Mistress of the Storm (26 page)

The events of the last six months flashed through her mind. How strange that it had all started with Abednego’s arrival and it should finish with him so near at hand. I
cannot help you more than I have done
, she heard him saying.

As she clung onto the upturned boat, soaked to the skin,
Verity’s consciousness threw out a desperate series of memories, like shutters opening up one by one.

‘The eye of the storm,’
said Henry in the reading room.
‘The calm at the centre of the gale.’

‘Surely there might also be a device that stills the weather,’
Jasper speculated in the library.

‘The Storm is coming,’
said Abednego once more as he took something from his pocket and placed it on top of her book. She remembered the infinite stillness in her room.

Verity’s mind made the final connection. She knew now what Abednego had meant. Still clinging to the boat with one hand, she rummaged in her sodden pocket for the strange wooden ball he had given her with the book. It was there. Verity pulled it out and held it tightly. She mustn’t drop it. She pushed and pulled at it – the eye of the
Storm
– grimly trying to remember how she’d opened it before.

She was now lying with her whole body curled around the centreboard, her hands scrabbling at the ball. All at once the seal opened. Her heart in her mouth, Verity spun the marble centre around in its casing, praying it would work. The curious eye turned to face her.

In an instant the squall disappeared. All was calm.

On the quay the people cheered and applauded. Amongst them men were shaking complete strangers by the hand and women were dabbing at their eyes with hankies.

On Jeb’s dinghy the three crew members hugged each other in jubilation. Henry exhaled with relief, then gave a
weak smile. ‘Didn’t think she was going to make it there,’ he said in as jokey a tone as he could manage. Jeb watched thoughtfully.

‘The eye of the
Storm
,’ Verity shouted, elated. She jumped up, standing recklessly on the hull. ‘
It’s the eye of the
Storm,’ she repeated.

On the
Storm
, Grandmother gasped. ‘It can’t be …’ she hissed. ‘How could …?’ She was livid. ‘How did she get that?’ she howled. ‘The thieving little guttersnipe.’ All self-control lost, she reverted for a second to her natural shape. Her death’s-head face, her petrifying skeletal limbs, the unmistakable odour of decay … all were revealed.

Miranda took a careful step towards her, still clutching the bundle that was Verity’s new sister.

‘Why don’t you rest for a while?’ she soothed. ‘Surely your crew can deal with a nuisance like her on their own?’

Grandmother glared balefully at Miranda for a second and then acknowledged the point. ‘Abednego,’ she bellowed in a gale-blast of fury. Her captain looked up in acknowledgement. ‘Set sail now,’ she ordered, striding across the deck towards her cabin. ‘You will notify me of any attempts to board.

‘Let her try if she wishes,’ she muttered, taking one final look out to sea. ‘It will save a task later.’

Henry, Jeb and Martha sailed up to Verity. Henry leaned out of the boat to help pull her in.

‘It’s the eye of the
Storm
,’ she shouted out. ‘It brings calm.’

‘Don’t stand on an upturned hull, you idiot,’ Henry scolded. ‘You’ll fall in again.’

Verity was riding high on a surge of adrenalin. She jumped into Jeb’s boat, making it rock and sway.

‘Easy,’ he warned.

‘Did you see me?’ she babbled. ‘Did you see? I think I did quite well really. I tried to remember everything I’d learned.’

It was the final straw for Henry. ‘Yes, we saw you,’ he snapped. ‘Trying to sail through a
squall:
it was a ridiculous thing to do.’

Verity stopped in mid-flow. Then it hit her. She had nearly died. Henry grabbed her and gave her a hug. She held onto him and sniffed. ‘Thanks for coming to get me,’ she said.

Henry let go. ‘ ’S all right.’

‘I still have to get to the
Storm
,’ she added tentatively, in case anyone thought they could talk her out of it. ‘I know it’s dangerous, but I’ve got to.’

Jeb, for one, had no intention of talking her round. He scanned the
Storm
, trying to see what was happening on deck. ‘Can’t spot the Mistress,’ he said, frowning. He stared up at the ship’s soaring masts and spars. There were crewmen climbing expertly up the shrouds. A man near the top unfurled the first gigantic square of cloth. They heard the ripple and crack as it filled with wind. Others were doing the same across the rigging.

‘They’re preparing to set sail,’ Jeb said anxiously.

