The Eye of the North

by Sinead O'Hart

  “Shhhh!” He strode over to her and placed one hot and sweaty hand over her mouth. His eyes were huge, and Emmeline didn’t think she was imagining the trembling she could feel in his fingers. He turned back toward the door, whooping quietly. After a few minutes of silence, he ushered Emmeline back toward their corner, where they huddled.

  “Sorry I were gone so long. But the whole—whoop—ship is looking for you,” he said. “Everyone. I ’ad a lot of dodgin’ to do to get back ’ere.”

  “Looking for me? Why?” Emmeline couldn’t imagine an entire shipful of people caring one way or the other about where she was.

  “A missing kid? On a Northern Jewel cruise ship? Whoop? It’s big news.” Thing’s eyes hopped about, and though his breaths were calming, they still sounded thick. “If that’s all it is,” he added quietly.

  “Do you have asthma or something?” Emmeline asked, wondering if it was catching.

  “Somethin’,” replied Thing. “Forget me. What are we goin’ to do about you?”

  “What about me?” Emmeline leaned over her satchel absentmindedly, but it was just out of reach. Thing grabbed her wrist.

  “Pay attention, Ems,” he said. “This is important.”

  So is my satchel! Emmeline thought, the words lashing across her brain like a whip. “Should we go to the captain and tell him—”

  “Are you off yer head?” whispered Thing, his voice sharpening to a squeak. “The captain? He’d announce it to the whole ship, and then d’you know what’d happen?”

  “People—people would stop looking for me?”

  Thing rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that. An’ those two brutes who played hide-and-seek with us last night would know exac’ly where you were. Right? Not a lot of places to run on a ship.”

  “Oh,” said Emmeline in her littlest voice.

  “Yeah, oh. So we got to keep you hid, at least until we reach Par-ee. After that, well…” Thing rubbed at his face with a grubby hand. “After that, not even my brainpower knows what t’do.”

  “I have to meet someone in Paris,” said Emmeline quickly. “I have an address to go to, and a person to ask for, a person who’s going to…”

  “Who’s goin’ to what?” Thing’s eyes glittered in the dim light.

  “Who’s going to look after me, now that my parents…now that they’re gone.” A few seconds passed, silent but very full. Thing slid his fingers into Emmeline’s hand, and she gripped them tightly, just for a moment. Somehow she knew he understood how it felt to have nobody.

  “Right,” he said. “Well, we gotta get you off the ship in Par-ee without anyone seein’ ya, and without anyone shoutin’ for a constable. We can do that.” In the silence that followed, Emmeline’s stomach rumbled as loudly as a round of applause in a packed theater.

  “Gosh, excuse me,” she said, clutching at her middle.

  “Got just the thing for that,” said Thing, reaching into one of his many pockets. When he withdrew his hand, it held two small croissants and several miniature chocolate rolls, which were doused with icing sugar. Emmeline’s mouth watered instantly, and Thing let her have first choice.

  “Where did you get these?” she asked through a mouthful of sweet dough.

  “Found ’em, just lyin’ around,” replied Thing.

  “Hmm,” said Emmeline, but she didn’t stop eating.

  As soon as she’d swallowed the last crumb, Emmeline realized she had another problem that needed her immediate attention.

  “So, uh, I need to go out,” she said, hoping he’d understand what she meant.

  “Go out?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. “ ’Ave you ’eard a thing I’ve said?” He took a huge breath and whooshed it out through his nostrils. “The whole ship is lookin’ for ya. So goin’ out is not really somethin’ you should be considerin’, all told.” He sat back a little, grumbling.

  “But I have to…,” she began. “I have to—you know!”

  “You have to what?” Thing’s attention was already wandering. He slouched over to where Emmeline had neatly folded the blanket and shook it out again, before settling himself on the floor and tucking it around his legs.

  “I have to attend to something,” said Emmeline through gritted teeth. “Something private!” Thing’s frown gradually smoothed out, and Emmeline watched laughter tickle the corners of his mouth.

  “Oh—right!” said Thing in an overloud voice. “That. Well—yeah. I hadn’t considered that.”

  “What do you do when you want to—you know?”

