by Eva Ibbotson
But it couldn’t be done at once because a great fog had come down, covering the Western coast and making it impossible for helicopters to take off, or ships to move. The prisoners had been in the hold of the Hurricane for several hours when they heard the engine judder into life.
Soon they would be off, and then…Nobody put into words what would happen once they were out in the Atlantic, but all of them knew. Why should Sprott let them live to tell the world what he had done.
In a corner, Minette was talking quietly to Fabio.
“If I could get to the kraken…just for a few minutes?”
Fabio shrugged. “How would it help? We’ve nothing to cut him free with.”
“I’ve got an idea. It might not work, but we’ve got nothing to lose.”
“What sort of an idea?”
Minette looked round. The aunts were dozing, their backs against the wall; the worm was curled round himself like a piece of worn-out hosepipe…
She moved closer to Fabio and whispered in his ear.
Fabio looked doubtful. “Remember what Aunt Etta said—that they can’t do it till they’re ready.”
“Yes, I know—but once or twice when he’s been learning a song, I thought…And anything’s better than nothing.”
“All right,” said Fabio. “Let me think.”
He sat for a while with his head in his hands. Then he went over to speak to Herbert who nodded and went over to the mermaids’ tank.
“I can’t,” they heard poor Queenie say. “I haven’t the heart.”
But Herbert was firm: “I’m afraid you must,” he said in his sensible voice.
An hour later Des came down the ladder with some bread and a bucketful of drinking water and as he did so, Queenie called to him.
“Des,” she trilled. “Could you come here a minute?”
He put down his bucket and sidled past Herbert. He could never be sure whether this was or wasn’t the man who had tried to strangle him on the point—it had been too dark to see his face—but Herbert gave him the creeps.
“I’ve got ever such a painful place here in my back,” Queenie went on. “Would you come and look, please?”
Des bent over her and Queenie tossed her hair so that it fell over his face.
“No, not there,” she fluted. “You show him, Oona.”
It was only thinking of the kraken that gave Oona the courage to come closer to the man with his horrible hot breath, but she did it, and she too tossed her long thick hair so that Des was completely covered in the mermaids’ tresses.
“Where?” he kept saying. “Where does it hurt?”
Only Boris was guarding the hatch—Casimir wasn’t good for much since Dorothy had broken his nose—and Fabio now climbed up the ladder. “Help,” he shouted. “The mermaids are being pestered. Send someone down!”
Sprott heard him and was furious. He had forbidden the men to go near the twins.
“What’s going on there?” he yelled and, as Boris turned, Fabio dodged round behind him running towards the deckhouse, while down below the mermaids began to scream.
The chase did not last long—Boris caught Fabio and almost threw him down into the hold. But Minette had been behind Fabio and managed to slip out unseen in the muddle and the fog, and make her way to where the captured kraken lay.
The kraken lay tethered and dangerously still. He still breathed but only just; his eyes were closed.
She tiptoed forward and laid her cheek against his head, and her tears fell on his face.
But Minette had not escaped from below deck to cry. She had only a few minutes to do what she had set herself to do.
“You mustn’t give in like this,” she said into his ear. “It’s wrong. You’re a brave and important person. You have to fight back.”
The kraken tried to turn his head but the ropes bit into his throat. She saw the look in his golden eyes and her heart sank. But she wouldn’t seem to be sorry for him; that was not the way.
“You must remember who you are,” she said sternly.
The little kraken sniffed and was silent.
“You must think of your father,” she went on.
“Father,” said the kraken. He seemed a little stronger when he said that and she could see he was thinking of the mighty creature who had given him life.
“That’s right.” Minette followed this up. “What does your father do?”
The little kraken sighed. It was a heartbreaking sound, as though all the sorrow in the world was coming out of his throat.
“Go on. Think,” prompted Minette.
The kraken sighed again. He was not good at simply thinking. Then:
“Smiles,” he said.
“Yes. He smiles. He’s got a lovely smile.” Minette saw the curve of the great beast’s mouth as he swam into the bay. “And what else does he do?”
There was another pause. Then: “Swims,” said the little kraken. “He swims.”
“That’s right. He swims.” Minette nodded hard, giving encouragement. “And what does he do when he swims?”
No answer.
“What does he do when he swims round the oceans of the world making everything better? Think.”
The little kraken thought. You could see him trying, but the ropes were beginning to cut into his flesh. He was too young to think through pain.
“Don’t know,” he moaned.
But Minette would give him no chance to go under. “Yes, you do. When he swims he does something else. What is it?”
Another sigh. Then: “He hums,” said the little kraken.
“That’s right.” She rubbed his head to give him encouragement. “He hums, doesn’t he? Humming is what krakens do.”
He tried to turn his head. His eyes were still bewildered.
“Humming is what krakens do,” repeated Minette. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes.” His voice was very weak but he was following her.
“And you’re a kraken,” she insisted. “Aren’t you? A kraken is what you are.”
It didn’t seem as though the poor exhausted creature could speak again, but he took a weary breath and tried once more.
