The Lost Kingdom

by Matthew J. Kirby

  “So he has,” Mr. Colden said.

  “We agreed,” my father said. “No guns.”

  “No guns for the Society members,” Mr. Colden said. “But I do not oppose our guide arming himself.”

  When they reached the ladder, Andrew took hold of it, and Croghan’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Then he pulled Andrew into a tight hug before glaring up at us, turning, and walking away. He never looked back, but Andrew remained there until Croghan was gone from sight, and I saw myself in him, standing in the road watching my father. Andrew started climbing.

  We waited for him in a semicircle and greeted him with smiles when his head peeked over the railing. He had scrubbed the paint from his face and looked even more like one of us, though he still wore his earrings and locket. Mr. Colden stepped forward and helped pull him onto the ship.

  “Welcome, Andrew. Now, introductions.”

  “Thank you, but I remember everyone from before,” he said. “Mr. Kinnersley, Mr. Godfrey, Mr. Faries, Dr. Bond.” He looked at each of them as he said their names, but there was the slightest pause when he came to my father. “Mr. Bartram, Billy, and Mr. Colden.”

  “I’m impressed,” Phineas said.

  “As an interpreter, my duties require that I know who I am speaking to.”

  He made me anxious. He seemed like a good and honest man and had given me no cause to fear him. But I kept hearing my father’s warning over and over in my head, and it felt to me as if I’d be betraying my father if I accepted him.

  “We are pleased to have you with us, Andrew,” Mr. Colden said. “If you’ll follow me, I will show you below deck where you can stow your things.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Andrew said.

  “Mr. Faries,” Mr. Colden said. “Weigh anchor and get her in the air.”

  Mr. Faries nodded. “Aye, sir.”

  Before long, the villagers had regathered to watch our departure, but as the air rushed out of the spheres beneath us, it blew a choking cloud of dust into their faces, forcing them back.

  “Sorry!” I yelled, but I doubted they could hear me.

  Within moments, we were aloft, first tree-height, then hill-height, then above even those. Andrew and Mr. Colden emerged from below, and as Andrew looked around, his eyes opened wide. He took one cautious step at a time toward the edge of the deck until he could look over the side.

  “I knew we would be flying,” he said, a quaver in his voice. “But I realize now that isn’t something you can really know until you’ve done it.”

  Mr. Colden grinned. “Let’s show you what she can do.”

  I wanted to see Jane again. I wanted to tell her about Croghan and talk with her about Andrew. But I wasn’t sure how to do that without drawing suspicion. The de Terzi was not that large, and the Society members were constantly moving from one deck to the other. They might have seen me knocking on Mr. Kinnersley’s cabin or heard me whispering through the door. So I stayed up on the top deck, watching and waiting for the right opportunity.

  Mr. Colden showed Andrew around the ship, just as he had done for me. I kept my distance from them. But I didn’t seek out my father, either. The thought of talking with him felt just as uncomfortable. Instead, I moved toward Phineas, who was in conversation with Mr. Godfrey.

  “You are interested in the Fountain of Youth?” Mr. Godfrey asked.

  “I am,” Phineas said.

  “It is an interest of mine, as well,” Mr. Godfrey said. “You’ve read Fontaneda’s account of it, of course.”

  “Naturally.” Phineas adjusted his coat. “Hello, Billy.”

  “Hello, sir,” I said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  “Nonsense,” Mr. Godfrey said. “Have you heard of the Fountain of Youth, young man?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “It is a legendary mineral spring,” Mr. Godfrey said. “The Water of Life. Those who drink it are said to be restored to the prime of their youth. In other words, it grants eternal life.”

  “That is overstating the matter,” Phineas said. “I suspect the legend is simply based on a natural spring with very potent healing and restorative effects.”

  “Perhaps,” Mr. Godfrey said. “But where’s the pleasure in that?”

  “So you’re hoping to find it on this expedition?” I asked.

  They both nodded.

  “In addition to the primary purpose of the mission,” Phineas said, “I think we all have our individual reasons for being here.”

