Airborn (13 page)

“It’s gone. It’s okay,” I panted, standing with my arms out, knees bent, watching. There was nothing to see, not so much as a ripple of leaves.

“Wasn’t he just the sweetest little thing?” I said, and started giggling.

“I’m sure he only wanted to say hello,” Kate added, giggling too. “I must remember to bring one back for Miss Simpkins.”

“There’re no snakes here, by the way,” I told her. “I’m completely sure of it.”

“Well, there shouldn’t be,” she said stubbornly.

“Then how’d you know that one was poisonous?”

“I’m pretty sure I saw it in a book,” Kate said, and then she screamed.

I whirled to see the snake springing up from the
ferns and bouncing toward us, fast. This time we turned and ran. Kate hiked her skirt up high and held it bunched in one hand so she could take proper strides. Every time I looked around, the snake was still there. I wanted to laugh and scream at the same time. The little creature was ridiculous. It was terrifying, and it was also gaining on us.

“The tree!” Kate gasped, heading for an enormously thick tree with huge jutting branches.

“That safe?” I shouted.

“Think so.”

“
Think
so?”

“Snakes can’t climb.”

Which I didn’t think was at all true, but Kate was already at the tree and trying to get up the lowest branch. It was about five feet off the ground, and her boots skittered off the bark, and her skirts kept getting in the way. I looked over my shoulder and there was our little red friend sailing toward us and only needing two or three more leaps before we had a happy reunion. I grabbed Kate’s waist and heaved her up, giving her backside a push for good measure. One of her heels caught me in the cheek, but she was up, and then it was my turn.

“Make room!” I shouted. It was an easy jump for
me. I was up in a trice and sliding my belly over the branch.

Below I could see the little red snake bounce straight up at my face, and I thought it was going to bite me on the nose. I recoiled, scrambling into a sitting position. The snake was a few inches short of the branch, and down it fell, but then it just bounced up again, and again, intent on reaching us. This snake was no quitter.

“Maybe one more,” I said to Kate, nodding at the next branch up. It was a great broad flat thing, sticking out horizontally from the trunk and mostly shrouded in a cascade of hanging vines from high above. There was an easy way up, for many stunted branches stuck out from the trunk, making a kind of spiral staircase.

“This way!” I stepped up the little branches toward the bigger one. I glanced down and couldn’t see the snake anymore. It had given up jumping.

“Never climb a tree in a long dress,” Kate panted, coming up behind me.

“I’ll remember that,” I said.

She had hiked her skirt up again, so high that I could see her gartered stockings. I tried not to look. She had knotted the skirt around her hip so she would not need to hold it.

We climbed. Crouched over, I pushed my head through the curtain of vines. Something hard knocked against my cheek, and I jerked back with a grunt.

“What?” I heard Kate shout behind me.

But I could not answer. I had stopped breathing. It was just inches away from my face. I could only gaze at the head that was staring at me from its eyeless sockets. Its fangs seemed enormous in its fleshless jaws. I forced breath into my lungs.

“It’s dead,” I said.

I made room for Kate on the broad branch, and cautiously she crawled through the vines.

“Oh, my goodness,” she breathed.

It was not just a skull but an entire skeleton, hunched down against the branch like something about to pounce. I wondered how long it had been here. Insects hummed and trilled and danced in the heat. Light slanted through the vines. The bones gleamed. Its claws were locked deep into the bark in its final death grip. Its flesh had been picked clean, but its bones were still miraculously attached, bound together by sun-cured sinew and leathery bits of muscle. It was easily seven feet from head to tail. It had died on this very branch. It had been here forever, just waiting to be discovered.

I looked at the long, flat skull, the fangs curving from the upper and lower jaws.

“It’s a panther,” I said to Kate.

“No…”

“Or some other kind of big cat—it’s got to be.”

“It’s not.”

“We should get out of here. There might be others around.”

“Look at it, Matt.”

