~ ~ ~
My lungs are burning. I want to open my mouth and gasp for air, but the surface of the water is above me. I’m kicking and thrashing my arms.
Then I feel a hand on my waist and I’m moving, up, up, and my head is above the water and I open my mouth and take a deep breath.
“Come on up, little one,” Patience says from the rowboat, offering me a hand. I’m pulled in and slump down next to Gull. He’s still wearing the life vest but seems to be stirring, although his eyes are still closed. I look around. Corvino isn’t there. Then I see Patience lean over the side and pull the Captain up out of the water.
“I thought you’d gone to Davy Jones for a moment,” Corvino tells me, slapping me on the shoulder. “You’ll be learning to swim properly if you’re to join my crew.”
As Corvino sits, Patience is quick to the oars and we’re moving. Looking ahead, I see The Prodigal anchored nearby. I can just make out the movement on the deck as people seem to be getting ready to sail. Join the crew. Corvino’s words sit with me. Only a few minutes ago I’d given up on him coming back and been ready to spend the rest of my life kept by Thale. But now, maybe he wasn’t lying about his pirates’ code? When he’d swum out of the cave, I’d thought I’d lost the compass. Now, as we row towards The Prodigal, I know there’s still a chance to find my dad and get back home.
Back on board The Prodigal, Patience is barking orders: bring up the boat, raise the anchor, open the sails. Corvino pulls me aside. “You’ve had a long night, Mateo,” he says softly. “Best to get some rest below decks.”
“Thank you,” I say, grateful for the chance and not wanting to press the question of the compass right away. I’m heading for a hatch just as I hear the shouting.
“STORM WINGS!” It’s Anvil’s voice, and the rest of the crew picks it up.
“Barnacles!” Corvino curses, running to the helm. “Full sail! Weapons out!”
At the shouts, the demeanour on the deck changes. The sails are opened fast, and I can feel us moving forward. I see the anchor brought on deck and hastily stowed. Mags has emerged from a hatch carrying a chest. It’s heaved onto the deck, and I see a jumbled collection of cutlasses. The crew is grabbing them and taking up positions around the deck. Feeling useless, I run to the chest and grab a sword. It’s heavy and awkward in my hand.
“This one!” It’s Anvil. He’s standing beside me and hands me a shorter sword with enough space on the handle for me to get two hands on it.
“Thank you,” I say as he limps off with a cutlass in his fist.
I scan the horizon, but I don’t see any ships. I glance over at Mags, who is standing beside the weapons chest; she’s staring up at the sky. I follow her gaze and then spot it.
High above us is the shape of a bird, circling, but at that distance it seems too big to be any bird I’ve ever seen, and there’s something else, something on its back?
As I watch, the bird’s shape changes, its wings folding in, and then it seems to get bigger and bigger.
“DIVING!” Mags yells out, steadying herself.
I can see it clearly now. A large hooked beak, brown feathers, and wings tucked to the side. The bird itself must be the size of a horse. On its back is a small figure wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a long leather jacket – the boy from Thale’s house.
He’s almost on us when the boat swings heavily to port. The bird opens its wings and catches itself, turning and climbing for another dive.
“DIVING!” Mags calls out again as the bird tucks its wings in, but this time they anticipate our manoeuvre. The bird and rider swoop across the deck, lifting Old Sums from his post by the rail and throwing him into the sea. The boy jumps from the bird as it passes low over the deck, rolling to a crouch and springing to his feet.
Splinters runs at the boy, cutlass drawn, but the boy is faster with his whip and pulls Splinters’ feet out from underneath him. Splinters goes down hard, and before he can get up, the boy kicks him in the face, knocking him out.
I see Corvino still at the helm, his eyes on the sky, watching as the giant bird circles again. The boy on the deck has turned and is making a run at Corvino now.
Grasping the short sword tightly in my hand, I race after him, determined to stop him.
Before I can catch up, Corvino sees the boy coming and manages to get his cutlass drawn. The boy’s whip cracks, but Corvino uses the wheel as cover and then springs at the boy. Close up, the boy’s whip is useless, and Corvino thrusts and slashes, but the boy is quick and reads Corvino’s every move.
Then I see it: the giant bird, swooping low to the boat again. “WATCH OUT!” I cry, but it’s too late. The bird snatches up Corvino, who screams out in pain. I watch as the bird starts to climb, but Corvino still has his sword. He slashes wildly at the bird’s legs, and there’s a loud cry as the bird opens its talons and drops Corvino.
I see Corvino fall. It feels like forever, and then he hits the deck hard with a thud. I run to him. He’s bleeding from his side, and one of his legs is twisted, probably broken, but it seems like he’s breathing.
I look up and the boy is bearing down on me now. I stand defiantly, holding the sword in front of me.
Crack – the whip lashes out, stinging my hand, and I drop the sword. I reach to grab it, but – crack – another lash from the whip, this time wrapping itself around my wrist. The boy gives the whip a tug and pulls me to the deck, and then starts to drag me towards him. His eyes are cold and blue, and he stares at me as he pulls me towards him.
All of a sudden, something small and brown hits the boy in the head. He turns, loosening his pull on the whip. I’m able to pull it free from my wrist.
Across the deck, Weevil is throwing the clay cups from the crew’s meal. The boy swats the next one out of the air easily and then lashes out with the whip. It wraps itself around Weevil’s throat, and the boy pulls it tighter as I see Weevil struggle for air. I lunge forward – this time the boy isn’t ready for me, and I slam into him, knocking him to the deck. It’s a quick scramble, but then I feel both his boots connect with my chest and throw me off him.
