Ship of Spies

by David Healey

  It was a rather odd comment to make. Did she know something about the incident in the hold? He stared at her. Could Mrs. Pomfrey have been the one who pushed him?

  Alexander's thoughts were interrupted by the captain calling for a toast. Alexander raised his glass, which contained water with just a splash of wine—ensigns were considered too young to drink. "To our esteemed guests," the captain said. "It's not every day that the Resolution has such illustrious passengers."

  The colonel drank, then raised his own glass. "To the finest ship in the Royal Navy."

  "Hear, hear!" said the officers of Resolution. Alexander struggled not to roll his eyes.

  Dinner was soon served, and there was a sense of urgency to the serving and the eating. It was clear that the storm was building in intensity. The boiled potatoes rolled around on their plates, and the wine sloshed in their glasses. All around them, the oaken beams and timbers of Resolution began to creak and groan.

  "It seems we are to have a storm," Scarlett said nervously.

  "Nothing to worry about, my dear," Bellingham said reassuringly. "You won't find a more seaworthy vessel than our Resolution."

  At that moment, a tremendous wave struck the stern, sending a shudder through the ship. Seawater washed up as high as the stern windows. Bellingham looked over his shoulder and laughed heartily. "Now that's a proper wave."

  "Oh," Scarlett said, growing pale.

  "You'll have to forgive my daughter, Captain," said Colonel Beauchamp. "Young ladies aren't the bravest when it comes to storms at sea."

  "Oh, posh on that," Amelia said, reaching for the wine. "In a storm, I've seen many a man to turn white as a sheet and go begging for his mother."

  The colonel did not look pleased at being contradicted. "But surely a man—"

  Amelia ignored him and turned to Scarlett. "Miss Beauchamp, I can assure you that we have the best captain in the Royal Navy and a sound ship. I hope that puts your mind at ease."

  Scarlett glanced at her father. "That's good to hear."

  The dinner did not last much longer. The growing storm meant that preparations had to be made. The ship’s timbers creaked more insistently and the lanterns swung wildly. By the time coffee was served, the cups were skidding across the tablecloth. The officers of Resolution drank their coffee hastily and began to take their leave.

  In the passageway, Alexander finally found himself beside Scarlett. "You may want to stay in your cabin until this blows over," he said.

  "The sea frightens me when it's angry like this."

  Just then, the ship tilted hard over and Scarlett lost her balance, falling over into Alexander. He caught a flash of gold as the thin chain around her neck came loose from the front of her dress. Scarlett clutched a hand over the jewelry, but not before Alexander had seen the colonel's gold signet ring.

  "Scarlett! Is that your father's missing ring?"

  The girl, so pale a moment ago, now turned a bright shade of red. "Oh!"

  "You knew I was looking for your father's ring, and this whole time you were the one who stole it! Scarlett, how could you do that!"

  She shook her head. "It was never stolen, Alexander! My father said I was to take it for safekeeping, and not tell anyone I had it."

  "Why in Hades would he do that? It doesn't make any sense."

  "I don't know, Alexander. I only did as my father told me."

  Alexander had a hundred more questions whirring about his mind, but Mrs. Pomfrey suddenly stepped between them. "Mr. Hope," she said. "I would like to ask you to stop interrogating Miss Beauchamp. It's clear that you have upset her."

  "Upset her? But—"

  He found himself addressing Mrs. Pomfrey's stern as she took Scarlett firmly by the elbow and disappeared down the passageway. They were having trouble walking steadily on the tilting deck.

  "Mr. Hope!" He heard Lieutenant Swann shout. "On deck, if you please, Mr. Hope!"

  Someone shoved a slicker into his arms, and Alexander made his way above, stepping onto the deck and into a world roaring with wind and water as the full fury of the storm finally struck Resolution.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Any further thoughts of Scarlett and her father's ring were whisked away by the gale force winds, which howled through the rigging. Only the barest of storm sails had been set to help the ship maintain steerage into the oncoming waves. Some of the larger waves broke on deck, churning across the frigate in a tumble of whitewater. Lifelines stretched across the deck to keep men from being washed overboard. Alexander grabbed hold and made his way to the quarterdeck, where he found Old Cullins at the wheel and Captain Bellingham frowning up at the water-flecked night sky beyond the circle of lantern light that surrounded them.

