by Annet Schaap
Lampie can feel herself getting sleepy, and she leans a little against Lenny, with her feet on the edge of the pond.
Holding the hoop and being a cushion at the same time—Lenny can do that just fine.
They both jump when they hear the sound of horses’ hoofs. A black horse comes racing through the gate, sending stones flying in every direction. When it comes to a stop, a man in a dark uniform climbs out of the saddle. He glances at the group by the pond, but walks on, up the steps to the front door, which is half-open. The dogs, lying lazily on the slabs in the sunshine, stand up and lumber over to him with their heads down. He gives them both a quick pat, and they lick his hand. Then he turns and walks inside. The dogs follow him.
Slowly, Lampie gets to her feet. “Was that…?” she asks.
The splashing in the pond has stopped. Fish is lying perfectly still in the water, watching his father walk away.
“But he didn’t even look.”
Fish shakes his head, and slow waves ripple across the water.
“Do you think he saw you though? Maybe he didn’t realize it was you. Maybe he thought you were someone else.” Lampie looks at Lenny, but he does not know either. “Do you want me to go and fetch him?”
“No, it doesn’t matter,” gurgles Fish, half-underwater.
“Yes, it does. It does matter. We’ll go and fetch him.”
Fetch him? Fish thinks of all the times he has waited in his room and waited and waited until his father finally had time for him. How long it took. Maybe he had forgotten exactly what his father was like, but it is all coming back to him now.
“He has to see you!” Lampie jumps up and pulls on her socks and shoes over her wet feet.
“I think he already has.”
“No, I don’t think so. Come on. Get Fish, Lenny, and come with me.”
Limply, Fish allows himself to be picked up out of the pond and, tripping over her untied laces, Lampie drags the boys with her to the house.
“Was that really your father, Fish? I thought he would be much bigger.”
In his room the admiral is eating a piece of Martha’s blackberry pie. Silently, bit by bit. The dogs are lying obediently beside him on the tiger skin. He does not look up when Lampie, Lenny, and Fish appear behind him and stand dripping in the doorway. He just wipes his mouth with a white napkin, leaving behind a small, dark stain.
The admiral nods. “Ah, Martha,” he says. “I’ve certainly missed your blackberry pie. Delicious.”
“Thank you, sir,” says Martha. She is looking at the three of them in the doorway. When Lampie goes to step into the room, Martha slowly shakes her head. No, don’t do that.
So Lampie stays where she is. She can hear Fish’s teeth chattering. Probably not from the cold, because it is really hot in here too. She looks around, at the dead butterflies in the cases and the animals’ heads on the wall, which stare back with their glass eyes.
“Would you like another piece?”
The admiral nods. “But leave some for my lieutenant. He’ll be here soon.”
When Martha passes him a clean plate, he gives her hand a quick squeeze.
“I’m sorry about Joseph, Martha,” he says kindly. “I know you were fond of him.”
“Thank you, sir,” says Martha, serving him another slice of pie.
The admiral tucks in.
Does he even know we’re here? thinks Lampie. She tries to catch Fish’s eye, but he is staring through his wet hair at his father’s back. His eyes are pitch-black again. Drops of water are falling onto Lenny’s pants, tapping on the floor. And the admiral eats his pie, chewing and swallowing. When he has finished the second piece, he puts his fork down.
“There are some things I don’t understand,” he says then, still with his back to the door. “And which I should like to understand. Why my garden resembles some kind of demented zoo, for instance.” He takes a sip of the coffee that Martha has poured for him. “But that is not the main issue. Why is it that I have barely even sailed into the harbor before I start receiving complaints that something…something has been roaming around the town? Something that has apparently been swimming in the harbor and biting decent citizens. How strange, I think. Whatever could that be? Surely not something that has anything to do with my house. Or with my son. That cannot be so. Because my son and I have an agreement. Do we not? He stays up in his room with his books and his maps and goodness knows what, and he learns how to walk. That is the agreement.” Now he turns around, chair and all, and looks at Fish. “So how is it going, my boy? Have you been practicing?”
“I’ve…um…” Fish begins a kind of sentence, but does not finish it.
“But with little success, it would seem, if a halfwit has to help you over the threshold. Do excuse me, Martha, I mean nothing by it. And furthermore…”
Lampie sees Martha’s hurt expression, sees Fish pale with misery. A flame of fury shoots through her.
“You should see him,” she says. Her voice sounds hoarse and quiet.
“Excuse me?” The admiral turns his head and looks at her with cold eyes.
“You should see him,” says Lampie, more loudly this time. “He is so incredibly fast when…when he doesn’t have to walk, and he can do somersaults and…”
“Oh, the circus tricks I saw outside? Hmm. My son the…fish.” The admiral almost spits the word out.
“Yes,” says Lampie, trying to give him an equally chilly stare. “Or you could say merman.”
The admiral pushes back his chair, scraping its feet across the floor. “Who are you?” he says. “And why in Heaven’s name are you poking your nose into my business?”
