She jumped when she heard a man’s voice coming from the corridor to the right. A moment later, a second voice answered. Two men—definitely heading toward her. She hesitated, considering going back outside, but she’d come too far to give up. She hurried down the corridor to the left.
Passing a line of empty cells, she entered a dark stretch of corridor, where the torches were spaced far apart. She smelled a strong, unpleasant aroma, and heard strange sounds coming from very close by.
A hairy hand brushed her neck. She stifled a scream and turned to see, in the dim light, a long, hairy arm reaching through the cell bars. The hand grabbed the air, trying to touch her again.
A monkey! What on earth?
She stepped out of its reach and moved cautiously forward to the next cell. Her heart stopped: a man! He was standing in shadow in the far corner—tall, like her father. Moving closer, she pressed her face to the bars.
“Father?” she whispered.
The figure stepped into the glow of the torchlight. Again Molly fought back a scream. A long black moustache slashed across a familiar hatchet-thin face.
Hook!
The pirate recognized her—she had once been a prisoner on his ship. He smiled, enjoying her fear, his thin lips pulling back to reveal a jagged row of brown tooth stumps. Molly willed herself on, glancing nervously back at the pirate’s cell.
“Molly!”
Relief filled her soul at the sound of her father’s voice. His face was pressed against the bars of the cell. She ran to him, and they embraced awkwardly through the bars for several long seconds. Then Leonard, apologizing for his rudeness, formally introduced his daughter to Bakari, who shook hands with her.
“How did you get in here?” Leonard asked.
“The door was unguarded,” said Molly.
Leonard nodded. “I assume the soldiers are preoccupied with the rocket preparations.” He nodded toward the cell window, which looked out onto the courtyard. “Molly, we’ve got to stop them.”
“I know,” said Molly. “Tink gave us your message. She and Peter are going to see about the rocket. But I came to get you out first.”
“But how?” said Leonard.
“I’ve got starstuff in my locket,” said Molly. “I’ll use it on the lock.” She drew the locket out from under her robe and flicked it open, reflexively squinting her eyes to guard against the brilliant light.
But there was no light.
“Oh, no,” said Molly. “I must have used it all up. Perhaps I can—” She stopped, seeing her father’s expression change suddenly.
“Molly, run!” he shouted. She whirled and found herself face-to-face with a burly soldier who grabbed her arms with a grip that made her cry out in pain. The soldier shouted something in the Rundoon language; moments later three more soldiers came running. They drew swords and gestured at Leonard and Bakari to go to the back of the cell, then opened the door and roughly shoved Molly inside. After making sure the door was securely locked, the soldiers left, laughing loudly.
Molly ran to her father’s arms. “Father, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I meant to help, and now I’ve just made everything worse.”
“It’s all right,” said Leonard, gently patting his daughter’s back. “We’ll be all right.”
Still holding Molly, he looked at Bakari. Bakari glanced out the window at the rocket, then back at Leonard. He shook his head, and Leonard understood his expression: things were most definitely not all right.
CHAPTER 52
THE GOLD SUITS
PETER, WITH TINK FLYING ALONGSIDE, landed in front of the big door leading to the dungeon. The door was ajar. Peter poked his head inside and, seeing nobody, stepped into the entry room. He held his breath and stood absolutely still: laughter came toward him from the corridor to his left. He turned toward the corridor to the right, but heard the sound of men’s voices coming from that direction. With nowhere else to go, he flew to the ceiling and flattened himself in the darkness next to a wooden beam. Tink tucked herself in beside him. Moments later, four soldiers, still laughing, passed directly beneath them and crossed into the right-hand corridor, their voices slowly fading.
Peter dropped quickly to the floor and trotted down the corridor to the left. He passed the storage room where the gold suits were locked up. He continued on to the monkey cell, then hesitated, weighing the risk of continuing until he reached the cell holding Leonard Aster and Bakari. But then he once again heard men’s voices—now coming from behind him—and decided to stay with his plan.