I didn’t understand what I was seeing. The skeleton was all crumpled up along the branch, collapsed in on itself. I could make out the long, knobbly chain of vertebrae clear enough, and the rib cage, though some of the bones there were cracked or flattened. The legs I wasn’t too sure about, for they were folded at odd angles alongside the body, getting mixed up with the other bones.

“Its front legs…” I said, frowning.

They weren’t right. They were too long, especially the lower bones. They went on forever and ended not with a proper foot, but with a spray of whip-thin bones fanning out across the branch, trailing over the sides. I’d never seen anything like it.

“Those aren’t legs,” Kate said. “They’re wings.”

She was looking at me, her face flushed and shiny with sweat. Her breath came in little shaky pulses.

“How do you know?” I said. “How can you tell they’re wings? It’s just bones now.”

She scrambled closer to the skeleton. “Those are its fingers,” she said, pointing at the long thin bones. “They help support the wing. Have you ever seen a bat’s skeleton? It’s a bit like that. These are wings.”

I nodded, remembering the sketches in Benjamin Molloy’s journal. I’d seen giant flying foxes in the Dutch East Indies. They sometimes had wingspans of six feet, but their bodies were no bigger than a rat’s. This creature was much, much larger.

“This is no bat,” I said, swallowing.

“No.”

The exact same thought must have been bounding through both our heads, but I wasn’t ready to say it yet.

“But how could a creature this big fly?” I asked.

Kate leaned in close and gingerly picked up a large piece of fractured rib bone that had fallen on the branch. She smiled and handed it to me. My hand actually floated up as my fingers closed around it, for I’d been expecting something heavier. This bone was light as air. I held it balanced in my palm and could barely feel its weight.

Kate took it back.

“Look,” she said, holding the fractured end up for me to see. In the slanting light, I could see the bone wasn’t solid inside. It was a honeycomb of air and slivery struts.

“Like a bird’s,” she said. “To make them light. Imagine, if all his bones were hollow, he wouldn’t weigh much. And those wings. I’m trying to imagine them all stretched out. Four feet each, what do you think? An eight-foot span?”

“More. Nine or ten, I’d say.”

“Enough for flight?”

I nodded. “Enough sail to take him airborne.”

Her eyes widened. “And look here.” She was pointing around the creature’s rib cage. “Look at its breastbone. See, it’s got a kind of keel on it.”

“To hold the ribs together, to make them stronger,” I said. I knew what a ship’s keel was for.

“And to give the wings strength,” Kate added. “That’s where all the muscles would attach. Birds are the only creatures that have them.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Books,” she said.

I looked again at the skeleton. “So you’re saying this is some kind of big bird now?”

“Absolutely not. In a bird’s wing the metacarpals are all sort of fused together so it looks like just one
digit. This creature clearly has five.”

I shook my head, not understanding.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Just look at the skull. If it’s a bird, where’s its beak? Do you know any bird that has jaws or teeth like that?”

“Or a long tail,” I said, looking at the skinny line of vertebrae trailing on the branch. I needed to touch it again. I lifted the broken rib bone in my hand, felt its weightlessness. I felt weightless too, and hungry. I would drift right off the branch soon, up into the sky.

Since I’d last slept, pirates had boarded the
Aurora
and sunk her, we’d crash-landed on a desert island, and Kate and I had discovered the skeleton of some strange creature halfway up a tree. It had a bat’s wings, the hollow bones of a bird, the head of a panther. It was like nothing anyone had ever seen. I touched the dry hard bone of its skull. I didn’t know what it was, or what to call it.

“It’s one of them,” said Kate. “It’s just the way he described in his log. You can see that, can’t you?”

I remembered her grandfather’s careful sketches of skeletons. The human. The bat. And then the weird hybrid creature. It was just as he’d imagined.

“Yes,” I said.

“It’s real, isn’t it?” Kate said.

I nodded.

“They exist. They really exist.” She was staring at the skeleton. She was crying.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“He was right,” she said. “Grandpa.”

