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I climb a rope ladder down the side of The Prodigal and step cautiously into the rowboat waiting at the bottom. Patience is holding the ladder in his strong hands, keeping the boat steady. It takes me a minute to find a seat amongst all the barrels and line that have been loaded into the boat, but once I’m sitting he lets go and gives us a little push off the side of the boat. Gull is at the oars; Splinters and Mags have managed to wedge themselves in their own spots amongst the barrels. We all sit quietly, listening to the faint dip and creak of the oars as we make our way towards the port.
It’s dark out, but most of the boats moored here have some lights on. As we pass them, I can overhear the rowdy sounds of crew singing or telling stories. I wonder if Old Sums ever got back to his story after we left. I look down into the deep dark water, but where I’d expected blackness I instead see a brilliant green light.
“Wha–“ I start to say, but catch myself. I can see now that they’re little circles and eddies of green that form wherever Gull’s oars break the water. Looking behind us, I see a trail of green showing our path. I remember hearing about phosphorescent plankton. I don’t want to ask, lest the rest of the crew realize I don’t know anything about the place that’s supposed to be my home.
Patience has been perched at the bow of the rowboat, leaning forward. He turns now and looks at the four of us. “Everybody know the plan?” he asks.
I look around: knowing stares from Mags and Splinters, but no words. I frantically shake my head no, and then, just to make sure Patience understands, I say it as quietly as I can, “No, no one ever told me.”
I can’t tell if Patience is put off by this or not. Either way, he looks at me and tries to explain:
“We’re hitting an Aldobrandi family warehouse, taking something really big out of it on the Founders Tide. Mateo, you’ll be the first one in. There’s a small opening in the water gate, so you’ll squeeze through and then get the gate open from the inside. Once the gate’s open, Splinters gets in there with the barrels and rigs our prize up to float. Then it’s Gull’s job to get it down the canals without attracting too much attention, to the safe house where I’ll meet you.” I give a nod. I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do to open a water gate, but the plan seems simple enough as I play through it. Then I look at Mags – Patience never mentioned her. “I’m your distraction,” she whispers slyly.
“Shh,” Splinters shushes us, and I see we’re close to the wharfs now. There are still barges being loaded and unloaded by lamplight. Darting in and out of the lamplight, I catch sight of thin kids with messy hair. They look like me, like the photo of my dad from the beach that Grandfather had. Wharf Rats – Corvino was right, I look the part.
We steer wide of the wharfs and instead enter a narrow waterway, ducking our heads as it passes under a low bridge. Once we’re under, Gull ships one of the oars and then lifts the other out of the oarlock and carries it to the back of the boat, where he plunges it vertically into the water, using it to pole the boat forward down the narrow canal.
We pass between a few of the large squat warehouses that sit by the wharfs. Each of them has a coat of arms and an inscription with a family’s name. I can make out a few of them: “Castellani,” “Venturi,” “Belmonte.” Gull turns the boat down another narrow canal, bordered on both sides by flat stone walls, then brings us to a stop. “This is the closest we can get without being seen,” he says softly. Patience nods.
Mags reaches up to the wall and finds some small ledge, pulling herself out of the boat. With surprising ease she scales the wall and is at the roofline in an instant. I study the wall, wondering how we’re supposed to follow her, when Splinters nudges me. Pulling my attention back to the boat, I see some of the barrels he and I had practised knots on earlier already floating in the canal. Gull and Splinters are carefully lowering the rest in while Patience holds the boat steady. Once the last barrel is in, Gull pulls a long pole from the floor of the rowboat and then quietly slides into the water, grabbing hold of the barrels. Splinters does the same and then gestures for me to follow them.
I’m not sure about climbing out of the safety of the rowboat and into the water. My life vest is still in the hold of The Prodigal, drying. Still, I figure if I hold the barrels like Gull and Splinters, they’ll hold me up, and besides, what other option do I have? Sliding into the warm canal water, I manage to get a hold of the line and hold myself up. With the boat empty now, Patience pushes off the wall and, taking up Gull’s vertical-oar approach, starts to move the rowboat away, turning back to the first canal, and then disappears around a corner.
I feel the barrels start moving, pulling me with them, and look over at Gull and Splinters. They’re pushing the barrels, kicking their feet underwater so they don’t splash. I join them, doing what I can, but I’m terrified that I’ll do the wrong thing and give us away. Looking up, I see we’re passing between warehouse buildings now. I hear voices and barely make out the tops of a few people’s heads. I stay low in the water, trying to kick as quietly as possible, hoping no one looks over at the pile of floating barrels seemingly going by them by itself.
“Here,” Gull’s quiet voice lets us know as he stops pushing. We’re at the back of a stone warehouse. A large wooden door is next to us; it goes down into the water. Above it is a coat of arms whose shapes I don’t recognize, and a name: “Aldobrandi.” This must be it.
“The bottom of the canal is muddy, and the gates don’t reach all the way to the bottom,” Gull tells me in a soft voice. “Swim down, get under it, and then you’ll be able to find the latch on the inside.”