  "This is a bit worse than I expected," the captain said. "But it's nothing we can't handle!"

  Alexander wasn't so sure. When Alexander looked down the length of deck he could scarcely believe that he had managed to cross it. Wave after wave broke across the deck so that it resembled a river filled with rapids. Men rushed here and there to secure whatever broke loose, while others struggled to cover the hatches to prevent seawater from pouring down into the ship. Even Old Cullins, for once, was bundled up in a slicker.

  The helmsman called out to him over the wind. "Look lively, young Master Hope, and take the wheel from Old Cullins while I tie myself down good and proper. Hurry now, lad! This storm promises to get worse!"

  Alexander hurried to take the wheel, which bucked and protested in his hands with every wave. It took all his strength to keep the ship on course. Alexander’s hands shook as he worked, partly from the cold, and partly from fear. If a seasoned sailor like Old Cullins worried the storm was going to be bad enough that he might be washed overboard if he didn’t tie himself down, that caused Alexander more than a little concern.

  Another massive wave struck the ship, sending mountains of water foaming across the deck. Men clung to the lifelines, looking helpless as ants in the swirling water. Alexander gulped. The ship rode down the side of a wave and into the trough. Even in the darkness, he could make out another massive wave looming ahead. The wave’s crest boiled with whitecaps. Resolution's bow pointed into the oncoming wall of water and started to climb the side of the wave. Walking or standing on the deck was impossible without clinging to something to stay on one’s feet. The wind rose to a banshee howl in the rigging.

  Somehow, through the churning water and wind, Roger made his way to the quarterdeck. "Captain, the carpenter has passed the word for you," Roger shouted over the wind. “He says we're in trouble, sir! We're taking on water."

  "The hatches are secure. How can we be taking on water?"

  "He says it's the seams, sir. They've come loose where that Napoleonist ship struck us with a cannonball."

  "Blast! We'll have to get the pumps going double time." He turned to Lieutenant Swann. "The ship is yours, Mr. Swann. Sail her over the waves like a duck— well, like something graceful, at any rate. Mr. Hope, come along and let's see what good we can do below."

  They began to cross the deck. It was clear at the moment, but then a wave struck the ship sideways, cascading over the rail. Water swirled around the captain, but he was solid as a boulder in the current. Alexander wasn't so lucky. The racing, cold water swept Alexander's feet from under him. Only the fact that he gripped the lifeline for dear life kept him from being swept overboard. Captain Bellingham reached out a powerful hand to grab Alexander's coat and set him upright again. Behind Alexander, Roger had wrapped both arms around the lifeline. "Keep going, lads!" Bellingham shouted. "That's the spirit!"

  Going hand over hand along the lifeline, they managed to reach the companionway, which had been covered with a sail to keep the water out. They flipped it up and went below.

  The normally orderly world below decks was in chaos. Some seawater had spilled in, making everything cold and unpleasant. The men who weren't on duty huddled in groups, staring up anxiously at each new groan of the ship as it encountered another wav
e. Many hunched over, retching, seasick beyond words. Rumors had spread of the leak, and the appearance of the captain confirmed that it was serious.

  Bellingham did not take time to reassure the men, but disappeared down the next companionway. Roger followed, but Alexander lost his balance and had to steady himself before going after them.

  "Mark my words, this is Neptune’s vengeance upon us for harboring an elemental. It's bad magic, is what it is, boys! Throw him over and we'll be done with this storm."

  Alexander's head whipped back, but it was impossible to tell whose voice he had heard. Several pairs of eyes stared at him in silent accusation. In a ship at sea during a storm, there was nothing more superstitious than a sailor. Alexander turned his back on the men and went below.

  Deep in the hold, near the spot where Alexander had been attacked, the ship's carpenter and his mates worked desperately. Water gushed in from between several planks. More men worked the pumps, cranking madly, but they could not keep up with the rush of water.