I nodded, surprised. Had she ever doubted him? She’d seemed so sure always. Or maybe it was just relief and excitement and exhaustion all swirled up together. It made me feel like crying too. Kate wiped her eyes, sniffed. I wanted to touch her but didn’t dare.

“It seems almost wrong to disturb it,” she said. “It’s so perfect. But I want the bones. I’ll need to take some photographs first. Just as it was when we found it. That way we’ll know how to put the bones back together. We could number them too.” She nodded, pleased with this idea. “Yes, we’ll number them. I’ve got a special wax pen that should work.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

It seemed she had no end of scientific gear with her. I marveled that it all fit on the ornithopter that brought her to the
Aurora.

“You’ll be able to find this place again, won’t you?” she asked me.

I couldn’t help smiling. “Well, I haven’t really
been paying attention to where—”

“Oh, don’t joke!” she said, grabbing my arm.

“Yes,” I said, “yes, I’ll be able to bring you back.”

She let go of my arm. I liked the way it felt when she’d squeezed.

“Bit of a slog carrying your camera and gear up, though. I suppose we could get someone to help.”

“No.”

She said it most emphatically, and I didn’t understand.

“We’ll tell no one.”

“What about the captain?”

She shook her head gravely.

I laughed. “We’ve got to tell the captain, at least!”

“Why? Is it ship’s business?”

“Well…”

“It has nothing at all to do with the ship or her well-being.”

“I suppose not, but why keep it secret?”

Her face had a hardness I’d not seen before. “If we go back and tell the captain, you know what will happen. He’ll forbid us from coming back to take pictures.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Or at best he might send some of the crew to come and collect the bones, and then it’ll be taken
from me. Put into the right hands, they’ll say. Let experts take care of these things.”

“The captain’s a fair man.”

“I’m sure he is. But you remember the letter they sent me, those important gentlemen from the Zoological Society. Turn your attention to more ladylike pursuits. They’d just take it away from me, and I won’t put up with it. This is our discovery, Matt. If we tell them, they’ll take it away from us. They’ll treat us like children.”

She had a point.

“Promise me you won’t tell.”

I said nothing for a moment, uncomfortable. I felt like she was making me choose between her and the captain, her and my ship. But maybe she was right: strictly speaking, this had nothing to do with the
Aurora.
It was something else entirely.

“So we’ll just come back to the ship with a big bag of bones. Look at all the mangoes we collected, everyone.”

“No one has to know what’s inside.”

“They might not be too keen to take on more cargo.”

“It’ll be light,” she said with a grin. “I’ll make room in one of my steamer trunks.”

“All right,” I said. “It’s a secret.”

“Our secret,” she said. “And when I get back home I’ll contact the Zoological Society. I’ll have photographs, the bones, the journal. They’ll have to believe me and my grandfather then.”

The
Aurora
was beached like a whale, but getting home was a certainty for her. She’d already leapfrogged time in her head, not just to her homecoming but to some glorious future. I wondered where I’d be then.

“I almost hate to leave it,” she said. “Afraid it won’t be here when we get back.”

“It’s not going anywhere.”

As I stared at the skeleton, I imagined muscles and sinews and tendons fusing with the bones, skin and fur growing over it all. I looked at the skull and pictured the jaws opening wide, a flash of life in the eye sockets. A bird shrieked, and I jerked.

“Come on,” I said, “we should be getting back now.”

I’d been hoping that when we returned Kate would just melt back in with the other passengers on the beach, and I would slip unnoticed aboard the
Aurora
and report late for duty. And that would be that. But as we neared the beach we could hear Miss Simpkins’s voice. We peeped out from behind a palm. She was yelling at Mr. Lisbon. Worse luck, the captain was nearby, talking to some of the other passengers, and he had turned to see what all the fuss was about.

“What do you mean, you don’t know where she is?” Miss Simpkins was shrieking at the chief steward. “She might have been eaten by savages, or a snapping turtle, or some other monstrosity on this island you’ve crashed us on!”

I hung back behind the tree.