I look at the huge door, tracing it into the dark water where I can’t see it. “This is crazy,” I think to myself. I can’t swim. I’m going to dive underwater and then what?
“Come on, we don’t have much time. The Founders Tide comes fast, and we can’t miss it,” Gull says with a note of panic.
I look at the door one last time, pull myself over to it, take a deep breath, and push myself under.
The water isn’t deep here; I’m barely under when my feet land in the soft mud. Using my hands, I reach down, finding the edge of the door, but there’s barely space to get my hands under. I feel around for a second, but I can feel my lungs burning, and I push my feet hard into the mud and push myself back to the surface.
“What’s wrong?” Gull asks, the panic now fully set in.
“There’s no space beneath it,” I tell him as quietly as I can.
“Maybe the mud built up because they didn’t open the door much,” Splinters pipes in quietly.
“Yeah, you should be able to dig it out a little and push through. Just hurry,” Gull says.
I dive down again, this time bringing my body lower to the bottom of the door. I get my fingers under and then scoop, pulling out a handful of mud, then another, and another. I can get my arm through now and feel the other side of the door, but my lungs are burning again, so I push back up to the surface.
“I can do it,” I say softly as Gull and Splinters look at me, worried. I take a deep breath and dive under. Finding the spot I’d already dug, I pull at the mud. Both arms are through now; I dig some more. I manage to pull my head under the gate, and kicking and pulling, I get my shoulders through and then halfway to my chest. All of a sudden I’m stuck. I wiggle, trying to get free of the mud, but I can’t seem to get any further under. I can feel my lungs screaming for air, and I go to push myself back, but I can’t. I kick and thrash, but it’s no use.
Then all of a sudden I feel a rush of water; it pushes me out from under the door. I manage to get my feet under me and push down hard on the muddy bottom, my head breaking the surface as I gasp for breath.
The room I’m in is pitch dark. I can’t see anything. I’m barely staying afloat, thrashing around, until my hand connects with a hard stone. I reach out with both hands, grabbing at it, and manage to get my palms firmly planted on the top, pulling myself out of the water and onto the stone.
I know I don’t have time to waste, so on my hands and knees I trace the edge of the water to the door. There, about halfway up, is a large wooden beam. It’s too heavy to lift. I can feel water on my feet now. The Founders Tide that Gull had mentioned must be coming in. I know we have to hurry. The beam extends past the edge of the door a little, and then I feel it: a large metal bolt. A pivot! I go a bit further from the gate and then push down hard on the beam. It moves easily; it must be counterweighted at the other end. Then the door swings open, and the faint light from outside lets me see Gull and Splinters and the barrels as they’re swept into the warehouse.
The water level is getting higher now; it’s nearly to my ankles. Splinters has a small oil lamp that’s been waterproofed. He lights it, handing it to Gull, and at last we can see the inside of the Aldobrandi family warehouse.
The warehouse is mostly empty, with a few large wooden boxes stacked here and there throughout, but then I see it and let out a gasp that draws hard looks from Splinters and Gull.
Sitting on a raised platform, secured by a set of wooden blocks, is what is unmistakably a shipping container. Its corrugated metal sides are painted a dull maroon. A white bird is on one side, with a set of Chinese characters printed beneath it. I must have seen a thousand containers like this one coming by train through Ashburn, bound for ports in BC or Montreal, but what is one doing in the 8th Sea?
“That’s our prize,” Gull says softly, sizing up the container.
“Here, help me,” Splinters whispers to me as he pulls the barrels and rope from the water. I grab one end, and we start to drag it around the container: eight barrels on each side. Then, one by one, Splinters and I toss lines under and over the container and start to tie them off, securing the barrels. The hours drilling in the hold have left my hands practised at tying these knots now.
“What do you think this is?” Splinters asks as we work. I bite my tongue.
“Couldn’t tell you,” Gull says, “but Thale’s going to pay a pretty penny for it.”
“Thale?” I ask.
“Our buyer,” Gull answers. “Best not ask too many questions about him,” he adds.
By now the water is up to my knees. I’ve done five of the barrels, just three left. Once we finish securing the barrels, if we knock out the wooden blocks from under the container, it should float right out the door. Then I feel it, a pulling, and the water starts to recede.
“The tide!” Gull says, terrified. “We have to go now.” He cups his hand to his mouth and gives a call that sounds exactly like a seagull. Hurriedly I tie the knot in my hand. Six done, then I move on to the next. “No time!” I hear Splinters shout, and then I feel the container tip as the block near where he’s standing gets kicked out. I eye the block near me and land a solid kick. The block doesn’t move. “HOLD TIGHT,” Gull shouts, giving my block a kick. It dislodges, and the container tips forward. I hastily throw together one last knot and then grab a line and hold tight as Gull runs to the back of the container and gives it a shove. It slides off its pedestal and straight out into the canal, dragging us all with it.
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