  “Some more openly than others,” Mr. Godfrey said.

  As their discussion turned to the book on seawater that Phineas had started reading, I wandered away from them, watching Mr. Faries at the helm, until Mr. Kinnersley appeared from below deck and walked over to me.

  “Billy, are you still interested in seeing my electrical equipment?” He winked.

  “Um … yes, I am,” I said, thinking of Jane.

  We crossed the deck and went below, through the Science Deck and galley. Mr. Kinnersley pulled out his key and unlocked the cabin door. “Inside,” he said.

  I slipped through, and he followed me. When he had shut the door, Jane walked around from behind the mast where she’d been hiding. “Hello, Billy. I hope you don’t mind, but I told Mr. Kinnersley that you’d found me.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “I was hoping for a chance to come back.”

  “You were?”

  “Well … yes.” I felt awkward. “I mean, I wanted to come see Mr. Kinnersley’s electrical equipment.”

  “Oh,” Jane said.

  “And so you shall,” Mr. Kinnersley said. “Right this way. All of what you see relates in some way to my work with electrical fire.”

  “Even the horse trough?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “I use that to study how electrical fire burns through water. But I think I promised you a Leyden jar. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, sir.” I pointed at the jugs clustered around the mast. “Are those Leyden jars?”

  “They are, but they are unconventional, and I must ask that you refrain from going near them. But here …” He led me to his workbench, where I saw a smaller version of the other jugs. “This one will do.” Mr. Kinnersley positioned me before the jar and moved around to stand behind me. “Now, Billy, touch the outside of the jar there with your right hand.”

  “What will it do?”

  “Nothing. Yet.”

  “But what is it?”

  “It is trapped electrical fire,” Mr. Kinnersley said. “Stored power. And, oh, Billy. When that power transfers to you, it makes you feel more powerful. Touch the jar.”

  I hesitated. My father and Mr. Franklin had given me enough reason to be cautious of Mr. Kinnersley.

  “Don’t be frightened,” Mr. Kinnersley said.

  Jane stood nearby, watching me.

  I stood up straighter. “I’m not frightened.”

  “Good,” Mr. Kinnersley said. “Touch it.”

  I reached out. But nothing happened. The metal foil felt cold beneath my fingertips.

  “Now,” Mr. Kinnersley said, “I want you to touch the wire sticking out of the cork.”

  I looked at Jane, and she smiled back at me. Then I lifted my finger toward the wire. I knew I shouldn’t. I knew I should’ve just pulled away and said no. But I couldn’t. In spite of the arguments gathering like a mob in my mind, I could not pull my finger away and instead found it getting closer to the wire.

  Jane was watching. My hand was an inch away. Then less than an inch. Then —

  My bones hummed. A cold fire burned through my flesh and my skin. A great bell clanged deep in my ears. And beneath that, I heard something. A voice …

  “… ake up, Billy.”

  … and a slapping on my cheek. I opened my eyes.

  My father leaned over me. “Oh, thank heavens.”

  “That was unexpected.” Mr. Kinnersley stood above my father, his fingers an agitated knot in front of his chest. “But there, no harm done.”

&nbs
p; “No harm?” my father shouted. “No harm!”

  As my vision focused, I saw the others had crowded into the cabin and doorway. Mr. Colden, Andrew, the other Society members. And Jane peered at me, her hand over her mouth.

  I found my voice. “I’m fine, Father.”

  My father looked at me, mouth partway open, his eyebrows jammed together. I sat up and looked at my hands, which tingled and quivered and did not feel like they belonged to me.

  “There, you see?” Mr. Kinnersley dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. “He’s fine.”

  My father exploded. “You shocked my son unconscious!”

  “I’m fine, Father.” I tried to get to my feet and stalled on one knee. My father gripped my arms and helped me the rest of the way.

  “You are not fine,” he said.

  I wasn’t. But I wasn’t hurt, either. I felt shaken, from the inside. At the edges of my body, I smoldered. The aftermath, I supposed, of the electrical fire that had blazed through me. And my hair felt like it stood up at attention.