“Come on,” said Kate. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

She strode ahead, and as there was no point in lurking alone behind a palm all afternoon, I fell into step beside her.

“Hello,” Kate called out with a cheery wave. “I’m terribly sorry. Have you been looking for me? I didn’t want to wake you, Marjorie. You looked so fabulously peaceful, and I know how you hate to have your naps interrupted.”

“Kate, where on earth have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”

“Yes, I’m sure. I went for a stroll, just along the beach and then in among the trees for a bit. The scenery really is extraordinary here.”

By this time, Miss Simpkins’s gaze had settled on me with the weight of an anvil.

“He was with you, was he?”

The captain was nearing us, hands clasped behind his back, looking on.

“Of course,” said Kate. “He accompanied me.”

“Captain Walken!” said Miss Simpkins. “This is quite improper. Don’t think I haven’t been keeping an eye on all this. Your cabin boy there has been forcing his attentions on Miss de Vries.”

I blushed just to hear the words spoken.

“He’s done nothing of the sort,” said Kate severely. “I asked him to escort me on a walk into
the forest, and he kindly did so, on his off watch. He was a credit to his ship and captain.”

Miss Simpkins looked no less displeased. “Surely, Captain Walken, fraternizing with the passengers is forbidden the crew.”

“It seems to me, Miss Simpkins,” the captain replied, “that Mr. Cruse was only trying to accommodate a passenger’s request. Although it might have been more sensible to stay within sight of the ship.”

“Exactly what Mr. Cruse said,” Kate agreed. “He was most sensible. It was my idea to go farther afield. I’m sorry, Marjorie, for the worry I caused.”

“You were gone several hours!” protested the chaperone, gripping her hair as if it was about to blast off her head.

“Miss de Vries,” said Captain Walken, “perhaps it would be best for all involved if you stuck a little closer to home from now on, what do you say? Spare your poor chaperone the worry—and your parents too no doubt.”

Kate looked at me. “Mr. Cruse, thank you so much for escorting me, and I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you.”

“Not at all, Miss de Vries. Good day, Miss Simpkins.” I gave her a nod and turned back to the
ship, Captain Walken at my side.

“Am I right in saying this is the first time you’ve ever been late for duty, Mr. Cruse?”

My ears felt hot. “Yes, sir, I believe so.”

“After the rigors of last night a bit of sleep might have been in order.”

“I know, sir. But I couldn’t sleep.”

“Fair enough. But we need you safe and sound, Mr. Cruse. You’re too valuable to us to be off sightseeing. I see no need to make a note of this in your record. You may go about your duty.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He could have been much harder on me. Being late for duty was taken very seriously aboard an airship, and it was usually put in your record. The captain strode on ahead then turned round.

“Ah, Mr. Cruse, I’ve got a bit of good news for you.”

“Sir?”

“We’ve enough hydrium to lift off. Ah, see, I thought that would please you. But we’ll need to lighten first. And there’s more repairs yet to do. But she’ll fly again, Mr. Cruse. She’ll fly. Now to work!”

And backbreaking work it was, lightening the ship. The officers and captain had already made up
a list. We had to shed thousands of pounds, and the cargo holds were the obvious place to start. The bay doors were wide open, and the davits were swung out over the sides, lowering crates onto the sand. After that, we had to shift it by hand. We had no forklifts or trolleys. Try lifting a heavy crate with a team of other men, your feet sinking and slewing about in the sand with the tropical afternoon sun beating down on your neck, and sweat making your palms so slippery you worry you’ll lose your grip, as you stagger off toward the shelter of the trees to stack it all up as neatly as you can.

Still, every pound I lifted was a pound lighter for the
Aurora.
With every crate we took off, she would rise a little higher off the sand. The sailmakers had been working like galley slaves to seal off the leaking gas cells and were still patching the ship’s outer skin. It was my turn now to help heal the ship.