“I’m a kraken,” he repeated obediently. “A kraken is what I am.”
At first she’d thought it was going to work. There had been a flash of pride in his eyes as he spoke; but almost at once he fell silent and turned away—and then Boris came and pushed her roughly down the ladder.
Now she sat beside Fabio, her head in her hands and knew that it was over. She had done all she could and she had failed.
In the darkness, the wan faces of the captives showed a wretchedness that was beyond tears. The two aunts sat with closed eyes trying to bear what they had done. Facing their own deaths was not so hard but what they had done to Fabio and Minette was not to be endured. Only Herbert was still upright, listening to the sound of the water against the sides of the ship.
Another hour passed…and another…The Hurricane’s engine had been turned off while they waited for the fog to lift, but now they heard it start up again.
Unsteady at first, fainter than before…wavering…but gradually settling into a kind of thrumming rhythm.
Except that the engine hadn’t sounded quite like that…
Fabio who had been dozing, sat up suddenly and dug Minette in the ribs.
Then slowly, wonderingly, the wretched prisoners looked at each other with a dawning hope.
The great kraken had reached the Islands of the Southern Reef. The turquoise water, the coral strands, were staggeringly beautiful.
There was little to do in this paradise. The people who lived there respected the sea and the creatures in it, and they came out to pay their respects to the great kraken, standing with bowed heads. They did not gawp or gape or stare; the legend of the kraken who healed the sea was in their stories and had been for generations.
“He does not smile,” said the old chief, whose great-grandmother had seen the kraken when he came before and told him about the h
ealer’s mouth curving in a bow which made everyone joyous to watch.
“He is troubled,” said the chief’s wife, who was a magic woman.
“How strangely his hum is sounding,” said a child. “There are two hums, aren’t there? A big hum and a little hum.”
“It must be an echo.”
But the kraken had stopped swimming. He was quite still in the water, resting. His head was tilted. Like the islanders he was listening…listening…
What was going on? His own hum was being interfered with. It was being disturbed. This had never happened before. Sometimes there had been an echo from his hum when he swam in a ford between mountains, and sometimes the whales joined in, but this was different. What he could hear was his own hum but it was smaller.
He fell silent, and all the creatures under the water came up to look at him and wonder what was happening.
But the silence was not complete. The small hum, the underneath hum, was still there. It was unsteady, quavery…but it was growing now in strength.
A great judder went through the kraken, sending the resting birds up in a flutter from his back. He made himself absolutely quiet once more, but it was still there—this other fainter hum that wasn’t his own hum…and yet was just exactly that.
Then the people on the barrier reef saw a most extraordinary sight. The great kraken reared up out of the water—and now he did not hum. Instead he roared.
And then he turned.
Chapter 22
“I don’t want to watch! I don’t want to!” shrieked Lambert. He tried to hold on to the cabin door but his father dragged him out so roughly that he fell forward on to the deck.
“You will watch, you namby-pamby little shirker. You’ll watch them go overboard and you’ll like it. It’s time you learnt that you don’t get something for nothing.”
Pushing and pulling, kicking Lambert’s shins, Mr Sprott forced his son towards the rail.
He felt hard done by. If the aunts had sold him the island as he wanted he wouldn’t have to drown them now, and the children too. It was their own fault really. There was no way he could get his money-making schemes under way with people blathering and giving the game away. He was going to say that he’d found the creatures wild at sea and rescued them.
“Right, go and get them,” he ordered Des. And then, furiously, “I thought I told you to stop the thing making that blasted noise!”
Des looked at the kraken, still tethered to the deck.
“I’ve tried, boss. I’ve kicked him and I’ve thumped him but you said I wasn’t to do him in.”
Evil people cannot bear the sound of the hum. They feel it as a threat to all they stand for, and the kraken had been humming now for many hours.
Boris meanwhile had opened the hatch.
“Out,” he said. “Up! Only the peoples.”
One by one they came out. Fabio, Minette, the aunts…Herbert.
On deck it was cold but marvellously fresh after the stuffiness of the hold. Gulls were flying above them; it all looked so normal—except for the look in Sprott’s eyes.
“I don’t want to see them drown, I don’t want to,” yelled Lambert, twisting in his father’s grasp.
The children moved closer together. It was going to happen, then—and almost straight away.
Boris and Des had fetched the weights they were going to tie to their victims’ ankles; not that there was much chance that they would be able to swim to safety. The Hurricane had been steaming steadily away from the Island.
The aunts had come to stand behind the children; Etta behind Minette, Coral behind Fabio as though by some miracle they could still protect them.
Fabio and Minette had linked hands. Everything inside them seemed to have turned to stone.
Don’t let me make a fuss, Fabio was praying. Don’t let me be like Lambert.
“We’ll start with the fat one,” ordered Sprott. “Take her to the rails and get the weights on.”
Des went over to Aunt Coral.
“Move,” he said, prodding her with the butt of his gun—and as he did so, Fabio went mad.