As he’d hoped, the monkey cage had no lock, only a latch. He opened it and, wrinkling his nose at the smell, stepped inside, pulling the door closed but not letting it latch. Immediately, he was surrounded by excited monkeys, hooting and shrieking.
You’re scaring them, said Tink, from Peter’s shoulder.
“Tell them it’s all right,” he said. “Tell them to be quiet.”
Tink flew down and spoke to the monkeys, making a strange combination of bell and monkey sounds. Whatever she said was effective; all of them quieted. A young monkey approached Peter, sniffed his leg, and made a noise.
She says you smell bad, said Tink.
“Shh,” said Peter, listening. The voices were getting closer.
“Listen, Tink,” he whispered, wriggling out of his robe. “Tell the monkeys that I’m about to open the door and that they should go outside and distract the soldiers.”
Why would they want to do that?
“I don’t know,” snapped Peter. The approaching voices and footsteps were very close now. “We need a distraction,” he whispered. “Make something up.”
All right.
As Tink spoke to the monkeys, Peter peered through the cage bars and saw soldiers approaching. As he’d hoped, they were the ones escorting the four boys—Slightly in the front, followed by Tootles, Curly, and Nibs. They stopped in front of the locked room containing the gold suits. Peter glanced down at Tink hovering among the monkeys and nodded. Then he pulled the cage door open.
Tink emitted a loud chime. Instantly, the monkeys, screeching like banshees, shot into the corridor and leapt onto the soldiers, climbing on their heads, clinging to their faces, yanking off their hats, and pawing through their hair. The soldiers dropped their weapons and frantically tried to free themselves of their furred, frenzied attackers; several stumbled and fell.
Peter held back, waiting. When the corridor was utter chaos, with the monkey-besieged soldiers paying no attention to the four boys, Peter darted out, grabbed the second boy in line—Tootles—and yanked him back into the monkey cage.
“Shh,” whispered Peter, cupping Tootles’s mouth before the boy could cry out. “Stay in here and keep out of sight until the soldiers are gone. I’m here to help.”
To Peter’s relief, Tootles nodded.
Peter tucked Tink into his shirt and watched for the right moment, then ducked into the still-chaotic corridor and slipped into line behind Slightly, motioning for the other boys to keep their mouths shut.
A minute or two passed while the soldiers struggled to rid themselves of the annoying monkeys, who finally scampered away down the corridor, screeching and hooting. The disheveled soldiers, clearly upset about the delay, hastily retrieved their hats and weapons. Peter pressed close against Slightly, keeping his face down. The soldiers didn’t notice the switch. Barking orders, they opened the door and shoved the boys inside, gesturing impatiently at the gold suits hanging along the far wall.
Peter, following Slightly’s lead, began putting on one of the suits. It was heavy, made of a gold-mesh fabric. It felt cool to the touch, and smooth against his skin.
“What did you tell the monkeys?” he whispered to Tink, as he tucked her inside the gold jacket.
I said the soldiers had bananas in their hair.
Peter slipped his feet into a pair of gold boots, then pulled on a gold-mesh head covering. The hood reduced his vision considerably, but now his face was obscured. He fell into line behind Sli
ghtly as the boys filed back out into the corridor, four small gold figures on their way to get the starstuff that would end the world.
CHAPTER 53
GREASING THE ROLLERS
AS THE DARKNESS DEEPENED, George, ignoring the meteor display, studied the ship, making sure the last of the workers had put away their tools and left for the day. The docks were quiet now, the sailors and dock men having found their way into nearby cafes, from which spilled loud laughter and billowing tobacco smoke.
When night had completely fallen, George said, “James, Prentiss, and Thomas, you’ll come with me. Ted, you stay here. Wait for my signal.”
“What signal? To do what?”
