Oona’s heart began to race. If all the etchings around the nardoo were real, then surely the last one was too. Not only that, the Gandering Gull itself was proof that something existed in the Northern Sea that wasn’t normal. That wasn’t natural. That’s what the man standing near her had said when it first washed ashore. Whatever destroyed this ship had not been seen by any man before.
Oona walked over to one of the holes in the hull and looked up towards the sky. Tonight, she wasn’t looking at the stars or the moon. She was looking past them, far off to the distant North. She wanted to see a hint, a glint, of rainbow in the sky. But from here in Nordlor the heavens looked black.
Oona realized that she would never see a nardoo in Nordlor. And there was no chance of seeing one in the South: the waters were too warm down there. There was only one way to see a nardoo for herself. She would have to sail north and find one.
A bigger warning not to go – a broken, sunken and lost ship – she could not find. Yet despite her fear of the dangers in the North, she was far more fearful of going south.
Oona stared up at the lonely moon. She knew what she had to do. Forget feeling the North in the tips of her toes. She was going to feel it all around. She wasn’t going south, no matter what anyone said. She was going to go north, just like she’d always dreamed.
It was a big decision: four whole months at sea. It would be dangerous and wet. It would be cold and windy. And maybe she would fall overboard and drown. But it would, without a doubt, be an adventure, and she had always wanted to go on one of those.
THE STOWAWAY
That night, while her sisters packed for their trip south, Oona secretly packed for her own trip north. Silk dresses were replaced with thick coats, while lace shoes were cast aside in favour of fur lined boots. Oona crammed as much as she could into her bag, including her only two books. Then, when everything was ready, she hid her bag beneath her bed and waited for everyone to fall asleep. The Plucky Leopard sailed at dawn and she would have to sneak on board long before that.
*
All was still and silent at 31, Whalebone Lane when Oona Britt climbed out of bed, picked up her bag and headed for the stairs. She was almost at the back door when she heard footsteps behind her.
Oona turned around to see Trine standing in the shadows. The moonlight trickling in through a window made her skin look paler than normal.
“What are you doing here?” Oona whispered.
“I heard you on the stairs,” Trine whispered back. She nodded towards Oona’s bag and said, “Are you putting your things in the carriage?”
“Yes,” Oona lied. “I don’t want to run out of space.” She was about to turn towards the back door when Trine saw the edge of a coat sticking out of her bag. Oona had packed so many things inside that she hadn’t been able to close it. Beside the coat was the sole of a thick northern boot.
“Where are your lace shoes?” Trine said.
“Under my coat,” Oona lied again. “I thought I should take some warm things in case it gets cold.”
Trine looked between the bag and her younger sister. “I don’t believe you,” she said. “You’re not coming in the carriage, are you? You’re running away.”
Oona was about to lie for a third time, but she didn’t know what to say. All of her family knew she didn’t want to go south, so it would make no sense for her to put her things in the carriage early.
“You’re right,” Oona said. “I’m not going south. I’m going north, with Father.”
Trine’s eyes grew wide with shock. “Father’s letting you go on the Plucky Leopard?”
“Well, not exactly,” Oona said. “He won’t know I’m on there at the start, but when he finally sees me we’ll be so far north he’ll have to let me stay.” As she watched her older sister process this, Oona had an idea. “Would you like to come too?”
For a moment, Trine looked like she was considering the offer. But then she shook her head. “I couldn’t. I’d be too scared. I’m not as brave as you. And I can’t swim either. What if I fell into the sea?”
“I’d save you,” Oona said. “And I could teach you how to swim as well. It’s not too hard, once you get the hang of it. I could even teach you how to tie sea knots. I learnt about them at school. The reef knot is my favourite. You use it for furling sails. And we could take turns keeping watch from the crow’s nest. I’m very good at seeing things from far away. When Father’s ship returns each year from the Hunt, I see it coming down the river almost an hour before everyone else.”
Instead of reassuring Trine, this made her feel even more certain she was making the right choice by going south instead of north. She didn’t know the first thing about sea knots and she had no idea what “furling” meant. Her eyesight wasn’t too great either. While Oona was a true northern girl, Trine didn’t think she was.
“I’m sorry,” she said to her little sister. “But I can’t go with you.”
“That’s OK,” Oona said. Though, secretly she was disappointed. It would have been nice to have someone to go on the adventure with her.
“I’ll miss you,” Trine said.
“Really?” Oona asked.
“Of course. You’re not like our other sisters. I think you’re much nicer and cleverer too.”
This time it was Oona’s turn to look shocked. She wanted to ask Trine why she had waited so long to tell her this. But instead she said, “I’ll miss you too.”
Trine stepped closer to her younger sister and embraced her in a hug. It was the first time someone in her family had hugged Oona: the first time anyone had hugged her. It felt different, but nice. She hugged her sister back.
They stepped away from each other and Oona carefully opened the back door. She was about to step out into the night when she thought of something.
“Trine?” she said, turning back to her sister. “Did you give me Gillbert as a birthday present?”