  "Mother of Venus," the captain muttered. "This is a fine mess."

  "Captain," the carpenter said, his eyes wild. He was soaked through, and in one hand he held a wooden mallet. He and his mates had tried to staunch the flow of seawater, but the flood was worsening. "We've done everything we could, sir. It's this infernal storm! Some of the planks must have been loose where a ball from that Napoleonist ship struck us, and the waves have worked open a gap."

  "Surely you can make repairs, Mr. Barnes?"

  "Aye, in calm weather we could," he said. "If nothing else we could send a diver over the side to cover it with canvas, but not in this storm. I'm afraid if we get much more of a pounding, the weakened planks could give way altogether. Then it’s straight down to Davy Jones’s locker for us."

  Bellingham studied the flowing water, gushing in like a waterfall. Even as they watched, the flow appeared to increase.

  "Must we abandon ship, sir?" Roger asked.

  "No, Mr. Higson, I'm afraid a lifeboat wouldn't last more than a few minutes in these seas," the captain said. "Our best chances will be to keep pumping water and pray that this storm lets up so that we can make at least temporary repairs."

  Judging by the way that the ship pitched and rolled, it was unlikely that the storm was going to let up anytime soon. The water in the hold rose around their ankles, then their shins, despite the fact that the men worked the pumps desperately.

  Roger looked at Alexander. "You can do something, Alexander."

  "What do you want me to do, hammer in some caulk? The carpenter and his mates have already tried that."

  "No, use your power, Alexander! Stop the water from coming in and the carpenter can patch up the ship!"

  Alexander could only stare at him. Roger didn't know what he was asking. "It might seem simple to you, like sticking a cork in a bottle, but it doesn't work like that."

  "Why doesn't it? What good is being an elemental if you can't stop the sea from sinking your own ship?"

  "No, you don't understand, I can't —"

  "You have to try something, Alexander, or the Resolution is going down! Look at the water! It's nearly up to our knees! The pumps can't keep up."

  Alexander looked at Captain Bellingham for help, and was surprised to find that the captain was looking intently at Alexander. "Can you do it, Alexander? Can you stop the water?"

  "Sir, I don't know."

  "I'm afraid you must try. This may be our only chance."

  Alexander looked desperately around him. He had been so afraid of trying to use his power because he was sure it had fled. He didn't feel it in him anymore. Though it had been weeks ago, he still felt drained from the attack on the Napoleonist ships. He feared the awful headache that had resulted. What if he passed out again? The truth was that he was terrified even to try, not because his power would work, but because it might not.

  Meanwhile, the ship's carpenter and carpenter's mates had given up fighting the incoming water. They stared now at Alexander, hammers and caulk buckets hanging uselessly at their sides. The men still turned the pump, but now they were having to drag the handle through the water during the low part of their turn. They didn't stop pumping, but they watched Alexander expectantly. It was clear from their faces that they knew they were fighting a losing battle against the rising water.

  "Everyone stand back!" Alexander shouted, surprised at the anger and resentment in his own voice. Everyone expected so much of him! He was just an ensign. No one was asking Roger to do anything. Wasn't it up to the captain to save the ship? "I'll give it a try, but don't blame me if it doesn't work."

  He reached out his arms toward the rush of water, then closed his eyes. Concentrate. He tried to find the power within him. It had been a long time, but he did feel a glimmer of something. He had felt it a bit when he got angry with Colonel Beauchamp, but this time was different.

  The truth was that he was tempted to ignore that power because the thought of it frightened him. But as he reached toward it in his mind, the power seemed to dance away. It was like trying to grab hold of a bit of slippery soap in a bathtub—he could touch it, but getting his hands around it was a different matter. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and reached out with his mind, but it was no use. Finally, he opened his eyes with an exasperated sigh. "I'm telling you that I don't have power anymore, that it's gone. I'm sorry!"

  The hold was now silent except for the rushing sound of water. The men had stopped even bothering with the pump.