George reached inside his robe and drew out a white handkerchief. He waved it over his head. “When you see this,” he said to Ted, “I want you to kick out this barrel.” He pointed to a barrel at the bottom of a tall stack.
Ted studied the barrels. “But if I do that,” he said, “all these barrels will fall.”
“Yes,” said George.
“Ah,” said Ted, as though he understood, which he did not.
“Once you kick out the barrel,” said George, “run for the ship. It will be moving. Jump on quick as you can.”
“But—” Ted began.
“Quick as you can,” repeated George, cutting him off.
George, with the help of Prentiss, Thomas, and James, then selected two of the barrels of olive oil and carefully rolled them down the hill to the harbor. The dry dock was essentially a large trench dug into the harborside and lined with timbers. At one end of the trench, holding back the water, was a large wooden gate secured at one end by a thick chain. Inside the dry dock, the ship, its stern tilted down toward the water, sat atop a row of big, smooth logs; it was prevented from falling over by wooden braces along both sides. Between these braces netting hung down from the deck, so workmen could climb up and down.
“The way it’s supposed to work,” said George, “is that when that gate is opened at high tide, the water comes in and lifts the ship until it just barely floats. Then the ship rides on those logs—the rollers—into the sea.”
“It must take a lot of men,” said Thomas.
“Actually, it’s mostly gravity and leverage,” said George. “You see those two winches on each side? Those lines pulled the ship up into the dry dock. When they’re released, if there’s not too much friction, the ship will slide down and into the water.”
“But there are only four of us,” said Thomas.
“Yes,” said George. “One to release each of the winches, one to open the water gate, and one on board to start preparing the sails. The tricky part is the timing. Usually the water gate is opened at low tide. As the tide comes in, the boat is lifted. But we haven’t got time to wait for that. That’s why we’ve got this.” He pointed to the two barrels of oil.
James nodded. “To help it slide,” he said.
“Precisely,” said George.
“What about the side braces?” said James.
“Most of them will fall off or break away as she slides in,” said George. “We’ll have to count on her momentum to keep her upright.”
“It might work,” said James.
“What might work?” asked Thomas, thoroughly confused.
“Never mind that now,” said George. “We’re about to get very dirty, so I suggest we get out of these robes.”
The boys took off the robes. Underneath, George still wore his suit pants and a white shirt. The other boys were in their island rags. James, a good climber, volunteered to board the ship and unfurl the mainsail. George quickly accepted. The boys spat on their hands and shook for good luck, then James was off, sliding down the timbers into the dry dock, then climbing the netting onto the ship’s deck. The sky was now bright with meteor flashes, so he was clearly visible as he began ascending the mainmast.
George told Thomas to keep watch. He and Prentiss grabbed one of the oil barrels and, grunting under its weight, worked it down into the bottom of the dry dock. They stopped alongside the rollers; the ship’s hull rose over them, blotting out the sky. The air smelled of tar pitch.
Together, the two boys supported the cask above the rollers. Prentiss pulled the bung plug from its side, and oil glugged out, sounding like a big man swallowing. They slid the barrel alongside the ship’s hull, allowing the sweet oil to seep down between the rollers. When they’d finished with the left side of the hull, they climbed out of the dry dock, carried the second cask back down, and oiled the other side.
“She’ll slip out of here like a bar of soap in the tub,” said George. “I hope.”
“But, George,” said Prentiss. “If Thomas and I work the forward winches and you unchain the sea gate, how will we get aboard the ship once it’s moving?”
“The nets,” George said. “We’ll have to jump for them.”
“Jump?” said Prentiss.
“Yes.”
They started climbing out of the trench. George looked up at James, who was high up the mainmast working on one of the sails. There were so many meteors in the sky now that at times he was as clearly visible as if it were daylight.
“George!” It was Thomas hissing at them.
“What?” said George, reaching the top of the trench.
“Those men over there!” said Thomas, pointing. “I think they’ve spotted James!” A group of men had emerged from a hillside cafe, seemingly to look at the meteors. Several of them were gesturing toward the dry-docked ship and shouting. More men were coming out of the cafe.
