The Floating Island

by Elizabeth Haydon

  And in spite of that chill, all I could think about in that moment was the rainbow flash I had seen on that first night in Kingston, and the one in the Rover’s box. My head began to itch, but I willed my curiosity to be still—for Ida’s sake.

  * * *

  They drove out the northern side of the wharf, where the cobblestone streets were replaced by paths of packed sand and shells. The wind blew in gusts, pushing the clouds along in the sky, rippling over the waves of the dark ocean they could see beyond the sandy streets.

  When they came to the same abandoned pier where he and Char had once flown the kite, Ven told Saeli to bring the horses to a halt. The wagon rolled to a stop. While the other children were catching their breath, Ven climbed down onto the beach.

  “Stay here a minute,” he said, then jogged out to the end of the deserted pier, taking care to avoid the holes in the wood above the water.

  Ven looked out into the sea, watching the gentle, constant pattern of the waves as they rolled onto the shore, foaming quietly as they slipped back again into the sea. He reached up to his cap and ran his fingers along the albatross feather, his luck token.

  * * *

  Whether it had brought me good luck or bad was hard to say for certain, but either way, I needed all I could get now.

  * * *

  28

  The Rescue

  “AMARIEL!” VEN SHOUTED OVER THE ROLLING SEA. “AMARIEL! ARE you out there?”

  Only the waves answered him, their gentle splashing swallowing the sound of his voice.

  Ven waited impatiently for a while, but when there was no sign of the merrow he called again.

  “Amariel!”

  The silver light of the moon rippled out in the harbor. Ven squinted, but saw no further movement. “Amari—”

  The merrow’s head popped up in the water directly below him. She looked displeased.

  “Stop that!” Amariel commanded. “You’re waking everyone up, and since you’re using my name, they’ll blame me. What do you want?”

  Ven sighed in relief. “Who’s everyone?” he asked, his curiosity roaring back like a wildfire.

  The merrow flipped her hair, showering him with a curtain of salt spray.

  “The seals and the sea lions, the pelicans asleep on the buoys and pier posts—and the merrows and selkies, thank you very much. Why are you shouting?” Her green eyes gleamed brightly in the moonlight. “Have you come to explore the depths with me?”

  “No,” Ven said urgently, “I wish I could, but tonight I need your help. A friend of mine is disappearing, and I have to get out past the harbor and into the open sea. Can you help me?”

  The merrow’s forehead wrinkled visibly.

  “That made absolutely no sense,” she said.

  “I know, I know,” Ven said. “But can you help me?”

  Amariel thought. “Yes,” she said after a moment, “I suggest you find a boat.”

  “Well, yes, I know that, I meant—”

  The merrow dove and vanished.

  Ven watched the water for a while, then sighed dispiritedly. He looked up and down the waterfront, then went back to the wagon.

  “All along the beach there are abandoned boats, some of them little more than driftwood,” he told the others. “We have to find one that will hold us—if we can’t, we’re going to have to borrow one from the fishing village, and that could get ugly.”

  “Isn’t that also known as stealing?” Clem asked disapprovingly.

  “Yes, so let’s find one nobody wants anymore if we can,” said Ven. He turned to the vanishing girl in the back of the wagon. “Ida, stay here with Saeli. Char, Clem, and I will be back as soon as we can.”

  “Only an hour or so till midnight, Polywog,” Ida said nervously.

  “I know—we’re doing our best, Ida,” Ven said. “Try not to worry; it seems to make you fade faster.”

  “Talkin’ does, too,” Char added as the three of them headed off down the beach. “You should prolly avoid that as well. Even after we fix you.”

  “Perhaps you can explain to me exactly what your plan is, Ven,” Clemency said as they hurried up and down the rocky beach, looking for cast-off boats.

  Ven stopped and pointed out into the vastness of the sea along the jetty, where the tall light tower he had seen from the Serelinda’s deck stood, its great lantern sending an enormous circling beam into the darkness.