‘She’s got my sister,’ panicked Verity. More sails were dropping across the square lattice of rigging. The crew went busily about their tasks on deck.

‘They’re not paying any attention to us,’ said Henry. Taking command, he turned to Jeb. ‘Tack now,’ he said. ‘I think we can make it.’

Jeb moved the rudder to swing the dinghy in the direction of the
Storm
.

‘You take the jib,’ Henry instructed Verity. ‘Martha, you and I will have to sit out: we need as much speed as possible.’

Martha just nodded. She was too scared to say or do anything now that they were in the middle of the wide, open sea and at the mercy of Verity’s grandmother.

Verity felt sick with worry as the dinghy began to pick up speed. The
Storm
looked impenetrable. Suddenly they heard an order relayed across her decks.

‘They’re weighing anchor,’ shouted Jeb.

The dinghy was racing along now, water splashing over the gunwales. Verity was still sodden from the capsizing of
Poor Honesty
. As they sped across the water, the wind chilled her to the bone. But all that mattered was getting to the
Storm
before she set sail; getting to her baby sister in time. The
Storm
’s best anchor clanked up out of the waves with a groan.

‘We’re not going to make it,’ she fretted.

At last they were gaining. As they approached, the
Storm
’s hull rose above them, dark and forbidding. A stray Jacob’s ladder was dangling down, swaying with the increasing movement of the ship. Jeb set a course straight for it.

The dinghy was soon right up against the
Storm
, completely dwarfed by the huge ship, still apparently unnoticed.

‘Your grandmother will probably be in the cabin suite,’ shouted Henry above the slap of the waves. ‘There’s a chance we could sneak in and steal your sister back.’ He tried not to think about the many, many flaws in this ridiculously simple plan.

Verity stared in horror at the swinging rope ladder. She couldn’t climb that. Henry was already reaching for it, apparently undaunted. With a leap he grabbed it and hopped up a few steps. He leaned back down for Verity. ‘Take my hand,’ he instructed.

Verity didn’t have time to think. She jumped, reaching
for Henry with one hand and the rope ladder with the other.

‘Don’t look down,’ Henry shouted as they swung to and fro against the hull.

Jeb got up to follow her. ‘No,’ said Henry commandingly. ‘You stay here.’

‘And let you board on your own? No way.’

‘You can’t leave Martha here with the boat,’ said Henry with authority. ‘Verity’s best chance of rescuing her sister is if one of us acts as a decoy and the others wait here to get them back to shore.’

‘So let me board the
Storm
,’ Jeb shouted.

Henry shook his head in reply. ‘You’re nearly a grownup. They’d show even less mercy to you than they will to me.’

Verity closed her eyes. The waves were sucking and swirling around the massive ship. The cold was closing in on her.

Jeb started to argue the point. ‘There’s no time for this, Jeb,’ Martha interrupted. ‘Verity needs to get moving. She’s freezing.’

Jeb stared helplessly at her. He didn’t like it, but she and Henry were right. At least if he stayed here there’d be a chance Verity might escape.

‘You can’t plan to stay on the
Storm
alone,’ he said finally.

Henry grinned. ‘Obviously I’ll expect you to come back for me – once you’ve got Verity and the baby home.’

*   *   *

Verity would never know how she made it up that precarious rope ladder. It was like scaling the walls of a fortress. Her hands were numb, scarcely able to grip. But Henry kept encouraging her.

‘Not much further,’ he said, looking down at her once more, smiling confidently.

Poking her head above the edge at last, she saw the vast wooden deck stretching out ahead of her. The imposing grid of masts and spars towered for hundreds of feet into the air. Even through her fear Verity couldn’t help feeling thrilled. The
Storm
was breathtaking.

She pulled herself up beside Henry. The two of them stood there, silent. The ship was vast and unbelievably noisy, but it was still astounding that no one had noticed their arrival.

‘That’s the cabin suite,’ Henry said in hushed tones, pointing to a door. ‘If I run to the other side of the deck and make a commotion, you might get a chance to sneak in.’

A few yards in front of them a crew member reversed towards them, apparently intent on swabbing the deck. The two stowaways watched the flamboyantly dressed man with his gold jewellery and vivid silk scarf. What should they do? How could they get past him?

But the sailor solved their dilemma for them. Dropping his mop, he swivelled round and grabbed both of them by their collars. He held them close and leered at them; he
smelled of spiced oil, stale rum and sweat. ‘Come to rescue her?’ he asked.

