فصل 25

CHAPTER 25

LIFELINE

THE ORNITHOPTER’S MOTOR was coughing more often now. Sometimes it belched three or four times, the big feather wings jerking in hesitation, before finally the engine roared back to life.

Each time this happened, Wendy worried the engine might not come back. Her mood was not helped by her discomfort. Her legs ached from standing on the tiny platform; her hands ached from gripping the ornithopter control levers. She was thoroughly cold now, shivering almost constantly in the chilly, damp ocean air. She had managed to eat some bread and cheese, but when she’d tried to drink some water, the bottle had slipped from her aching hand and fallen into the sea far below.

Again and again she peered ahead, blinking into the rushing wind, searching the horizon for the dark shape of land. Again and again she saw only the dark green sea, stretching away. Her only reassurance came from the sight of the porpoises. Thank goodness: there was always one below, and always another waiting for her ahead.

The day was cloudy, so most of the time she could not tell the location of the sun, nor her direction of travel. From what glimpses of the sun she did manage, she figured that the porpoises were now leading her southwest. Uncle Neville had guessed that the motor had three or four hours’ worth of fuel. Wendy didn’t know exactly how long she’d been aloft, but she was quite sure it was already longer than four hours. She glanced constantly at the fuel tank, each time patting the locket around her neck.

The engine coughed again, this time longer than ever, and when it started up again the roar was more of a sputter. Then more coughing. The wings hesitated and jerked. The ornithopter, though still flapping, was starting to descend.

This is it, thought Wendy.

She leaned forward and grabbed the filler cap on the top of the fuel tank. She gave it a counterclockwise twist. The cap did not budge.

The engine coughed again, and again, and this time it kept coughing. The ornithopter, its wings beating very slowly now, began descending at a steeper angle.

Fighting panic, Wendy gripped the cap and twisted it as hard as she could. Still it did not budge. She let go of the control lever and put both hands on the filler cap. The engine’s sputter was more silence than combustion now. Out of the corners of her eyes Wendy saw the dark sea below drawing closer and closer. She gritted her teeth and with a desperate grunt yanked at the cap. This time it gave.

The engine stopped, belched, and then sputtered again ever more weakly. Wendy could hear the waves below. She spun the cap off and tucked it into the pocket of her coat. She braced herself against the ornithopter frame. With cold-stiffened fingers, she reached behind her and fumbled with the clasp of her locket. The wave tops were near. From somewhere below came the urgent chitter of a porpoise: Up! Up!

The engine wheezed and shuddered violently, clearly about to die. With a jerk, Wendy pulled the locket from her neck, breaking the chain. She leaned forward, holding the locket toward the fuel tank’s opening. With her thumb, she flicked the locket open.

Instantly the air was filled with light, and Wendy was no longer cold, or scared, or anything bad at all. In fact, despite her desperate predicament, she felt wonderful. The source of this feeling was a radiant golden sphere of light that now enveloped the locket and her hand, from there infusing her whole body with a sense of calm and well-being. And that melodious sound…Was that bells?

Up! Up!

The urgent warning brought her back to the moment. She saw the porpoise now, directly below her, only yards away. The sputtering ornithopter was in free fall, its wings barely moving. Forcing herself to concentrate, Wendy tilted the locket over the fuel tank. A thin stream of golden light poured into the hole. A second later, the sputtering engine came to life. But this time, instead of the clackety roar she had been listening to for hours, it emitted a smooth, almost pleasant, hum.

Up! Up! Up!

Wendy snapped the locket closed with one hand and pulled the altitude lever with the other. The ornithopter responded instantly, swooping upward as its big wings beat in powerful whooshes. As it rose, Wendy carefully pushed the locket down into her coat pocket. She retrieved the fuel cap and tightened it over the tank opening. The ornithopter, its motor humming happily, continued rising swiftly and easily, flying far faster now than it had before. Soon Wendy was again soaring high above the limitless sea. Below and well behind her was the porpoise that had warned her to stay up. She waved; the porpoise leaped high in response, then was gone. Wendy looked ahead and found her next guide, waiting patiently.

She allowed herself a tiny smile. As she’d hoped, the starstuff had held her aloft. And she felt fantastic; the warmth still filled her; a vibrant energy had replaced her exhaustion.

But it would not last. She could already feel the effects of the starstuff diminishing. In time she would have to pour more into the fuel tank. How soon would that be? How much starstuff was left in the locket? How far away was the island? And what would she do when night fell? How would she see her porpoise guides? Assuming that she made it to nightfall …

As each new question popped into Wendy’s mind, her confidence diminished. She put her hand into her pocket and gripped the locket, feeling its reassuring warmth. Her eyes went back to the horizon, searching for a hint, a promise of land. She saw nothing.

She tightened her grip on the locket, her lifeline, her only hope.