  “We need to be out there, past the harbor, in the open sea,” he said, brushing back the hair the wind had blown into his eyes. “If we can get out there, I believe I can call the Floating Island—and it should come.”

  “It took days to come the last time,” Char reminded him. “And how long do ya think we’re gonna survive in a rickety little boat that no one wanted anymore, out on the open sea?”

  “Long enough,” Ven said. “Come on, Char, we know what we’re doing.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said Char, “I’m a cook’s mate, in case you’ve forgotten. And a bloody bad one at that.”

  “You’re also a sailor,” said Ven. “And a bloody good one at that.” He turned to Clem. “You’ve been keeping Ida alive and in line for a very long time now—without you as her steward, she would be on the street. You may be a curate-in-training, but you have the wisdom of a real one already. And while I may never have been good enough to merit a specialty in my father’s factory, I know what makes a sound ship. We don’t have any choice. Ida put her life at risk because we asked her to. The least we can do is risk ours trying to save her.”

  “Agreed,” said Clem, smiling.

  Char sighed. “All right. Let’s get on with it, then.”

  The three split up and ran down the beach, checking each abandoned sloop and rowboat they could find. Finally, after looking at every boat the three of them had located, Ven bent down next to a green-bottomed longboat encrusted with barnacles that Clem had located, half-buried in the sand near the abandoned pier.

  “I think we found our vessel,” he said, ignoring the doubt on Char’s face. “It has no oars, but we can gather them from some of the others. The hull is solid, the mast seems intact, once we clear the wasps’ nests off it, and the sail only has a few holes. It should get us out of the harbor at least.”

  “We’re gonna die, you know that, right?” Char said.

  “Eventually,” said Ven, “but not tonight, if we’re lucky. Here, help me dig it out.”

  “Where did this sudden burst of confidence come from?” Clemency asked as she helped burrow the sand away from the sides of the boat. “Last I knew, you didn’t even want to face your own family if you went home. What made you suddenly so decisive?”

  “Necessity,” Ven said, tunneling through the rocks and seaweed around the hull.

  When the boat was finally unearthed, the mast lifted and the sail rigged, Ven looked pleased.

  “All right,” he said, “I think we need to christen her, and then we can set out.”

  “Christen her?” Char and Clem asked in one voice.

  “Yes—the only unnamed ship I ever sailed on met an unfortunate end. I think there is something to that naming science McLean practices. If we name our boat something good, something hopeful, maybe it will survive the open sea.”

  “How about the Rescue?” suggested Clemency.

  “Good enough for me,” said Ven. “Go ahead, Clem.”

  “Let’s get the others first,” said Char, heading back to where they had left Saeli and Ida.

  When all the children and the horses were gathered on the beach, the boys dragged the sad-looking longboat to the water’s edge, and Clemency solemnly poured sea water over the prow.

  “Bow your heads,” she directed. Everyone but Ida followed her direction. “We name this boat the Rescue, because it is going to carry us safely out of the harbor and onto the open sea, to the Floating Island and back in time to save Ida from becoming a Revenant.”

  “Amen,” said Char.

  “Hear, hear,” added Ven.

&
nbsp; Saeli just looked nervous.

  Ida, now barely visible, said nothing.

  “All right, then,” Ven said. “All aboard and I’ll cast us off.” He caught Char’s eye; the cook’s mate was nodding at the tiny Gwadd girl.

  She was trembling like the wind was running through her.

  “Saeli, are you all right?” Ven asked. The little girl shook her head violently. “Are you afraid?” She nodded, equally violently.

  * * *

  She had the same look in her eyes as my brothers always got whenever they drew the short straw and had to do an Inspection. A glassy kind of stare, a terror deeper than regular fear, that comes from a long-held aversion to something. It is a fear that comes from the soul of Nain, so I supposed that Gwadd must have as much of a terror of the sea as my own race does.

  I looked out at the rolling waves before me, watching the light tower’s beam swing around the harbor, and wondered if I really might not be Nain after all. The sea had a call that thrilled me, and made my curiosity roar. Even after I almost died in it.