  “When I want to go to the toilet, you mean?” said Thing pleasantly. Emmeline felt her cheeks tingle and was glad of the semidarkness. “Well, I just pick a corner and have at it, me.”

  “Well, that’s not going to work,” said Emmeline in a voice as crisp as a freshly laundered sheet.

  “I can go out an’ liberate a chamber pot, if ya like.”

  “But I need to go now.”

  “All right, all right,” sighed Thing, flinging the blanket off and hopping to his feet. He paused and then looked at the blanket again, a small grin blooming.

  “I’ve got an idea. O’course, it might be doomed to failure,” he said carefully, “but so are most feats o’ genius. Yeah?”

  “Um,” said Emmeline, getting up. She stumbled as she rose, and Thing reached out a hand to steady her.

  “Whoa there! All right?”

  Emmeline shot him a grateful look. “You just have better sea legs than me, I suppose.”

  “Somethin’ like that,” he said. “Now—you ready?”

  Four minutes later the door to their hideaway creaked open. A curious-looking creature stuck out its head and glanced up and down the corridor before finally creeping out on steady feet, heading for the stairs to the upper decks.

  The creature was short and bent over, with what looked like a misshapen hunched back, and it was dressed in a strange tartan robe with a fringed edge. It clutched an old walking stick (pilfered from the storeroom) and wore a thoroughly odd top hat (also pilfered).

  “What’s the point of goin’ out there in disguise,” Thing had said, “unless we do it so over the top that nobody even dares to ask questions?” Emmeline had looked dubious at this but had said nothing. “Plus,” Thing had continued, “if you walk with a cocky step an’ yer head held high, and you give off this air that says, I know exac’ly what I’m doin’, mate, you can pretty much do anythin’ and go anywhere. Fact.”

  “If you say so,” Emmeline had sighed before clambering up on his back and holding tight, her satchel snugly fastened to her front.

  “Let the adventurin’ begin,” Thing had whispered with a grin.

  Emmeline was finding it hard to keep her grip. Her hands kept slipping from around Thing’s neck, and she was acutely aware that she couldn’t move too much. If she wasn’t careful, anyone looking at Thing—who seemed, to the unobservant, like a hunched-over old man with strange taste in traveling cloaks—might wonder why his back was wriggling. All it would take was one person to shout, or point, and the whole game would be up.

  Add this to the pressure in her bladder, and Emmeline was in a very foul mood indeed.

  Thing, however, whistled as he walked, even going so far as to start swinging his cane in time to the tune. They turned a corner and came upon some high-society ladies, and Thing shuffled around them, turning his fumbling steps into a short dance routine.

  “Pardon me, me lovelies,” he said in a raspy voice that was nothing like his own. “I’m awful sorry for even attemptin’ to get in the way of such beauty.”

  “Perfectly all right, my good man,” sniffed one of the women. Emmeline couldn’t see her, but she imagined a tall, stout figure in a stiff, dark dress, her hair in a tight bun and her mouth puckered like an elasticized stocking. “Be on your way now.”

  Emmeline almost shrieked when she felt Thing topple forward—but he was just bowing. She used the opportunity to renew her grip on his neck, and she felt him twitch as she did so.

&n
bsp; “Most gracious of you, milady,” he said, sounding a bit choked.

  “Quite,” said the woman, and Emmeline heard the tap-tap of her heels as she walked away. Thing shambled on at a faster pace.

  “Could ya quit yer attempts to strangulate me?” he whispered. Emmeline tutted and shifted her grip, but he kept grumbling under his breath anyway. To keep her mind off her bladder, Emmeline tried to peer out from under the blanket. She could just about make out people grimacing as Thing approached and quickly skipping out of his way. Someone, she was sure, was going to report him. Did you see that strange old man with the crooked back? I wonder if he has anything to do with this missing child….

  Terrified, she slammed her eyes shut and buried her face in the back of Thing’s neck.

  “Psst,” Thing whispered after a few minutes. “This’ll have to do.” She heard the creak of wood giving way, like he’d forced open a cabin door, and before she could say or do anything, he’d stepped through and closed it behind them. Without waiting for him to tell her the coast was clear, she slithered down off his back, angrily blowing her hair out of her face.