Scrambling to my feet and facing him, I see he’s dropped his whip. Quickly I glance around and see it just beside me. I dive for it, but he’s clocked it first and beats me to it, grabbing it and getting to his feet. He quickly kicks me once in the side, knocking the wind out of me, and then goes to kick me again when Mags and Patience come running, swords drawn.
I get to my feet and watch, but even two on one, the boy seems more than a match for both of them. He easily dodges both thrusts and swings.
Mags thrusts, but where the boy was standing only a second before is air. He spins towards her, grabbing the sword from her hand and turning it to parry a blow from Patience.
Now armed with a sword, the boy and Patience duel along the deck, trading blows on each other’s swords. At first they seem evenly matched, but then I notice it: the boy is leading, turning Patience. “THE HOLD!” I yell, but Patience has already taken the step, turning to counter the boy’s thrust. His foot finds empty space where the hold was left open, and he tumbles down, slamming into the deck.
“BOOM!” I hear Anvil’s voice, and all of a sudden a large wooden beam swings wildly across the deck, trailing the loose line that’s been cut in two. The boy sees it, but it’s huge and wild, and as he dodges, he’s clipped by the beam and thrown over the side.
I see Mags run to the side of the boat, but before she can get there, the giant bird swoops up past the side and into the air, the boy on its back.
“TAKE THE HELM!” It’s Weevil shouting, and I realize he’s shouting at me. I look around; Corvino is laying on the deck, grasping his injured side but in no condition to stand, and somehow in the chaos I’ve managed to end up closest to the helm. I quickly run there and grab the wheel with both hands. Above us, the bird has climbed and seems to be getting ready for another dive. I take a deep breath and then wait. I see the wings tuck, and then I turn.
The wheel in my hand is sluggish, not like Inés’ sailboat. The Prodigal starts to turn, but I can tell we won’t escape this attack. The bird’s wings open, its talons out, and it tears at one of our sails before going up again. He’s going to leave us dead in the water. After that, we’ll be easy pickings.
Another dive. This time I anticipate it and turn hard just before. The boat is moving, but it’s still too slow.
Before it reaches our sails, though, the bird opens its wings and turns. Then I feel The Prodigal list to port, and from the starboard side what looks like a giant whale launches itself into the air. Its body stays vertical for half a second, and I can see it dwarfs our ship, and then it slams down, throwing a huge wave that crashes over our deck. Off to port, a huge jet of water shoots into the air.
“Leviathans!” the crew screams, and they start to gather in the centre of the boat. Another jet of water, this one to our starboard, and then two more off our bow and stern. We’re surrounded. Up in the air, the bird is circling but seems to be keeping its distance.
Keeping a hand on the wheel, I look back over the side of the ship. Just below the waterline, I can see the huge grey shape of the Leviathan. It’s nearly twice as long as the ship, with a tail fin the size of a school bus. Its front fins are long and winglike, resembling a humpback whale’s, but its head is blocky, more like a sperm whale’s.
“HELP!” I hear the cry before I spot him. There, hanging from a loose boom line and clinging on to the side of the ship, is Old Sums. He seems terrified but okay. “HELP!” he screams out again.
“Man overboard!” I shout, turning to face the crew. They’re all huddled in the middle of the deck; none of them move.
“Old Sums is off the starboard quarter,” I say, wondering if they didn’t understand.
It’s Mags who moves first, making her way to the edge and looking over.
“Weevil, Anvil, come help me,” she calls, crouching by the rail.
I don’t understand why they’re all acting like this. I look up, and the shape of the bird is still circling but seems to be trailing further behind us now, like it’s giving up. Are they afraid of the Leviathans?
Anvil stays frozen, but Weevil finds the courage and goes to the rail to help Mags, and together they manage to get Old Sums on deck.
I hold the wheel steady, occasionally feeling a little push as the Leviathans to our port and starboard nudge us onto some new course. I’m not sure where they’re taking us, but as long as they’re with us we seem to be safe from the boy and his bird.
It’s nearly nightfall when the Leviathan at our bow tips its huge tail fin into the air, diving down deep and leaving us. The ones to the port, starboard, and stern do the same. I check the sky, but the silhouette of the bird has been absent for many hours.
Down on deck, Corvino and the rest of the crew have been patched up. Gull is awake again, and Old Sums sits wrapped in a blanket, but they all still huddle together. Patience is the only one who has joined me up at the helm. After coming to and climbing out of the hold, he’d seen the Leviathans and stared in wonder before joining me.
“Do you want to take the helm?” I’d asked him.
“I cannot while these creatures guide us,” he’d told me.
“Why are they afraid of them?” I’d asked, gesturing at the crew.
“Because they don’t know their nature, and people fear what they don’t know,” Patience had said.
“You’re not afraid?” I’d posed it as a question, but it was clear.
“My mother’s people live their whole lives on boats following these creatures. They protect the creatures and in exchange the creatures show them where the best fish are.”
“Splinters told me your father did something…” I let it hang, both unsure of what the words Splinters had used meant and worried I’d overstepped.
“My father led Flensers – Leviathan hunters – to our family’s pod,” Patience had said stoically.
I understand. For a people whose lives are dedicated to protecting something, for his father to lead the very thing that they should be protecting them from is a betrayal.
With the Leviathans gone, Patience now offers to take the helm from me. I accept, feeling my hands relax for the first time in hours.
“They have led us to Black Tide Cove,” Patience tells me, pointing into the distance. Up ahead I can just barely make out lights and the shape of moored ships.
“Are we safe here?” I ask. Patience nods. “Black Tide is a pirate port,” he tells me, and then turns his attention back to the wheel.
Up ahead, the lights continue to grow larger and more distinct, and I think I can hear the distant singing of some rowdy pirate song.