Trine frowned and said, “No. I thought you made him.”
“Oh. Never mind.” Oona waved a final goodbye to her sister and slipped out into the night.
The air in Nordlor was so cold that the sea cobbles had frozen over and the waves trapped inside were still. Even the stars in the sky looked frozen and did not twinkle as Oona walked beneath them.
At first the village was quiet, but as Oona neared the dock, yelling and singing drifted across the frosty air. Oona feared her father’s men were already on the ship and her chance to sneak on board was lost. But then she saw the glow of lamplight inside the Rusted Anchor and realized the crew were having one final night of drinks.
The Plucky Leopard bobbed quietly beside the dock. Its name shone in gold across the starboard side. Lanterns flickered within the ship, but no sounds leaked out from the portholes. Oona stared up at the great whaler, took a deep breath and, for the first time in her life, stepped on to her father’s ship.
Even though Oona had watched the Plucky Leopard from Nordlor’s shore for many years, the ship was a lot larger than she had imagined. The deck was longer than seven houses, the three masts that branched towards the stars were taller than every building in the village and the wooden rails were as high as her head.
Worried she might be seen, Oona climbed below deck. The ship looked just like the Gandering Gull, only an artist had sneaked on board and painted it back to life. Where there used to be darkness, light filled the rooms. Where there used to be black wood, polished brown now took its place. And where there used to be the smell of smoke and dank, mouldy cloth, now rose the smell of scented candles and fresh food, only just packed.
The first room Oona entered was long and thin and full of beds stacked against the walls. This was where the men slept. Behind her were two doors. A golden plaque on one door read Captain while a silver plaque on the other read Navigator. Oona knew what the roles meant. The captain ordered all the crew around and often owned the ship, while the navigator was skilled in reading maps and pointing the helmsman in the right direction.
; Oona tried to open both doors, but they were locked. As she moved towards the back of the ship, she passed the mess hall, the galley and five empty rooms used to store fish and the innards of a single whale. Then she reached the final room before the ship gave way to the sea.
“This is perfect,” Oona whispered as she stepped inside. The room was small and crammed with crates and sacks and bags full of food. No one would find her here, not for a long time yet. And she wouldn’t go hungry. That’s for sure.
Oona opened the nearest crate and peered inside. There was flour and sugar. Bilberry jam and salted elk. There was even her whole weight in cheese.
As she stared down at the food – there was enough to feed thirty men for six months – Oona smiled to herself. She couldn’t believe how easy this had been. No one had seen a thing.
Barnacles had been sitting on the bridge when he first spotted the girl boarding his ship. He had been preening his fur. Once it had been a fine ginger with the longest strands of any cat at sea. Now, after two hundred years on the water, his fur was growing patchy and bald, with more grey hairs than ginger.
Barnacles knew the girl wasn’t meant to be on board. He had checked the crew list only an hour before and there had been no females named. Besides, he didn’t need a list to know that. The captain never let any women on board. It was an unwritten rule that had never been broken.
But this girl wasn’t just any girl. He recognized her. She was one of the captain’s daughters: the pretty one that didn’t resemble a walrus. He had seen her countless times standing on land and peering up at the ship. A few times he’d even caught her peering up at him. But she hadn’t been peering at him tonight. Not when she first climbed on board. Not when he watched her from the steps as she tried to prise open the captain’s cabin. And not when he watched her snoop about in the storeroom. She was still there now, peering into the crates.
As Barnacles watched her exploring the food, the few hairs he still had stood on end. He did not care that the girl was a girl or that she was the captain’s daughter. He cared that she was a stowaway. And if there was one thing Barnacles hated almost as much as one of his ships sinking, it was passengers who weren’t on the crew list.
There were rules on a ship for a reason. If you didn’t follow them, disaster could strike. He had learned this the hard way. When a ship sails in the Northern Sea, a lookout must always be posted in the crow’s nest. This lookout changes every hour exactly on the hour. One night, on board the Crackling Kraken, a man named Einar missed the start of his shift by ten minutes. By the time he reached the deck the other lookout had fallen asleep, and by the time he reached the mast the ship had hit an iceberg.
Barnacles had lost his third life thanks to him. He’d lost his fifth life when another man on another of his ships – Erling the lazy cook – kept throwing fish guts into the hull instead of into the sea. Barnacles had meowed and hissed and jumped on the men, trying to point out the fish guts weighing them down. But no one listened. The ship slowly sank lower and lower into the sea until it couldn’t rise back out. Water flooded the deck and then the rooms below. Some of the men escaped on the whaleboats, but Barnacles had gone down with the ship.
No, Barnacles thought to himself as he stared at the girl who had already broken three rules: no women on the ship, no stowaways, and no one allowed in the storeroom except for the cook. This would not do.
*
While all the other members of the crew had final drinks inside the Rusted Anchor, one man remained at home. Haroyld Nordstrom had been going to sea for over fifty years, but it never got any easier, not for him or for his wife.