“This is it,” said George. He pulled the white handkerchief out of his pocket and waved it violently over his head, hoping Ted was watching. The cafe had emptied now; the men, several dozen of them, were starting down the hill.
“They’re coming!” said Thomas, unnecessarily.
“What do we do?” said Prentiss.
“You two release the winches,” said George, starting to run to the end of the dry dock. I’ll get the gate.”
“But how do we…” began Thomas.
“There’s no time!” George shouted over his shoulder. “Just release those lines!”
Prentiss and Thomas started running for the winches, not sure what they were going to do but quite sure they had better do it quickly. The mob of angry men came shouting down the hill toward them, the fury on their faces very clear under the meteor-flashing sky.
CHAPTER 54
THE LAUNCH
THE STREETS OF MAKNAR, normally empty at night, teemed with the city’s inhabitants, who’d left their homes to witness the amazing heavenly display. Children shouted and shrieked with excitement as lines of bright light, dozens at a time, streaked silently but spectacularly across the black sky. The adults remained more subdued, muttering to each other, trying to fathom the meaning of this strange phenomenon. Many of them cast nervous glances toward the dark hulking walls of the palace compound.
The mood inside the walls was no less tense. King Zarboff the Third had emerged from his palace to watch. He was accompanied by his personal guards and the two slave boys known as the twins, who were charged with carrying the heavy basket containing the king’s beloved Kundalini. A well-cushioned chair had been set up a safe distance from the rocket so the king could sit and watch the launch in comfort.
Lord Ombra had also arrived, appearing suddenly as though materializing from the night itself. He spoke to nobody, keeping to the shadows outside the circle of torches surrounding the rocket; but the soldiers were quite aware of his presence—and the sudden chill in the air. Even Viktor Glotz noticed it, in spite of his preoccupation with the final preparations for the launch.
All watched as Glotz inserted the fuse into the rocket and laid it out on the ground, cutting it at precisely eight and a half feet. He’d calculated it would burn for ninety seconds before reaching the fuel—plenty of time for him to get a safe distance away. Glotz was not particularly worried about an explosion; this was why he’d decided to launch the rocket from t
he palace courtyard rather than the desert. Compared to the earlier rockets, this one contained surprisingly little black-powder fuel, given its weight. Most of the lifting force would come from the huge quantity of starstuff; the main function of the fuel was to propel the rocket forward, enabling the monkey to steer it on the correct course.
Glotz glanced at the sky, then checked his pocket watch. The ideal launch time was quickly approaching. He looked around impatiently, and…
There!
Soldiers appeared from around the side of the dungeon, escorting the four gold-suited boys who were carrying the trunk of starstuff. They held the trunk by handles at each corner and carried it easily; the starstuff made it essentially weightless.
The gold-lined trunk had been built with great precision; its seams and joints were fitted perfectly, allowing no light to escape. Even so, the air around the trunk hummed and even glowed faintly because of the immense energy it contained. The soldiers kept their distance from it; the gold-suited boys turned their heads away from it as they walked. Ombra drifted back into the deepest shadows as the boys brought the trunk into the torch circle and set it down next to the scaffolding that stood alongside the rocket.
Glotz approached the boys.
“There is an open hatch right above the monkey’s chamber,” he said, pointing up at the rocket. “You will carry the trunk up there—carefully—and set it inside the rocket. Then you will release the trunk lid by pressing the button on the latch. The hinges are on springs, so the lid will open by itself. As soon as it starts opening you must close the hatch. Quickly. Then come straight down. Do you understand?”
The boys nodded their gold-hooded heads.
“One more thing you should understand,” said Glotz. “I will be watching you closely. If you deviate in any way from my instructions, I will order these soldiers to shoot you off the scaffold. Do you understand?”
Peter and the Secret of Rundoon Page 21