  “What are you doing? Where are we? Are we in…” Her words trailed off as something caught her eye. It was a long golden cloak made of the finest, lightest silk she’d ever seen, and there was a diamond-capped—diamond-capped!—ladies’ walking stick right beside it. A feathered hat, magnificently plumed, was perched on the same hook as the cloak, and there were at least three other beautiful outfits hanging on either side of it.

  “These folks can afford you the use of their pot,” said Thing with a grin. “Just be quick about it, right?” Emmeline didn’t need to be told twice, but she did pause long enough for a look around. This cabin was gigantic—at least five times the size of hers, and with its own bathroom. There was a massive bathtub, complete with gold taps, and the sink was big enough to take a swim in, and the toilet itself was polished to an eye-watering shine. Emmeline had never been so glad to see anything in all her life.

  Just as she was washing her hands, Emmeline heard a thump, shortly followed by rapid muttering and the sound of Thing impatiently rattling the doorknob. She stretched to unlock the door.

  “Outtamywayouttamyway!” he hissed, barreling through and almost knocking her down.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked as Thing threw a panicked gaze around the room. There was something strange about the front of his overalls, but Emmeline couldn’t put her finger on it.

  Thing’s whole body was taut, like a trapped animal. “There’s voices out in the passageway, is what. Someone’s comin’, is what.”

  “But—no! What are we going to do?”

  “Workin’ on it,” snapped Thing, still glancing around the room.

  “…but that’s so darling!” came a woman’s voice from the main cabin. “I mean, really, Clarence! Have you ever seen such a darling thing!”

  “Quite certain I haven’t, dear. Simply the darlingest thing in existence,” replied a man. His bored-sounding drawl sent a shiver of horror right through Emmeline. She looked at Thing and he carefully placed a finger over his lips. Keeping his eyes on hers, he pointed to the bathtub. Emmeline didn’t understand for a moment, and then it hit her—there was a porthole just above it, so if this room was anything like hers, the deck lay outside. But the window looks so small….

  “What time is dinner this evening, Clarence?” The lady sounded like she was close enough to touch. Emmeline imagined her removing another beautiful cloak and hanging it up along with all the others.

  “Six, I believe, m’dear. Shall I have time for a sherry before we dine?”

  The lady murmured a response, but Emmeline and Thing were concentrating so hard on staying quiet as they began their long, careful journey toward the tub that they didn’t hear it.

  “I say, Clarence. Clarence!” The lady’s voice exploded across Emmeline’s brain, making her jump. “Come here for a moment, would you?”

  “Whatever’s the matter?” A newspaper rattled.

  “Clarence! Put down that blasted Times and come over here, this instant! One of my garments is missing.” Thing turned to Emmeline, his eyes wide. So that explains the lump under his overalls, she thought. She glared at him before picking up the pace. Without making a sound, Thing climbed into the tub and reached up toward the porthole window. As carefully as she could, Emmeline climbed in after him, hoping the whole thing wouldn’t tip over, or creak, or otherwise give away their location.

  “Yes, dear,” said the distant Clarence. “Are you quite sure you brought it?”

  “Of course I’m sure! Clarence, honestly! I had Sara pack everything I thought I’d need for this trip, and that included my short sable!”

  A harrumph was heard as the unseen Clarence presumably rose to his feet, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps as he crossed the cabin.

  Emmeline looked up to see Thing struggling with the porthole. His face was red with effort.

  “Well?” trilled the lady, her voice humming with impatience. Emmeline glanced back at the still-closed but unlocked bathroom door.

  “Well what? How is one supposed to see what is no longer there?” asked Clarence. Emmeline’s ears pricked up as Thing let out a gasp of frustration. Silently she gestured to him to move.

  “Well, is this or is this not exactly where I placed my short sable? Hmm?”

  “I’m quite sure it is, dear, yes. If you say so.”