“Oh, Haroyld,” Mathilde said. “I wish you could stay here. Winters are always cold in Nordlor, and they’re even colder without you.” Despite voicing that she wanted her husband to stay, Mathilde was helping him to pack. He always left it until the night before he sailed.
“I’m sorry, Mathilde,” Haroyld said, as he placed a box of ink and another of parchment inside his sea trunk. “I know you don’t like staying here alone.”
At the word “alone” Haroyld’s eyes drifted to a cot in the corner. He had built it for a baby who never got the chance to sleep in it. Nora had been her name. And still, to this day, Haroyld could see her tiny, delicate face whenever he closed his eyes. Remaining in Nordlor would not have been half as hard for Mathilde if she had little Nora for company.
Thoughts of what he had lost in the past and what he might lose in the future, made Haroyld step back from his trunk. He looked around the cottage that had been their home for thirty years. He looked at the fireplace where he worked on his maps in the summer. He looked at the bed he shared with Mathilde. And he looked at the empty cot lying near the window.
Haroyld took a long, deep breath. Most of the men on the Plucky Leopard loved the smell of the sea. But when he sailed north, all he wanted to smell was the scent of home. He breathed in as much of the scent now as he could. He had a bad feeling about this trip – a feeling that, this time, he would not be coming back.
THE PLUCKY LEOPARD
The cry of an elk horn woke Oona up. The men were being called to sea. Oona heard the thud of footsteps as they stepped on board. Soon, dull voices joined them and one rose clear above the others.
“Prepare the deck!” Oona’s father yelled. “Man the sails! Pull up anchor!” he cried across the morning air.
A trumpet of footsteps hurried across the deck. Oona heard a loud thud as the anchor was hauled in, and then the Plucky Leopard slowly lurched into motion. Sacks of flour and grain slid across the storeroom, and a crate full of fruit landed on Oona’s foot. She cried out in pain. But luckily, the sounds above drowned out the sound from below, and the men continued to work.
Oona watched through the porthole as the village of Nordlor grew smaller. Soon it was dwarfed by the giant green hills that rose on either side and the river that passed through its centre. Then, at some point not long after they first set sail, Nordlor disappeared from her sight completely. Even though the village had been her home since birth, Oona didn’t feel sad about leaving it behind. She felt excited.
Two hours after leaving Nordlor they passed the next village along: a place called Whitlock where the houses weren’t made from broken ships but carved from white whalebone. Oona pressed her nose against the glass and watched it too fade from her sight and then disappear completely.
Oona continued to watch the world pass through the small porthole. The further north they sailed the smaller and wider apart the villages became. They sailed the whole of the first day and the whole of the first night. Then, for another of both.
The only sounds Oona heard as they moved north were the waves crashing against the hull, the thud of feet up on deck, a cat scratching at the storeroom door and a fiddle playing at dinner. The only person she saw was a sweaty man who came into the storeroom to get supplies. Luckily, Oona was quick to hide and he didn’t spot her.
On the third day, they passed Mournful Harbour: the last village before they entered the Northern Sea. Oona waited another two days until she was sure it was too late for the ship to turn back. Then, she pushed aside the bags of flour and dragged away the crates of fruit and went up on to the deck.
Oona stepped into the light. Gulls squawked overhead, but the sun made it too bright to see them. The air smelled of salt and fish. To Oona, it smelled like her father when he returned from his trips at sea, only stronger and wilder and fresher. Around her, the ocean stretched on and on. It was as clear as the sky; not an iceberg lay in sight.
Men bustled about on deck. They climbed the masts, they cast giant fishing nets into the sea and right in the centre of it all stood Oona’s father on the bridge holding a golden wheel.
Oona had just spotted her father when a man spotted her.
“Oi!” the man yelled. “There be a lady on the ship!”
Every man on board stopped what they were doing and looked about them. Slowly, one by one, their eyes fell upon Oona.
“Father,” Oona said, looking up into his vast shadow. “I – um…” Oona searched for something to say, but all her words had dried up.
As he looked down at his daughter, the captain’s face slowly turned red. He looked like a volcano about to explode. “What in the blasted sea are you doing here?” he thundered. “You’re meant to be going south with your mother.”
“I – I…” Oona continued to search for the right words. Unable to find them, she spoke the truth. “But I didn’t want to go with her. I wanted to go north with you.”
Oona had hoped her honesty would work: it would make her father see reason and let her come with them. But it had the opposite effect.
“Batten the hatches!” her father screamed. “Pull in the nets!” he roared. “We’re turning around. We’re going back to port.”
Oona couldn’t believe her father was being so unreasonable. How dare he take her back to Nordlor? It wasn’t fair! She bet if she was his son he wouldn’t have a problem with her sneaking on board. In fact, she wouldn’t have even had to sneak on board. He would have welcomed her with open arms and given her a private cabin.
Maybe she should have stayed below deck for a few more days. After her surprise appearance outside, her father had banished her back to the storeroom. When she’d refused to walk there, her father had picked her up – while she kicked and screamed to stay – and carried her down there himself.
The Girl, the Cat and the Navigator Page 5