting…the treasure’s at the heart of this.

Then, drawing his sword, Stache began to creep up the side of the dune. CHAPTER 62

PETER’S DECISION

PETER’S HANDS WERE BLEEDING, sliced time and again by the jagged lava as he fought his way up the hillside. As he neared the top, the slope became very steep, almost vertical, causing Peter to question the wisdom of his plan. He periodically glanced back down along the hillside, but could no longer see Molly or the others; he wondered if he’d be able to find them again.

Finally he reached the top, and saw immediately that his suspicion had been correct: the hill was in fact a narrow neck, separating the cove from a wide, curved lagoon. The slope on the other side of the hill was as steep as the one he had ascended, leading down to another beach. He swept his gaze along it, starting on the far right, seeing nothing of interest until some huge rock formations in the center of the lagoon curve, near the beach. He focused on these, his eyes straining to pick up details in the moonlight.

After a moment, he saw it: a slim, dark shape on the silver water.

A boat.

Peter squinted. There were people in the boat; there was commotion around it. Pirates, he was sure of it. Who else could it be?

And they’ve got the trunk, I wager.

Peter considered the situation. He was certain that Ammm, forced to take the water route, was leading Molly around the point to this boat. He decided it made no sense for him to go back down the way he had come, over the rough lava, and try to catch up with Molly. Obviously, he should proceed down to this new beach and wait for the others there.

So he descended, finding the going-down much quicker than the climbing-up had been. He stood on the beach for five long minutes, then five more, then five more, peering down the beach to his right, waiting impatiently for Molly and the others to come into view, remembering how slow their progress had been when he’d left them.

Finally his impatience got the better of him.

I’ll just go down and have a look, he thought.

And so he set off, keeping out of the moonlight, staying under the tall palms that edged the beach, trotting toward the big rocks, and the longboat. CHAPTER 63

GONE AGAIN

FOUR DISTINCT Vs APPEARED in the moonlit water, all aimed at the port side of the longboat.

“Broadsides!” Slank called out. Too late.

The mermaids timed their strike perfectly, lifting the port side high just as Little Richard was leaning the wrong way. He fell, flailing, and his massive weight flipped the boat, catapulting Slank into the air, and then into the lagoon.

Slank bobbed to the surface, frantically stabbing into the water and thrashing with his legs, expecting at any second to feel mermaid teeth sink into his flesh. Instead, he felt…

He felt the bottom. During the fight, the boat had drifted within ten yards of shore; Slank could stand easily.

Little Richard was also standing, peering nervously at the water, whip at the ready. “Where’d they go?” he asked.

Slank looked around, seeing no sign of tails or splashes, only the now-gentle lagoon surface, mirroring the moon. Then it hit him.

“Where’s the trunk?” he said.

The two men spun in circles. Gone. Again.

Slank spat a curse at the sky, then took a deep breath.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s get the boat ashore.”

They grabbed the swamped longboat, walked it to the beach, dumped the water out and hauled the boat onto the sand.

“I don’t get it,” panted Little Richard, when they were done. “They was after us like banshees, then they was gone!”

Slank had been thinking about that.

“They was trying to rescue the one I had in the boat,” he said. “That’s why they capsized us. But then they saw she wasn’t there, and went looking for her. It’s the only explanation.”

“But where’d she go?” Little Richard asked.

“I don’t care where she went,” Slank said. “What I care about is the trunk, and I’m thinking if we didn’t see it drift off, them she-devils didn’t see it neither.”

Slank was studying the lagoon intently now, hands on hips. To the left, fresh water poured in over the waterfall and swirled in a deep pool by the island of rocks. Watching the movement of the foam, Slank detected a slight current, moving to the right, down the curve of the beach.

“Come on!” he said, setting off at a trot. “Where are we going now?” said Little Richard, none too happy, lumbering behind.

“If the trunk comes ashore,” said Slank, “it’ll be this way.” CHAPTER 64

“HE SURELY WILL”

KEEPING TO THE MOON-CAST SHADOWS beneath the palms, Peter trotted along the beach toward the longboat. As he drew closer, he heard angry shouts, and a cracking sound, as well as other—stranger—noises; and saw figures in and around the boat in frenzied activity, apparently fighting.

Who would the pirates be fighting?

He stopped and looked back toward the rocky point. There was still no sign of Ammm, or Molly.

It’s taking them forever.

Peter hesitated. On the one hand, he was reluctant to get too close to the battle ahead, and risk capture; on the other hand, he was very curious to know who was fighting the pirates, and where the trunk was. He decided he could risk getting a little closer.

He had walked no more than twenty feet when he heard it: a moan, coming from his right, at the water’s edge. He stopped, and heard it again, louder this time. He glanced ahead at the shouting figures, then, keeping his head low, darted down the beach to the water.

He saw her immediately: a girl lying facedown in the shallow water, her long blond hair splayed forward, touching the sand. She appeared to be struggling to crawl onto the beach. Her arms moved feebly, her hands clawing at the wet sand.

Peter ran to the girl, dropping to his knees into the water. He took her by the shoulders and turned her over, and immediately noticed several things. The first was that she was startlingly beautiful, with astonishingly large, luminescent green eyes. The second was that she did not appear to be wearing any clothes, her only covering coming from her lush cascade of hair.

Ordinarily this second thing would have gotten Peter’s full attention, but he was much distracted by the third thing, which was blood seeping from a deep gash in her forehead.

Supporting the girl’s head in his hands, Peter looked frantically around for something to put over the wound.

My shirt, he thought.

He decided to pull the girl farther up on the sand, so he could rest her head on the beach while he removed his shirt. Getting his hand under her arms, he heaved backward. That was when Peter noticed a fourth, even more startling thing.

