Sunker's Deep
Page 21
Please turn, she begged silently. Dolph? Pleeeease turn!
She closed her eyes and imagined she was a gull, and could fly across the waves and beat her wings against the bridge windows. She imagined—
‘SHE’S TURNING!’ roared Krill in a voice that almost sank the basket.
Petrel’s eyes snapped open. And there was the bow of the Oyster, slowly coming around as the ship changed course towards them.
She didn’t realise she was crying until she looked at the others. Tears poured down every face – even Sharkey’s. They wept, and waved to the ship, and wept some more.
But as the Oyster came closer, Petrel wiped her eyes and said, ‘Soon as we’re safe, we’d better pick up the Sunkers. Don’t want to leave ’em there for the Devouts to catch again. And then we’ll have to see if we can get Rampart afloat.’
Sharkey smiled at her.‘And retrieve the boxes.’
‘What boxes?’ asked Petrel.
‘Just – Sunker stuff.’
‘Your folk’ll be pleased to see you, lad,’ said Krill.
‘Nay,’ said Sharkey, his smile vanishing.‘I don’t think so. I don’t think they’ll want me back.’
‘Don’t see why not,’ said Petrel.‘Specially when you got ’em out of the camp and all. But if they don’t want you, you can stay with us, along with Rain and Bran. And then—’
And then we turn south, she thought. That’s what I want, isn’t it? We could go back to our old course, as far from the Devouts as possible. And with any luck, one day we’ll spot a flock of pigeons, and there’ll be the cap’n, as good as new. And Mister Smoke riding on his shoulder.
The ship was so close now she could see folk standing at the rail. She waved frantically, and heard someone say, ‘Is that Petrel? And Krill?’
‘Aye, it’s us!’ screamed Petrel. ‘And Fin too!’
There was a whoop of joy, and the next minute the rail was crammed with shipfolk, elbowing each other and shouting at the tops of their voices.
‘It’s Petrel! Look!’
‘Where’s the cap’n? I can’t see him. Can you see him?’
‘Here, give way, I was here first.’
‘Who’s the boy with the patch?’
‘Where’s the cap’n?’
‘Hey, Krill, cooking’s improved since you left. Ha ha ha.’
Two voices rode over all the others.
‘Da! Da!’That was Squid, almost falling over the rail in her excitement.
‘Petrel!’ And that was Dolph, jumping up and down on the spot like a bratling.
Krill’s grin was so wide that his beard looked as if it was about to split in half. Fin was laughing. Petrel felt like crying again, but she laughed instead.
Sharkey wasn’t laughing, and neither were Rain and Bran. They huddled in the back of the basket, glad to be rescued, but taking no part in the celebrations.
Petrel thought of Bran when she had first seen him, in the quarry. She thought of the whipping posts and the starving Sunkers, and the villagers she had seen, so thin and frightened that it hurt to look at them.
They’re Nothing folk, she realised, just like I used to be. Only there’s a whole country full of ’em!
And then she thought, We can’t just sail away and forget about ’em.That wouldn’t be right.
She took a long, slow breath and said, ‘We’ve gotta stop the Devouts.’
Everyone in the basket turned and stared at her. ‘I thought I wanted to go back to the ice,’ she said,‘but I don’t. Not yet, anyway. I want to bring back machines, so folk don’t have to wear ’emselves out carrying water and suchlike.’
‘And feed ’em,’ said Krill. ‘I’ve never seen so many hungry folk in my life.’
Fin was smiling. ‘And find my mama, so the Devouts cannot harm her. And the captain. And Mister Smoke.’
‘Aye,’ said Petrel. ‘And find the Singer too, like the cap’n wanted. And stop the whippings, and – and—’ Her voice trailed off.There was so much to do and she had no idea where to start.
They were right up against the ship now, so close they could feel the throbbing of the great engines. Four ropes slithered down, each with a strong hook on the end. Petrel and Sharkey jammed the hooks under the rim of the basket, then waved.
Rain started singing, quietly at first, then louder. Petrel joined in, and Bran and Fin and Krill. And last of all, Sharkey, so that, as the basket rose slowly up the great vessel’s side, they were all singing at the tops of their voices.
‘But will we cower, will we hide?
Will we lock ourselves inside?
Or will we hold ourselves with pride
And chase those ghouls away?’
And it seemed to Petrel that, just as they reached the rail and fell into all those welcoming arms, a freak wind snatched their voices up and carried the song across the water towards land.
Where it fell upon a thousand starving villages like a promise.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book was inspired by a visit to the captured World War II German submarine that sits in the basement of the Museum of Science and Industry, Chicago. As soon as I set foot on that battered old sub, I knew I had to write about life underwater. Trouble was, I knew nothing about it. The two men who helped me most were Lieutenant Commander David Jones, RANR, who advised me on steering and navigation, and Commander Ian Dunbabin, RANR, who read the whole manuscript and talked me through various situations onboard submarines. Both men gave generously of their time and expertise, and if the world of the Sunkers is a convincing one, it is largely due to them. Any mistakes that remain are mine.
As usual, my Australian publishers Allen & Unwin were brilliant to work with. I’d particularly like to thank the editorial team of Kate Whitfield, Eva Mills and Susannah Chambers, who pushed me to make Sunker’s Deep a much better book than it would otherwise have been. Also at A&U, thanks must go to Lara Wallace and her replacement Clare Keighery, to Jyy-Wei Ip, Julia Imogen, Liz Bray, Angela Namoi and all the other people who have worked so hard to get the Hidden series out into the world.
It’s always exciting to see my characters come to life visually, and Sebastian Ciaffaglione has captured Sharkey perfectly with this cover, while Design by Committee have made it even stronger.
Last but not least, thanks to the excellent Peter Matheson, and to my wonderful agent Margaret Connolly.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lian Tanner is a children’s author and playwright. She has worked as a teacher in Australia and Papua New Guinea, a tourist bus driver, a freelance journalist, a juggler, a community arts worker, an editor and a professional actor. It took her a while to realise that all of these jobs were really just preparation for being a writer. Nowadays she lives by the beach in southern Tasmania, with a large fluffy tomcat called Harry-le-beau, and three chooks, Dolly, Clara and Floss.
Book Three
Gwin is a Fetcher. With her Papa and her brother, Nat, she travels the hidden paths of West Norn, singing songs and telling stories that keep a spark of hope alive in a downtrodden land. But old songs and stories are forbidden by the Devouts, and when Papa is captured, Gwin is faced with a terrible decision.
A decision that will bring her up against Petrel, Fin, Sharkey and Rain, in the worst possible way …
Coming in late 2015!