Knees aching, I helped lower yet another crate to the sand. I leaned against it, catching my breath. On the side was stenciled MCGAHERN’S RUBBER HOSING. This was the fifth one we’d shifted now, and who’d have thought it would be so heavy. It almost made me angry. We were breaking our backs carrying out crates of useless rubber hosing. How much rubber hosing did the world need?

“All right?” Baz asked, looking at me.

“Rubber hosing,” I grunted.

“I know, it’s absurd.” He sniffed, and we headed back to the ship for more. Across the beach passengers were sipping cocktails and chilled fruit juices now. It wasn’t often I wished I were serving rather than working on the ship, but now the thought was tempting. Off a ways from the main group I could see Kate. She’d brought out her camera and had it set up on a tripod. It was tilted toward the sky and had some big long lens that was probably telescopic attached to it. Her hand shielding her eyes, Kate swept the blue, bleached sky with her gaze. I knew what she was looking for. I looked up too but saw nothing except wispy clouds.

A beefy gentleman with one of those irritating bristly mustaches was standing beneath the cargo bay doors, watching us unload. He’d been there for a while, smoking a foul-smelling cigar. Now he was jabbing a sausage-shaped finger at the crate being swung out on the davit.

“Be careful with that one, all of you,” he commanded, spewing out noxious smoke. “That’s personal effects in there. Antiques. I don’t want any of them damaged. They’re in mint condition.”

“We’ll be as careful as we can, sir,” said Baz.

“And look here, I don’t like where you’re putting them. You can’t just leave it all out in the open like that. My antiques will warp in the heat, they’ll bleach in the sun!”

“We’ll cover them all in tarpaulins when we’re through, sir,” Baz grunted as we lifted. There were six of us on this crate, it was so heavy.

“See that you do,” said the man, circling around us as we carried his crate across the sand. “It’s disgraceful, this whole business.”

We could leave you behind instead, I wanted to say. But we can’t promise you won’t get warped in the heat.

“And how do you propose we’re to get our belongings back?” he demanded. “Have you thought of that?”

“A ship will be dispatched once we reach port.”

The man sniffed. “First pirates steal our valuables, now we’re expected to abandon the rest! And what if they’re ruined in the meantime?”

“Your insurance will cover the loss, sir,” I gasped as we staggered toward the trees.

The gentleman blew cigar smoke at me, his face screwed tight. “Fine for you to say. I don’t see you lot putting your things out on the beach.”

“Well, sir,” came the captain’s voice behind me,
“the lad, like most of his crewmates, has the clothes on his back, plus a second set, toiletries, and a few books and letters from home. That wouldn’t make much of a difference, now, would it? But if I asked them to, they would part with every last thing willingly. They know it would be in the best interest of the ship and all who sail on her.”

The gentleman said nothing, puffing on his cigar before turning on his heel and walking back to the other passengers.

“Please carry on, gentlemen,” said the captain. “You’re doing fine work.”

The sun was low in the sky, and pretty much the entire crew was out on the beach, manning the
Aurora
’s lines. In a few moments we’d see if she would fly again. Baz and I were off the ship’s starboard side. I’d untied my knot and left a few turns around the palm trunk, and we were both leaning back on the line, awaiting orders.

“Slowly now!” the captain called out, holding tight to his own line near the ship’s bow. “Let’s see how she’s doing.”

I knew right away she was stronger. I could feel the pull of her through the taut line. Hand over hand we let it out. My eyes were fixed on the
Aurora.

She shivered.

And then she lifted, and my heart lifted with her.

A huge cheer burst from all of us, crew and passengers alike.

She was lifting, and we were all cheering. Her belly, which had been nearly grounded, was now a few feet off the sand.

“That’s my girl,” I said under my breath.

“Let her come!” cried the captain. “Let her rise now! She’s our phoenix. She’s our homesick angel! Steady now!”

Her tail fin, badly crumpled, lifted free of the sand. We let the
Aurora
rise. She was properly aloft now, landlocked no more. My eyes were ablur, but I dared not take my hands off the line to wipe them. I watched as, inch by inch, she lifted higher.

