‘Oh no,’ said Li-Li. ‘Look.’
Speeding towards Hackett, their decks crowded with soldier-drones, was a flotilla of small speedboats, safe in the wake of the Bouboulina and the mine-free path it had cleared through the harbour.
The first speedboat slowed to haul Hackett on board and was quickly overtaken by the rest of the flotilla. There were six of them, racing towards the slow-moving minesweeper. Any minute they would come alongside and board the Bouboulina.
‘They’ll take us back to the Zenana,’ said Serene, stepping up to the railing. ‘They’ll take us back and this time they’ll really punish us,’ she sobbed.
The girls crowded together in the bow of the boat, watching the speedboats draw closer. ‘I’d rather die than go back,’ said Li-Li.
‘No one’s going to die,’ said Bo. She put two fingers between her teeth and whistled loudly. Mr Pinkwhistle scurried between the legs of the girls, searching for Bo, then jumped into her arms. ‘Stand back,’ said Bo. ‘Keep away from the edge, big girls help the little ones and brace yourself for rough seas.’
Bo opened Mr Pinkwhistle’s chest and began to make calculations. When he was primed, she positioned him carefully on the deck with his head tilted upwards. Then she ran to join Callum where he sat slumped against a pile of ropes and canvas.
‘What is he going to do?’ asked Callum.
‘Something I’ve never made him do before,’ said Bo. She put her arms around Callum and braced them both for the shockwaves.
Mr Pinkwhistle’s jaw flipped open, so wide it almost looked as though it was dislocated. A gargling sound came out of his body and then suddenly, a tiny missile launched out of his mouth, shooting over the bow of the boat, directly into the path of the speedboats. One after another, miniature missiles released in lightning succession from Mr Pinkwhistle’s open jaw. Sparks and smoke spilled from him as his body was racked by each release. A plume of seawater fifteen metres high rose into the air, showering the deck. The girls shrieked as they were drenched with cold water but when the turbulence had settled, they ran to the railing. The flotilla was in disarray. Four speedboats had capsized and the others had stopped to haul men from the water.
Mr Pinkwhistle snapped his jaw shut and spun in a circle three times, a dance of victory, while the girls gathered around him and cheered.
When they were sure they were safe, the children all climbed the stairs to the upper deck and crowded onto the forecastle. Bo helped Callum into a seat beside Li-Li and checked his wound. It had stopped bleeding. The bullet hadn’t lodged in his shoulder but had cut through the outer edge, leaving a deep flesh wound that would heal with time.
Wearily, Callum pushed her hands away. ‘Stop fussing. I’m all right,’ he said. ‘I’m more worried about what happens next. They’ll hunt us down, you know, no matter where we go in the harbour. Even if we hide on the North Shore, there will be Sons of Gaia waiting to poison us. There’s nowhere safe in Vulture’s Gate.’
‘I know,’ said Li-Li. ‘That’s why we’re leaving. We’re not sailing across the harbour. I’ve sent the ROVs ahead to clear the mines all along the peninsula. We’re going to sail through the Heads.’
‘Into the open sea?’ said Callum. ‘But where do we go from there?’
‘To find a home,’ said Bo. ‘Our own home in a faraway place.’
‘That sounds like one of your stories. What if there is nowhere safe? What if there’s nothing out there?’
‘Before I met you, I thought all boys were idiots,’ said Li-Li. ‘Don’t prove me right.’
Callum smiled. ‘Before Bo, I thought all girls were extinct. I’m ready to be wrong again.’
Bo glanced from Callum to Li-Li and laughed. Then she looked out to the wide, open sea, to the vast, deep-blue expanse of ocean lying between the golden cliffs. In a matter of minutes, they would pass out of the harbour. Vulture’s Gate would be left behind. She wanted to feel happy and free at last but there was a part of her that felt heavy with loss. All her old life was gone forever. Poppy, Tjukurpa Piti, the Daisy-May, Mollie Green, Roc and the Festers, even her time at the Zenana was over forever. Every moment of those other lives that she had lived was now only a story. She glanced from Li-Li to Callum. She wasn’t alone. Each of them had lost so much. The weary faces of all the Colony girls were etched with hope and nervous anticipation. The future was an open book.
‘Will our story have a good ending?’ asked Serene.
‘Yes,’ said Li-Li firmly. ‘We’ll find an island. But not like Mater Misericordiae. A new island where girls can be free.’
‘And they all lived happily ever after,’ said Lolly, looking up at the older children.
‘But that’s what you say at the end of the story,’ said Bo, sweeping Lolly into her arms. ‘This isn’t the end.’
‘What goes at the start?’
‘Once upon a time . . .’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Writing Vulture’s Gate involved breaking new ground, taking risks and venturing into dark places. Thanks to all the brave souls that believed in the story, the ideas behind it, and in my ability to stay with the project especially: Ruby Murray, Ken Harper, Julie Walker, Eva Mills, Sarah Brenan, Rosalind Price, Pam Saunders, Marcus Saunders, Nano Finch, Henry Paterson-Finch, and Elwyn Murray. Also many thanks to Ruth Grüner for her stylish design sense.
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