Beside him, Martha quickly puts the pie down on the table. “This is, um…The girl who helps me. She comes from the lighthouse; she’s here, um, because…”
“Ah. The drunken lighthouse keeper.” The admiral stands up and walks over to Lampie. From close up, he looks a lot taller. “So you’re his daughter, are you? The daughter of the man who cost me an entire ship?”
Lampie gasps. “Your ship?” she says.
“My ship, yes.” He looks the girl up and down, from her messy hair to her untied shoelaces. “It was gross negligence, as I just heard from the sheriff. Did you think you could mop away some of your debts in my kitchen? Did you think I would want to have that father of yours in the lighthouse any longer? What do you think the punishment is on my ship, the punishment for drunkenness and negligence?”
“I don’t know,” Lampie says with a shiver.
“Indeed. And I don’t think you want to know.”
As Lampie stands gasping for breath, not knowing where to go or what to do, someone else enters the room. It is a man who seems to be made entirely of muscles, with black side-whiskers curling out from under his cap. He pushes past the three figures in the doorway.
“It’s all arranged, sir,” says Lieutenant Flint with a salute. “As easy as, um, pie. I mean, I’ve found someone who’ll take him. Actually happy to have him, I think.” He casts a curious glance at Fish in Lenny’s arms, but then looks straight ahead again.
“Excellent.” The admiral nods. “Do have a piece of pie, Lieutenant.”
I need to get away, screams a voice inside Lampie’s head. I need to run out of the door, through the gate, down the road, through the town, along the sea path. I need to get my father out of the lighthouse somehow, and we need to run away. She has no idea how, but she has to do it. Before the admiral, before he, before someone…Her muscles are tensing up to run, but then she looks to one side, at her friend lying in the arms of her other friend, and she sees that they are waiting, waiting for something that is going to make everything even worse. So she pauses for a moment.
The admiral has turned and is walking over to where the two dogs are lying on the old dead tiger. He bends down and gives them both a pat.
“The
re is no need to make a drama out of this,” he says. “I’ve been thinking about it for some time, and I’m sure that you’ll ultimately feel more at home there than among, um…normal people, shall we say?” He glances at his son and then back at his dogs. “And having seen you doing all those tricks outside, I’m even more certain that I’m right.”
“No.” Fish shakes his head, and then he starts talking really quickly. “No, really. I know I’ll be able to do it, one day, if I keep practicing; I’ll learn how to stand and walk, I promise…”
The admiral sighs. “Ah, walking,” he says. “I gave up on that idea long ago. Lieutenant Flint here will take you. Where exactly is it, Lieutenant?”
“He’s waiting for me at the train station.” Flint swallows down his mouthful of pie. “But not for too long, he said. Fellow with one eye. Earl or something, I think. Yes, Earl, that’s it.”
Lampie and Fish are both equally horrified. They turn to Lenny and start yelling in his ears, both as loud as each other.
“Run! Upstairs!” shrieks Fish.
“Outside!” shrieks Lampie.
Lenny looks at one and then the other. Run in two directions at the same time? But how? That’s not going to work. But he does take a few steps back into the corridor, still carrying Fish in his arms. Lampie tugs on his sleeve—that way, downstairs, to the front door!
“Lieutenant,” snaps the admiral. “Put down that pie, and do as I ordered.”
“Sir!” Flint taps his cap and turns to wrestle Fish from Lenny’s arms. But suddenly a small girl appears in front of him, screaming in his face and ready to fight.
The lieutenant, who could crush the child between his thumb and forefinger, looks questioningly at his superior. Shall I?
The admiral sighs. So there’s going to be drama after all. He gestures with his hand. “Just leave it to the dogs. Douglas, Logwood.”
Growling, the two big brown dogs stand up and walk over to the girl. Lampie steps back. They have always been nice to her, but now she can see their yellow teeth, as their lips curl back and they snarl at her. She takes another step back, and then another. The dogs bark loudly, right in her face.
And then Lenny says a word.
It is the first word he has ever spoken and possibly the last. The only word in his entire life.
“Dogs,” he says.
The dogs instantly leave Lampie alone and go and stand beside Lenny. Their twisted faces become friendly again, and they wag their tails to and fro.
“Douglas! Logwood! Here!” The admiral can call as much as he likes, but the animals will not move.
“Upstairs, upstairs!” Fish hisses in Lenny’s ear, and the big boy lumbers along the corridor.
“Wait, no! Outside!” calls Lampie, but she still runs after them.
The admiral curses, and so does Flint as he tries to run past the dogs and into the corridor; they will not let him through, standing firm and growling, with their hackles raised. The lieutenant, who is not afraid of a couple of animals, shoves them out of the way—and so they bite him, Douglas the one leg and Logwood the other. They hang on for a while, until Flint shakes them off, yelling and bleeding.
From the other side of the room, Martha watches the spectacle. It would be better if she could keep that smile off her face, but she can’t. She has never been so proud of her son.
The admiral turns to look at her. “Martha,” he hisses furiously. “That moron of yours is leaving my house today.”
Martha slowly puts down her tray on the table. “I see,” she says. “Well, in that case, I shall be leaving too.”
She strides out of the room, past the dogs, who are still growling. They do not touch her.
Nick
Lenny is running in the wrong direction.