“And hold her there!” cried the captain. “Tie her off, gentlemen, with your best knots. Make tight ropes of each and every line!”

We tied off. The
Aurora
’s belly had about seven feet of clearance now. She hovered there over the beach, and there was no finer sight to me in the wide world and all her skies and seas.

“Good heavens, look at you,” Baz said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “She’s all right, you know.”

“That’s why I’m blubbering,” I said, coughing
away my tears, swiping at my cheeks. I glanced up at him and saw his eyes were shining too.

“You’ve got me all emotional now,” said Baz, laughing. “Get a grip on yourself, young Matt Cruse. We’re all of us going home.”

“You’ll be a married man after all,” I said to him.

“She may not have me, now I’ve gone and kept her waiting.”

“You had the very best of excuses.”

“Pirates!” he said.

“Murderous pirates and a sinking ship and a crash-landing on a tropical island!”

“And let’s not forget my valiant acts!” Baz added. “I served cool beverages in blazing tropical heat; I helped shade the rich and privileged.”

“You’re a proper hero,” I assured him.

We were making our way back toward the ship where the captain and officers were already inspecting her underbelly. It was not a pretty sight.

“We can mend scrapes and broken bones well enough,” Captain Walken said. “Mr. Chen, what do you make of the tail fin and rudder?”

“A day’s work, sir.”

“Make it tomorrow’s work, then, Mr. Chen. I’ve worked you all like packhorses today. Aside from essential watch duty and cabin crew, you’re all on
shore leave for the evening!”

“Permission to give you three cheers, Captain.”

“If absolutely necessary.”

We gave the captain three great cheers.

“Now then,” he said, “I believe that our esteemed chef, Mr. Vlad, has been preparing something wonderful for dinner. I urge you to enjoy it. My heartfelt thanks to you all for your labors. Now I must go relay the good news to our passengers.”

The captain had allowed all the passengers back on board, and everyone in the dining room was in a merry mood that night. In the kitchen, I’d never seen Vlad happier. Earlier in the afternoon, he’d sent his four assistant chefs into the lagoon to catch fish and since had been slow-cooking them in great pits on the beach.

“Look at this,” he’d said to me, pointing a cleaning knife at an enormous colorful fish laid out on the kitchen counter. “Have you ever seen anything so lovely? Look at the texture of her flesh, here. You see? She is beautiful. The fish here are finer than any I’ve seen anywhere.” He sucked in his breath and looked across the kitchen at some distant mirage. “I could stay here, yes? Stay here and open a restaurant. People would come from all over the world to eat
fish such as this.” He pointed his knife at me. “You, Mr. Cruse, would you travel across the world for such a meal?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Good boy. You’re a good boy. Now go and tell my idiot cooks to hurry up with those mangoes.”

After they’d spent hours fishing, Vlad had sent his assistants climbing trees to gather coconuts and mangoes and pineapples. Judging from the smells coming from the kitchen and wafting across the beach, we were all in for an exotic feast.

All the windows were thrown wide, and the warm, perfumed night air filled the lounges and dining rooms. It still amazed me, the view from the windows: palms and sand and a turquoise lagoon, still aglow even as the sun sank below the horizon.

And there was Kate, sitting in her usual seat, but where was her chaperone?

“How is Miss Simpkins this evening?” I asked as I put the napkin on her lap.

“She’s feeling poorly. She’s retired to bed with a violent tropical headache.”

“Tropical headache?” I placed a hot roll on her side plate.

“Thank you. That’s what the ship’s doctor said, but I think he was simply being kind. I think she
just wanted to get back into her comfy bed. The beach was a little too stressful for her. Your ship’s doctor is rather dashing, isn’t he?”

“Is he?” I said, taken somewhat aback.

“He is,” Kate said firmly. “Now, look what I found.” She had a fat little book in her hand—how many books had she brought? I wondered—and flipped pages.

“I always thought Doc Halliday was kind of odd looking,” I muttered.

“There, look at this,” Kate said, pointing.