  * * *

  He looked around at the dark beach. “Would you feel better staying behind and watching the horses?” Saeli nodded again. “All right, then, hide in the wagon and wait for us. We need the lantern, though—will you be all right in the dark?” Saeli nodded. Clemency helped her up onto the wagon board, and the Gwadd girl slid into the cart, peeking nervously over the side.

  “Let’s cast off,” Ven directed. “Everyone who’s going, get in the boat. Clem, you and Ida in the middle, Char, you take the tiller. I’m going to man the sail.”

  Sweaty with nervous excitement, they climbed in one by one, first Clemency, who made the boat rock violently back and forth as she took her place amidships, then Ida, whose entry did not disturb it at all, and finally Char, who took up his place in the stern, the tiller in his hand. Ven waded into the whispering surf, set the lantern in its place on the prow, and grabbed the tow rope.

  “Weigh anchor, Char,” he said.

  Char pulled the rusty anchor into the ragged boat. “Anchor’s aweigh, sir.”

  “Hold tight,” said Ven as he climbed into the bow of the boat. The Rescue shuddered as he came aboard, causing the others to grab hold quickly. “Man the oars—let’s get out of the surf before I hoist the sail.”

  The others nodded and reached for their oars. Ida grabbed for one but her hands passed through it. After a moment she set her jaw and looked sternly ahead, no other expression on her face. Together the rest of them paddled, pushing against the incoming tide, bobbing up and down on each wave that came in.

  Getting nowhere.

  “I—I don’t think this is working,” Clemency said uncertainly, looking over the side of the boat as it backed closer to the beach.

  “Paddle faster,” Char muttered, putting his back into it. “The bilge is startin’ to leak in already.”

  Ven struggled with the oar, pulling as hard as he could. Just as he let go and sat back to think, the boat shuddered, then lurched forward with a violent yank. The four children rocked back and forth like bottles tumbling from a shelf.

  Ven grabbed the side as the Rescue listed forward again, then began to head out of the harbor, without any aid from the oars at all. He rose up on one knee and looked out over the prow.

  In the shadows of the lantern on the waves he could see Amariel’s head and shoulders, bobbing in the sea in front of him. Ven grinned and opened his mouth to call to her, but the merrow quickly raised her finger to her lips, then dove down into the waves, the scales of her multicolored tail flashing in the lanternlight as it disappeared.

  The boat gave one final lurch, and then started to head smoothly out of the harbor.

  “I’m going to hoist the sail,” Ven said quickly. He had planned to wait until they had rowed out of the harbor, but apparently Amariel did not want to be seen by the other children, so he set about checking the mast, then dragged on the ropes that lifted the hole-filled sail to the wind.

  Quietly they glided over the gentle waves, bumping along, heading out of the sheltered harbor past the long, rocky peninsula where the light towers stood, toward the open sea. Char and Clemency sighed in relief when the wind caught the sail, knowing they were done with rowing. Ven looked over the prow at the tow rope stretched tight beneath the water in front of them and smiled to himself.

  He turned around to share his smile with the others, and saw that Ida was no longer in the boat.

  “Ida!” he shouted, standing up in panic.

  Char and Clem looked around quickly.

  “Where’d she go?” Char exclaimed.

  “I’m right here, you dolt.” Ida’s voice came from the darkness beside Clemency. The curate-in-training jumped. When the beam of the tower came around again, it fell for a second on their boat, and in its light they could see the thin girl, her arms crossed, sitting where she had been beside Clem, almost transparent. For a moment, she looked exactly like Gregory.

  Ven, Char, and Clem exchanged a nervous glance but said nothing. Char went back to bailing the bilgewater out of the bottom of the boat.

  The waves got flatter and flatter as they saw the outer edges of the harbor approach. The moon came out from behind the clouds, casting a silver light on the sea almost as bright as the beacon from Kingston’s light tower. When at last the circling light was hitting them from behind, Ven stood carefully in the boat and looked back toward shore.