“How dare you!” he shouted and tried to attack the bodyguard with his fists.
Sprott thought this was very funny. “All right, you can go first then if you’re so full of beans,” he said, and the two thugs pinned Fabio’s arms behind his back and started to carry him to the side.
They were trying to fix weights on to his thrashing legs when the skipper put his head out of the wheelhouse.
“Better hurry,” he said. “I don’t like the look of the sky.”
There was nothing to like the look of. Not the sea, not the sky, not the surface of the water, not the clouds. Some dreadful weather was on the way.
The waves darkened, the water boiled; the sun vanished behind a mushroom cloud.
The gulls flew up screeching.
And on the deck of the Hurricane—someone began to scream.
“Hold on to me,” Fabio had shouted to Minette, but they were torn apart at once by the mountainous icy waves.
Minette had thought of herself as a good swimmer but this was nothing to do with swimming—she was being hurled up, then sucked down, rolled over…
And the cold was beyond belief.
All round her were broken planks and debris from the Hurricane. The ship had split in two the instant the great kraken had rammed her. She saw the roof of the boobrie’s splintered cage bobbing close by; two of the chicks were clinging to the top of it—but where was the third?
A wave broke over her head and she went under again; the weight of the water pressed her down and down; her lungs were bursting. I’m going to die, she thought, as far as she could think at all.
Then with a last thrust of her legs she reached the surface. And as she did so, she saw someone quite close to her, swimming as masterfully and strongly as if he was in a millpond rather than the raging sea.
“Wait, I’m coming,” called Herbert, and she reached out for him, but then another wave took her and she went under yet again and was sure she was lost. Then she felt herself pulled up and up by her hair…and found that she was clinging on to Herbert’s back and able to breathe once more.
“Hold on tight, but don’t choke me,” called Herbert—and set off through the waves as calmly as he had done when he was still a seal.
“Fabio?” she managed to ask.
But Herbert had not seen Fabio.
They passed the stoorworm and saw something large gripped tightly in the coils of his tail. The worm’s ancestors had come from the sea and Herbert wasted no time on him. He would get Aunt Coral to safety if anybody could.
A mattress swam past them, then the galley table with the third boobrie chick clinging on by his yellow feet.
“Keep still, Aunt Etta,” came Queenie’s high-pitched voice above the sound of the waves. “You mustn’t wriggle.”
The twins were holding Aunt Etta up between them as she spluttered and kicked her feet.
Hanging on to Herbert’s back took all Minette’s strength, but she was still searching desperately for Fabio.
“Please, Herbert, we must find him.”
After he and Minette were torn apart, Fabio had sighted the lifeboat which had been thrown clear when the Hurricane sank. He managed to swim towards it…to get a hand on the gunnel…If the people inside it would help him he could pull himself up.
But the people inside it were Stanley Sprott and his crew.
Sprott looked over the side and saw the struggling boy. “Get rid of him,” he said.
And as the small hand came up, Boris hit it with an oar and pushed the boy back into the water.
There was not much hope for Fabio after that. He was going down for the last time when Herbert found him.
“Hold on to my shoulder,” he ordered. “And don’t talk,”
Herbert was an amazing swimmer but he knew that to support two children all the long way back to the Island might be beyond his strength. Even a seal would not try
to swim with two pups on his back.
Everyone was in difficulties. The raft on which the boobrie chicks balanced was sinking and above them the boobrie mother squawked in anguish, not knowing which of the two to pick up in her beak. The worm’s tail muscles had gone into cramp from holding up the waterlogged Aunt Coral…
Herbert measured the long way to the Island and set his teeth.
“Come on, everybody, follow me,” he called manfully.
One could only do one’s best.
The kraken had found his son. He cared for nothing else. He swam away from the shipwreck with the child on his back. Anger still coursed through his body. He was not the Healer of the Sea now. He was a father whose child had been hurt. Let everyone else beware for he and his son were on their way!
But after the first joy of being safe, the little kraken wriggled forward so that his mouth was right against his father’s ear, and began to talk very fast in Polar. He was explaining what had happened and how the people on the Island had tried to keep him safe.
And then he said the word which the great kraken had spoken when he first swam into the bay.
“Children?” said the little kraken. And again, looking back at the wreckage: “Children?”
But it was not really a question. It was an order. The little kraken was growing up.
And the great kraken sighed because he wanted above all to be away from the shrieks and the splintered wood of the wreckage and be in the quietness of the sea. But he heeded his son—and he turned and swam back to the wreck and to the struggling creatures trying to hold each other up in the water.
Then Minette and Fabio felt something below them…the strong living island of muscle that was the kraken’s back…and felt it rise and rise till everyone was safely gathered on it—the aunts and the creatures, the boobries in their cage…and they themselves, sliding off Herbert’s weary shoulders to feel firm ground beneath their feet.
It was an incredible, magic journey that they took after the panic and terror they had been through—floating secure and safe on the great creature’s back, until the Island was in sight, and there was no more danger and no more fear.