  Captain Bellingham stepped forward. He bent down toward Alexander and gripped his shoulder. "You're trying too hard, lad. You're thinking about it too much. When you were learning your knots with Old Cullins, think about the first time you really understood how to tie a knot. I can tell you. It was when you were thinking about something else and letting your hands do what they already knew how to do, without letting your thinking about it get in the way. Do you know what I mean?"

  Alexander shook his head. "It's no use, sir."

  "I don't believe that for a minute," Bellingham said quietly. "You are the heir of Algernon Hope. I have seen what you can do. Don't be afraid of it, lad. Let it out."

  Bellingham gripped his shoulder, then stepped back. He gave Alexander a nod.

  Just one more try, Alexander thought. What was the harm in that? This time, he didn't shut his eyes, but watched the water streaming in from between the planks. The power, like that slippery bit of soap, seemed far out of reach.

  If the ship went down, would anyone miss him? His greedy uncle certainly wouldn't. The man was counting his money—Alexander's money—and laughing at the trick he had played on his nephew by sending him to sea. Instead of the anger he usually felt, he felt only sadness. His father and mother were gone. The only real family he knew was now on this ship. He thought, too, of the French girl Celeste, whom he had met during the rescue mission for Lord Parkington months ago. He would never get to see her again if the ship went down. And what of Scarlett? She would never see her home again.

  He reached out his hand toward the water.

  If only he could fly a gryphon one last time. Or stand at the wheel of Resolution on a clear day under blue skies, with the wind filling the sails gently.

  He felt a pain in his head. Looking at the water, the pain grew intense until it felt as if someone was using one of the carpenter's hammers to drive a nail through his forehead. He felt his knees giving way, but he ignored the pain, pushed past it. It was like a small boat fighting through the surf, and suddenly getting past the breaking waves onto the open water.

  Water. He felt it all around him. He could hear it sloshing in his ears. Whirling in storm-tossed waves and sky all around the ship. Water that didn't belong in the ship. Reaching out both hands now, he pushed back against it. The water didn't want to stop. He pushed harder. Again, the pain surged through his head, but he tried not to notice it. He stared at the water shooting from between the ship's planks. He imagined he could feel it running over his fingertips.

>   He ordered it to stop. And so it did.

  "Now, do it now!" he could hear the captain's battle voice, but it sounded muffled in his ears. He was dimly aware of the carpenter and his mates springing into action with their mallets and caulk. They drove in the caulk to fill the gaps between the planks. The water still wanted to get in, but Alexander told it not to. He reached outside the ship and forced back the sea battering the planks. He reached beyond that and pushed the waves away from the ship. All of a sudden, the violent pitching from the storm subsided.

  "More caulk!" Bellingham shouted. "You there, fetch some pitch and work it between the planks. Get those pumps going again! We are sitting too low in these heavy seas."

  Then Bellingham turned to Alexander. "You've done it, lad! You've saved the ship!"

  That was all well and good, but Alexander felt himself starting to sink to his knees. Bellingham wouldn't let him. He caught him with one big hand and Roger grabbed Alexander's other shoulder.

  Alexander seemed to be coming out of a dream, or a trance. He shook his head to clear it. To his surprise, his head ached only a little, as if he had just walked into a low beam. It was not the excruciating pain he had felt after destroying the Napoleonist ships weeks ago. However, he felt overwhelmingly weak and tired.

  The others in the hold stared at him in awe. "My God, boy, you are an elemental. I've never seen the like," the carpenter said.

  "Belay that, Mr. Barnes. We were lucky in finding a lull in the storm just now. Get the water pumped out of here.”

  But Bellingham was grinning as he gripped Alexander's shoulder and shook it with enthusiasm, like a terrier with a bone. "By Neptune, lad, if you can do that on command you're more valuable to the Royal Navy than a First Rate ship of the line, or a fleet of them, for that matter."

  CHAPTER 15

  Bellingham did not want Alexander left alone, so he ordered him put into a hammock in the surgery with Professor Hobhouse keeping watch over him. Alexander managed to doze, despite the fact that the storm still tossed Resolution cruelly.