  The coastline had faded into the darkness, except for the light tower at the end of the peninsula, from which now only the beacon could be seen.

  “We made it!” Ven shouted, feeling the sea wind ruffle his shirt. “We’re out of the harbor and away from the land!”

  “Now what do we do?” Char called from the stern, holding on to the tiller.

  From the water at the bow Ven heard an annoyed cough.

  “Ahem.”

  He leaned forward and looked over the prow. Amariel was floating in the water, her hair glowing silver in the moonlight and pooling all around her in the sea.

  “All right, you’re out of the harbor. I guess your friend can stop disappearing now,” she said, quiet enough so that the others in the boat could not hear her. “So are you ready, finally, to come explore the depths with me?”

  Ven’s face fell. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he said, “I have to call the Floating Island now. There are still some things I have to do first. I really appreciate what you’ve done, though, and—” His words stopped as a tail-slap of cold water hit him in the face.

  The merrow’s sea-green eyes narrowed.

  “I understand. All right, I’m going home. I’m tired of waiting around for you.”

  “Wait—”

  Another tail-slap doused him. When Ven cleared the salt water from his eyes, the merrow was gone.

  * * *

  I don’t remember feeling sadder than I did at the moment she disappeared into the waves. Worse things had happened to me—the Fire Pirates, being arrested, being grabbed by the hands in the road—but nothing had made me feel so empty as looking out on the vastness of the sea where she had been a moment before.

  * * *

  Ven continued to watch for a long moment, but there was no sign of the merrow. Finally he looked over his shoulder and called to Char.

  “Keep her steady, Char.”

  The cook’s mate grinned. “Aye, sir.”

  Ven reached into the pocket of his vest, the one on the other side from where he stored the jack-rule. Carefully he removed the conch shell Oliver had given him on the day the Floating Island first appeared. It felt smooth and cold in his hand.

  He stood up with the sail to his back, as far forward on the prow as he could get, feeling the sea wind rustle over him, blowing the curls of his hair in every possible direction. Then, with his eyes closed, he lifted the shell into the wind.

  At first he didn’t hear anything; the wind on the water was brisk, but not enough to swell the waves. A moment later, however, a soft, high pitch c
aught his ear, a sound that whispered of faraway places and the dance of trees in the breeze. The shell was singing a wind-song unlike any music he had ever heard before, similar to the whistle through the sculpture in Kingston, but more hollow.

  He held the shell aloft until his arm got tired, then slipped it back inside his vest and stepped back into the boat to wait.

  For a long time, nothing happened. The sea remained peaceful, bathed in silver light. The boat rocked gently on the waves, held in place by the ratty sail and Char’s skill at the tiller.

  While they waited, the moon set, disappearing beyond the dark horizon. The beautiful silver light vanished, and now the boat was surrounded by darkness, broken only by the tiny lantern on its prow.

  “Shouldn’t Seren be out by now?” Clemency asked nervously from amidships. “Maybe light from the star might help us to see.”

  “It must not be midnight yet,” Ven called back from the bow. “Gregory said that was when it came out, if the sky is clear.”

  “Well, it’s certainly clear tonight,” said Clem.

  As if to mock her words, the wind suddenly picked up, causing the clouds in the dark sky above them to race along. The waves started to rise and swell, making the Rescue pitch wildly. Clemency grabbed for Ida and found that no part of her body was solid any longer.

  In the distance, the area between the sea and the sky began to darken with what looked like storm clouds. The wind, which until then had been whistling a rising song that fell in a tumbling moan, began to whine, and then to howl with fury.

  The waves rolled, sending the little boat pitching, the bow rising up, then plunging abruptly. Ven reeled back and clung to the mast, struggling to stand as the wind screamed around them, pelting them with icy hail.

  “It’s coming!” he shouted to the others, holding up his arm before his eyes to shield them from the sting of the wind and the rain. “Hold tight!”