  Mr. Kinnersley tucked his handkerchief away. “It will take a few moments for his body to ful —”

  “Ebenezer, this time you have gone too far!” My father let go of me and rose up to his full height over the shorter, older man.

  “But it was not me!” Mr. Kinnersley said.

  “It was your jar,” my father said. “Is this what you intended?”

  “No! This, this was an accident, John.” Mr. Kinnersley bowed his head, eyes darting to all the corners of the room. “I don’t … I don’t understand. It should not have been so strong a shock. Something happened, something …”

  I felt a little sorry for him. I knew how it felt to have my father’s anger boiling over you.

  “It happened because you are both incompetent and reckless,” my father said. “And you endanger everyone around you with your fanatical zeal —”

  “Calm down, John,” Phineas said. “I understand you are angry, but we mustn’t let this get out of hand.”

  “Phineas,” my father said. “How can you say that with Jane standing right there? The situation would already seem to be well out of hand.”

  Everyone turned to look at Jane as if noticing her for the first time. She dropped her hands to her sides and lifted her chin. Her fingers touched and tugged at the boy’s trousers she wore. She had been discovered. Or rather, my accident had forced her discovery. It wasn’t really my fault, but I still felt guilty.

  “Perhaps it hasn’t occurred to anyone else,” my father said, “that Jane must have been hiding in here since we left Philadelphia. Which means that Ebenezer knew she was on board.”

  Mr. Colden’s eyes bulged, and he grabbed Mr. Kinnersley by the collar of his coat. “Is this true?”

  Mr. Kinnersley squirmed. “Let me explain. I —”

  “How dare you?” Mr. Colden threw him to the floor. Mr. Kinnersley hit with a loud thud and grimaced.

  “Father, please,” Jane said.

  Mr. Colden pointed at her. “Do not speak! I’m going to instruct Mr. Faries to turn this ship around. We’re going back to Philadelphia.”

  “Now, wait,” my father said. “I think we should discuss that.”

  “Discuss what?” Mr. Colden pointed down at Mr. Kinnersley. “I’ll not have this treacherous snake on this ship one minute beyond what is necessary. I’m tempted to throw him overboard right now.”

  “As am I,” my father said. “But as furious as I am with Ebenezer, going back may not be an option.”

  “Why?”

  My father turned to me. “Tell him what you saw before we left, Billy. In the street.”

  I remembered the men running, and I described them, as well as the feeling of being followed. After I’d finished, the mood and the silence in the small cabin tightened even further than it had already.

  “Add that information to what was stolen during the break-in at my home,” my father said, “and not only are the French aware of this ship, but they also likely observed us depart in her. We cannot turn back. It is too risky, and we cannot lose any more time.”

  Mr. Colden chewed on his cheek.

  “You know I’m right, Cadwallader.”

  Mr. Colden stood over Mr. Kinnersley, who still sat on the ground, cradling his arm. “You’d best stay out of my way, Ebenezer.”

  Mr. Kinnersley nodded without looking up.

  “Are you all right, Billy?” Mr. Colden asked me.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Jane, come with me. You and I must talk.”

  I felt for her as she bowed her head and followed Mr. Colden out of the cabin. But then my father clamped a hand on my shoulder. “We must talk as well.”

  I sighed. “Yes, Father.”

  He led me out, past the Society members and Andrew, whom I imagined to be rethinking his choice to join us. We climbed up onto the weather deck, and I saw Mr. Colden speaking with Jane up at the bow.

  “This way,” my father said, and led me toward the stern.

  We passed Mr. Faries at the helm. “Are you well, Billy?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. It gave us all a terrible fright when Jane came running up from below. She said you were dead.” He turned to my father. “How did she get on board, anyway?”

  “It seems that Ebenezer helped her stow away,” my father said.

  Mr. Faries shook his head, and we went on by him, to the rear of the ship.

  “So it was Jane who called for help?” I asked my father.