Verity’s heart plummeted. They had got no further than the rail.

‘Thought you’d just saunter aboard and take her back?’ Holding them both with one hand, he smacked Henry across the ear with the other.

The sight of her friend being hurt sparked Verity’s temper. She was furious – at her own stupidity, at their helplessness. ‘Leave him alone,’ she shouted.

The sailor raised an eyebrow. ‘Some of the Gentry spirit there,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to see if we can beat it out of you.’

Verity struggled to free herself, but the man just held them tighter still and lifted his other hand again. ‘Don’t think you’ll get any special treatment just because you’re a girl,’ he spat.

Looking up, he shouted for help. ‘Hey, lads. We’ve got callers.’

Within seconds a small gang had gathered around the two children: they dropped down from above; they appeared silently from each side; one jumped over the rail of the quarterdeck in his eagerness not to miss out.

Verity and Henry looked around silently at the hard-looking, weather-beaten crew. Assembled together, they were an intimidating sight. Henry tried very hard not to recall all the stories he’d heard about the crew of the
Storm
.

‘Very touching,’ said one sailor, ‘coming to rescue your baby sister.’

‘Do you know what we do with unwelcome guests?’ added another, reaching out to stroke Verity’s cheek as she instinctively flinched away from his touch.

‘Shall we kill them now or wait for the Mistress?’ asked the man in the silk scarf.

‘We could slice the girl quick and save this one for fun,’ someone suggested, staring aggressively at Henry. ‘Always fancied bringing the Twogoods down a peg or two … tearing them off a strip.’ The man mimed a cutting action then a whipping flick to make sure his meaning was clear. His colleagues laughed nastily.

Henry stared at the threatening man. ‘Do your worst,’ he muttered – and immediately received a punch in return. Verity felt sick at the sound of the sailor’s knuckles coming into contact with Henry’s body.

‘Oh, we will,’ he reassured Henry – who still refused to look cowed. Verity’s mind raced with fear. What had she been thinking? They’d walked straight into Grandmother’s lair. She was going to die; Henry too. And it was all her fault.

The
Storm
was now straining and swaying in the water: with her sails filled, she was held only by the lesser anchors. But all activity had ground to a halt as more of the crew gathered around Verity and Henry.

A silent shadow fell over them. Verity looked up. It was Abednego. Her heart jumped into her mouth. Whose side was he on? Perhaps only his own. He made his way through his men, who melted away to let him past.

Dressed in his embroidered coat and dark brown trousers, he stood there, towering over the two children. Seconds passed. ‘I ordered you to set sail,’ he said to his crew.

‘They’re stowaways, Cap’n,’ said one man uncertainly, thrown by their leader’s unexpected reaction.

‘You will leave them to me,’ said Abednego. There were a few disgruntled mutters, but he silenced them with one look. ‘Do you question me?’

Not one of the men ventured a word more. Verity held her breath in suppressed hope.

Suddenly the door to the cabin suite slammed open violently. ‘What is this
commotion
?’ shrieked a venomous voice. The crew looked up in alarm. The Mistress must have sensed the disturbance – like a spider detecting vibrations at the outermost reaches of its web. The old lady’s mood had clearly not improved. ‘I said I was to be notified,’ she barked.

The crew leaped into action, immediately busying themselves with their tasks.

Miranda kept pace with her benefactress. ‘Would you like me to hold the baby for you?’ she asked, keenly aware of how important it was right now to remain in the Mistress’s good graces. ‘It must be very tiring for you.’

The Mistress was in no mood to be charmed by anyone, but the crying brat was doing nothing for her nerves. She shoved the tiny bundle towards Miranda, who held the infant warily at arm’s length.

The old lady had reached Abednego now. It took her just a second to absorb the scene and come to the correct assessment.

‘You,’
she shrieked, turning to face him. ‘
You
gave the Gallant child the eye.’ Her disbelief was palpable.
‘After all I’ve done for you,’
she breathed, with an ice-cold draught of fury.

Abednego turned to face her, steeling himself to do so without fear. He had been preparing for this moment since he first sat on the floor of the library in Wellow and saw his own life in the book. Nothing she could do to him now would be any worse than the damage she’d already wreaked. He pulled the cherished peg doll from his pocket as witness.