  “Clarence, you’re impossible,” sighed the lady. “I insist we summon the captain now. Someone has clearly been through our stateroom with sticky fingers.” Right at that point Emmeline’s own fingers were aching. The porthole window’s seal was exactly the same as the one in her own cabin, but ever so slightly stiffer. Just a few…more…seconds…

  “Now, now. You know there’s a missing child, and the captain is understandably more concerned about that. Perhaps we should wait until we dock, and then—”

  As soon as these words were uttered, the porthole window opened with a loud, sucking pop. For one long moment Emmeline and Thing stood gaping at each other, before Emmeline started unstrapping her satchel. She would barely fit out the window as she was, but with the satchel, too…

  “Clarence, did you—did you hear something?” The lady’s voice quivered, but it put a rod of steel down Emmeline’s back. She threw the satchel out the window, and as fast as she could, she put her foot into Thing’s cupped hands. He heaved her up, and she almost clanged her head on the porthole’s metal frame.

  “Perhaps—perhaps we should summon the captain after all,” warbled Clarence. Emmeline’s head was outside now, and she was struggling to fit her shoulders through. Desperation gave her strength, and she flailed around just enough to get loose. She fell out onto the deck with a plop and immediately got to her feet again, strapped on her satchel, and readied herself to help Thing.

  “Clarence!” she heard faintly as Thing burst out of the porthole. He twisted in midair and landed on his feet, and before Emmeline even had time to draw a breath, he shouted:

  “Run!”

  There was no time to think, or speak, or pause for breath—Emmeline and Thing simply ran as hard as they could. The satchel jiggled up and down on Emmeline’s back, and from the tinkling sound, she suspected something inside it had been broken. Not the hydrogen sulfide, she thought mournfully. She’d hate to lose that.

  “This way!” Thing shouted every few steps, or “No! This way!” as they tried to dodge as many peering eyes as they could. They tore past a line of dozing people on deck chairs and bumped right into a heavily laden waiter with a tray of drinks as they raced around a corner without looking.

  “Sorry!” yelled Emmeline.

  “Shut it! Whoop!” shouted Thing. “No talkin’!”

  “S-sorry!” she whispered. She risked a glance back over her shoulder, but all she could see were some people helping the waiter up and picking his tray off the ground. Nobody was shouting their names or chasing them, and maybe, just maybe—
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  WAAAaaaaaaauuuaaaaAAAAAAauuuuuuuaaaaaAAAAAaauuuuu…

  “What on earth is that?” gasped Emmeline as they rounded another corner.

  “Siren,” answered Thing. “For—whoop—fire, or ’mergency, or whatever.”

  “There’s a fire?” exclaimed Emmeline.

  Thing shot her a look. “Just get in there, an’ put a sock in it,” he muttered, shoving her toward a canvas-covered lifeboat, which seemed, to Emmeline’s eye, rather insecurely lashed to the side of the deck. A small corner of the canvas was loose, and it was short work to make the hole large enough for them both to clamber through.

  “We’re the emergency, aren’t we?” she asked quietly once they were hidden.

  “Bingo,” whispered Thing. “Now button it.” They crawled beneath a pile of coiled-up rope and spare canvas, and listened closely to what was going on outside. They heard whistles and shouting and lots of pounding, thundering feet.

  “What the blazes is going on?” they heard. It sounded like Clarence. “My wife is in an hysterical condition! I demand…” His voice faded away as he lumbered past.

  “I’m sure I saw them go this way!” shouted another voice. “Come on!” Emmeline shrank down as small as she could, barely daring to think in case she did it too loudly. Thing was having a horrible time trying to breathe quietly—his tiny, mournful whoops sounded so painful that Emmeline felt very sorry for him. She caught his eye and he nodded, giving her a thumbs-up, but she knew he was lying.

  Eventually, the hullabaloo died down. Thing’s lungs rattled, and his face was a strange color, even under the canvas, where everything looked odd.

  “Think I might—whoop—think I might go an’ have a look-see, right? You stay put.” Thing moved, ever so slowly, toward the edge of the lifeboat, making straight for the loose flap of canvas.

  “No—wait!” Emmeline could already feel her heart hammering in her throat.

  “It’s fine!” whispered Thing. “Jus’ keep yer cool, okay?”

  Emmeline watched as Thing gingerly peeled back the canvas covering their hiding place. He blinked a bit in the light, and carefully he poked his head up just enough to see over the side. He looked around in all directions, and finally he stuck his head right out. Then he ducked back inside the boat and held out his hand to Emmeline.