“Not upstairs!” Lampie calls after him. “Not to the tower! Anywhere but there!” But he is already on his way, around the corner, down the dark corridor, up the narrow staircase. Lampie looks across the hallway, at the staircase leading down, to the front door, where she can leave the house. But then she turns and runs after her friends.
Fish is shivering, with his arms clasped around Lenny’s neck and his eyes tightly shut. As soon as they are up in his room, he drops onto the floor, wriggles under his bed, and disappears.
Lampie comes into the room, panting. “Fish, you have to leave with me; we can’t stay here. Fish!”
But Fish stays where he is.
Lampie wants to drag him out from under the bed, but she can’t reach him.
“Piss and bile!” Lampie curses. “Don’t you understand? They’ll be up here any minute now, he’ll give you to Earl, and you’ll end up in the aquarium, just like your aunt. You don’t want that!”
It is so quiet under the bed, as if there were no one there.
“And your father is going to…I have to warn my father. Fish, help me. Come on!”
Fish does not respond.
Lampie bends down and looks under the bed, her cheek on the floor. Right at the back, she sees a small black shadow.
“Fish,” she whispers. “Edward. I really have to go. I need to warn my father. Come with me. Please! But I have to go anyway, whether you come or not.” Then she realizes that tears are rolling down her face and dropping onto the carpet. She can’t leave him like this, can she?
Lampie looks at Lenny, who is still standing where he dropped Fish.
“Lenny,” says Lampie. “What should we do?” The boy looks at her with his round eyes in his round head. He can’t help her this time.
Then someone whistles, outside in the garden. The sound blows in through one of the windows. And then again.
Lampie stands up and walks over to the window. Down there, beside the rhinoceros, stands Nick. He looks up at her, waving something in his hand.
Lampie leans out of the window, as far as she dares. “Nick!” she cries. “You have to help us. Please! I need to get to my father, and…”
Yes, nods Nick. He beckons her and points at the thing in his hand. Lampie can’t quite see what it is, some kind of short stick with straps on it. What is she supposed to do with that? Nick beckons her again. Come on!
Lampie looks back at the bed. Should she do it? And leave Fish behind?
Downstairs she hears the dogs barking away. There is some shouting and then a bang.
“Have you lost your mind, Flint?” says the furious voice of the admiral. “Shooting at my dogs?! You idiot! Lucky you’re such a poor shot!”
Lampie shakes her head. That rules out that escape route; she would never dare to go past them.
“Nick!” she screams. “Could you maybe?…Someone has to go to my father and tell him that…” Around her the wind is rising. The trees and the hedges are rattling and rustling. “He needs to know that…that the admiral has come home!” she yells over the noise. “And that he…he has to…”
Nick shouts something back to her, but she can’t hear him.
“What did you say?” she screams.
Again his words disappear into the wind.
Lampie looks around. “Wait! Wait, Nick! I’m going to throw something down!”
He nods. He waits.
Her hands shaking, Lampie takes the top off the inkpot and kneels down at the low desk. I can do this, she thinks. I’ve learned how. And maybe this is why. She dips her pen into the ink and immediately makes a blot.
Dear Father, she thinks. Dear Father, This is your daughter, Lampie. How are you? No, that’s not right. What she has to say is: That ship was the admiral’s ship, and he owns this house too, and now he’s here and you have to leave, you have to leave right away, because otherwise…She grips her pen. More blots. Otherwise…
It feels as if her brain is shaking too. And she really needs to hurry. Is that someone coming upstairs? And does Nick even know where her father lives? And what exactly did the admira
l say? Do you know what the punishment is for drunkenness and something else? he said. But he did not say what the punishment was. Bread and water, or something worse than that, much, much worse, but she has no idea what.
Lenny sits on the bed, watching her with frightened eyes.
From downstairs she hears more shouting and bumping and banging. One of the dogs suddenly yelps. Lenny jumps to his feet and is about to run to the door, but Lampie grabs his sleeve and pulls him back down.
“Please, Lenny. Please stay here!” Lenny slowly sits back down, but keeps his eyes on the door.
Lampie looks at the piece of paper again. There is still nothing written on it.
“Fish,” she whispers. “What should I write? What is the punishment on board for drunkenness and…and…?”
The voice from under the bed is very quiet, but she still understands.
“Hanging,” he says. “From the highest mast.” Of course he would know the answer. “Your father needs to run. Right away. That’s what you have to write.”
Lampie’s hands start shaking even more. Dear Father, dear Father…She can’t even remember how to write a D—what does it look like again?
“I was so good at writing,” she cries. “And now I’ve forgotten everything…”
“Give it here,” says Fish. He crawls out from under the bed. “Let me.”
He starts writing, quickly and neatly. Before long, the page is full.
Will it really help? Lampie wonders. Will her father ever get it and read it and…and…?
Down in the garden, Nick whistles on his fingers again. Lampie runs over to the window. “It’s coming!” she calls. “Just a moment!”
Downstairs a door slams; it sounds really close. The key! she suddenly remembers. She digs around in her pocket, shuts the door, and quickly locks it.
“Have you finished? Fish? Please?”
The boy nods, waving the sheet of paper to dry the ink.