She had a tail.

“Aaah!” said Peter, jumping up, dropping her head. The girl, or fish, or whatever she was, moaned piteously, and writhed in pain. Peter stood over her, water dripping from his body.

“Wh…who are you?” he said.

The mermaid did not answer, but blinked and looked at Peter, as if seeing him for the first time.

Those eyes!

She drew a sharp breath, her expression suddenly fearful.

“It’s okay,” said Peter, softly, kneeling again. “I won’t hurt you.”

The mermaid’s expression remained wary, but her large eyes closed again. Peter saw she was weakening rapidly as her blood, dark in the moonlight, continued to ooze onto the sand.

“I’m going to put a bandage on you,” Peter said, untucking his shirt. “You’ll be fine.”

But she didn’t seem to hear him; her head had slumped sideways now, and the life seemed to be slowly draining from her face. Peter felt certain it was too late for a bandage to do much good, but, not knowing what else to do, he began to pull his shirt over his head, only to get it tangled in…

The locket.

Peter slipped it off his neck and looked at it. He’d meant to give it back to Molly, but then Ammm had appeared, and in the excitement he’d forgotten. He had no idea how much, if any, starstuff was left in it. If there was any, it likely wasn’t much.

Should I save it? I might need it, against the pirates. Molly might need it….

The mermaid moaned again, a weak sound. A dying sound. Peter looked at her face, then at the locket, then down the still-empty beach toward the rocky point.

“I’m sorry, Molly.” He whispered the apology and then snapped open the locket.

Immediately a sphere of golden light blinded him; first his hands, then the rest of his body, experienced the now-familiar warmth and feeling of well-being. Peter wanted to luxuriate in that feeling, but forced himself to invert the locket and pour its contents onto the mermaid’s wounded forehead. The warmth quickly drained out of him. The glow spread over the girl’s body, then disappeared, like water absorbed by a sponge.

It’s working…. In a moment, the glow was gone.

Peter picked up the locket; it still hung open, but was now just lifeless metal. He snapped it shut, and put it back around his neck. He found himself aware of the silence; the splashing and shouting from down the beach had stopped. He started to rise to have a look, when he felt a hand grip his forearm.

Startled, he whirled and saw that the mermaid was sitting up, her eyes open and focused on Peter. Her wound was gone.

“Are you…all right?” Peter asked.

The girl said nothing, but reached her hand out and gently traced her fingers along the side of Peter’s face. He blushed. She smiled, a stunningly beautiful smile.

As they stared at each other, Peter heard a splash a few yards offshore and, looking up, saw not one…but two…no three more mermaids. Waist high in the shallow water, they hissed at him and dragged themselves forward. Peter tried to scramble away, but the blond mermaid made an odd, deep-throated sound, and they stopped their advance. An exchange of strange sounds followed. The three other mermaids smiled at Peter, who blushed even more.

This pleasant scene was interrupted by the sudden surfacing of yet another mermaid, who, with barely a glance at Peter, emitted a rapid series of throaty sounds that clearly excited and alarmed the three others. They whirled and, with a flash of their green tails, were gone, underwater. The mermaid whom Peter had rescued hesitated only a moment longer, giving Peter’s arm one final squeeze. She offered another radiant smile, slid gracefully forward into the water, and then she, too, was gone.

Seconds later, the whole group of mermaids surfaced twenty yards to Peter’s left, making sounds, gesticulating excitedly to one another. Peter stood on his tiptoes but couldn’t see. He ran up the beach, and looked back. The mermaids were trying to work their way through the shallows to a dark form lying, wave-lapped, at the water’s edge.

Peter blinked, not believing his luck.

The trunk. Unguarded.

Racing through the shallow water, he reached it in seconds. There was no question; even in the brilliant moonlight, he could see the glow through the cracks; the moment his hand touched the rough wood, he felt the familiar warmth.

His attention was drawn away by urgent sounds out in the lagoon. The mermaids, struggling frantically to make their way to him, were waving their arms, and flopping their now-useless tails through the shallow water. The blond mermaid he’d saved was in front. Her eyes met his as she made a series of urgent, but incomprehensible sounds, clearly trying to tell him something.

“What is it?” called Peter. “WhUNNNH.”

The clublike wooden handle of Little Richard’s whip, two feet of two-inch-diameter oak, slammed into Peter’s skull from behind. Peter instantly crumpled to the shallow water, unable to break his fall, and lay facedown, motionless. The mermaids, hissing, lunged forward with teeth bared, but were at a hopeless disadvantage in the shallow water, and scurried back as the whip cracked out at them.

“Forget them,” said Slank. “They can’t reach us here. Get the trunk. We’re going back to the longboat.”

“But if we’re in the boat, those things’ll swamp us again,” said Little Richard, gesturing at mermaids.

“Not this time,” said Slank. “With what’s in the trunk, we can leave the way we come in, flying over them she-devils.”

He laughed at the mermaids, who were highly agitated; he noticed that one of them, the blond one, was, despite the risk of the whip, crawling toward Peter, who had not moved.

“Oh, you fancy this lad, do you?” he asked. “You’re welcome to him.” With his right foot, he gave Peter’s motionless form, still facedown, a shove toward the deeper water.

“Get the trunk,” said Slank to Little Richard, “and let’s get off this miserable island.”

Little Richard hoisted the trunk to his shoulder, then glanced down at Peter. “Shouldn’t we turn the boy over?” he called to Slank. “If we leave him like that, he’ll surely drown.”

“Oh, yes,” said Slank, not looking back. “He surely will.”