  “Yes. And our surprise at seeing her was quickly replaced by concern for you.” He turned his back to me and gripped the rail, facing the sky behind us. “What were you thinking?”

  I didn’t know what he meant. “I’m sorry, Father.” I stepped up beside him. “It was foolish of me. But Mr. Kinnersley assured me it was safe.”

  “And did you know Jane was down there? You must have seen her in the cabin.”

  “I did.”

  “Why did you not say something to me?”

  “I promised her I wouldn’t.”

  “Likely the first of many foolish things you will do for the sake of a woman.” He glanced at me and chuckled. “Your hair is standing up like a field of corn.”

  I reached up and tried to smooth it down with my palm.

  My father laughed and put his arm around me. “I’m relieved you are not hurt. I don’t know what I would have done if …” He trailed off. “Bah. Better not to think about it. You’re safe. That’s the important thing.”

  “I’m safe.”

  The world fled by, and I imagined that we left an invisible wake curling and roiling in the air behind us. We had long since left Croghan’s valley behind, and the earth below us had smoothed from steep to rolling hills, puckered here and there like a blanket someone had clenched in their fist.

  “I brought you up here to talk about something aside from Jane and Mr. Kinnersley,” my father said.

  I felt a cold snag in my gut. “What else did you want to talk about?” I asked, even though I thought I knew.

  “Andrew,” he said.

  I was right. “What about him?”

  “Just … be wary. That is all I will say for now.”

  “Yes, sir.” The snag became a tangle. I didn’t know what to say, or to think. My father had almost cost the expedition a guide. And yet, he was my father. But I didn’t understand him anymore. “But you oppose slavery. You said to Mr. Colden —”

  “I am not suggesting we enslave the Indian, Billy.” He leaned away from me, as though I’d offended him. “How could you … ?” He sighed. “The truth is not always easily understood. I hope that I am wrong about Andrew. But in the interests of this expedition, and until he proves me so, I am compelled to mistrust him.”

  “The others seem to feel differently.”

  “They have not had the experiences I have had. They do not know what I know.”

  Neither did I. So I had to rely on him, wishing that I knew what
had happened to my father.

  After a few hours had passed, I sought out Jane. I found her below, on the Science Deck, reading.

  “What is that book?” I asked.

  “Linnaeus’s Genera Plantarum,” she said, without looking up. “Do you know it?”

  “I’ve read from it before.”

  She turned the page.

  I pulled a chair up next to her and sat down. “I’m sorry, Jane. I didn’t mean for you to be found out.”

  “It isn’t your fault. I had to come out eventually. I’m just sorry I got Mr. Kinnersley in trouble.”

  “I don’t think you need to feel bad about that. I suspect he gets himself into trouble quite often without you.”

  “I suppose that’s probably true.”

  “But I also wanted to thank you. You went for help. For me.”

  She looked up. “I thought you were dead. I thought I’d just watched Mr. Kinnersley kill you with that horrible jar.”

  “Not quite,” I said.

  She closed the book. “What was it like? When you touched it?”

  I rubbed my fingers through my hair, hoping it wasn’t still standing up. “Have you ever hit your head really hard, and it stuns you for a moment?”

  “Yes,” she said. “One time on a shelf in my father’s study.”

  “It’s like that, but all over your whole body.”

  She winced. “Oh.”

  “It wasn’t so bad.”

  “What do you suppose the big jars are for? The ones around the mast?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I would advise against touching them.”

  She laughed. “Thank you for the warning.”

  “Is your father angry with you?”

  “He says he is. But I know he’s secretly happy I’m here. Honestly, I think he’s more upset that I only brought boys’ clothes.” She frowned. “It’s my mother I’ll have to worry about when I get home. She won’t know where I am until my letter is delivered. She’ll think I’ve been carried off.”

  “You wrote a letter?”

  “Of course. But I made sure it wouldn’t arrive until long after we’d gone. I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “You planned this very well.”

  “I always do.”

  “Well, it looks like your plan worked, in the end.”