35. In which there is trust in the captain, and mortal peril
IN WHICH THERE IS TRUST IN THE CAPTAIN, AND MORTAL PERIL
Elephant Island was a grey and barren place. Desolate and miserable.
Hester sat on a boulder with Fliss, looking out over the roiling sea.
They had been forced to sail along the coast soon after arriving four days ago, after they had discovered the tide would cover the stony beach.
However, the current site of their camp seemed safe enough, and as luck would have it, was right next to a penguin rookery.
The greasy, fishy taste coated her tongue long after eating the wretched birds.
Behind her, the tents were set, and one of the lifeboats had been turned upside down to provide shelter when one of the tents had been torn to shreds by the gusting wind.
Hester had spent a lot of time alone over the past few days, mulling over her plans.
Elephant Island was over eight hundred miles away from South Georgia, the nearest civilisation.
It was a shot in the dark, a journey so dangerous that no sane person would even think to attempt it.
Eight hundred miles in a tiny lifeboat, in the most unforgiving ocean on the planet, and she could not use her magic for fear of attracting Orcus.
But she couldn’t sit here and wait to die.
She had to go.
And leave Septimus behind.
“My plan,” Hester said, “is to take Winston and Peggy with me. We’ll leave before everyone gets up, in five days’ time, when we are sufficiently recovered to make another crossing.”
Fliss narrowed her eyes. “He won’t agree. He’ll never agree to staying here.”
She knew that. Knew it all too well. “I can’t allow him to come. He makes me feel things too strongly. He always has. My magic spills out, and Orcus will find us. I won’t risk it.”
“He would go in your place though, in a heartbeat. You needn’t make the journey. It doesn’t have to fall on your shoulders.”
“I brought us all down here. It is my responsibility, my task to get us home. You cannot talk me out of it, old friend.” Hester rested her head on Fliss’s shoulder.
Fliss sighed. “You’re as stubborn as a mule.”
“Oh, I could just eat a mule.”
“You’re being daft. Don’t change the subject.”
“If we don’t return with help in a month, Septimus should set out for South Georgia. I’m leaving you and Charlotte in charge.”
Fliss rested her head on Hester’s. “He’s going to completely lose it when he realises what you’ve done. You do know that?”
Of course she knew. She wanted to laugh, wanted it all to be a light-hearted joke, but she grimaced instead. “I know.” She wondered if he’d forgive her. Even if he didn’t, it would be worth it, to keep him safe.
“I want it noted that I disagreed with you,” Fliss said.
“It will be duly noted.” Hester cracked a smile. “I’ll leave him a letter.”
“Good God. Do you think he’ll forgive you?”
“I’ll have to write a very good letter. And make it back alive.”
“Eight hundred miles across the Southern Ocean, in a puny lifeboat?”
Fliss was right. The odds were extremely slim. “Winston is making her more ocean-worthy.”
Fliss clutched her hand, tears in her eyes. “But the chances of it—of making it to South Georgia—it is akin to finding a needle in a haystack. And if you miss…”
“If we miss, it will mean death. But it’s the only way to get help. The only shot we have. I trust Peggy to navigate us there.”
Fliss shook her head, still staring out to sea, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Hess.”
24th April 1916, Elephant Island
Five days had passed.
Hester was lying awake in the tent, wrapped in Septimus’s arms. It was early, long before the rest of the crew were due to get up.
The scrappy letter she’d penned last night rustled inside her sleeping bag.
Her bag lay packed, the harpoon she’d taken from Orcus lying beside it at the edge of the tent.
She took a deep breath, about to prise herself out of his arms, but he moved behind her.
Hester shut her eyes, pretending to be asleep.
He landed a soft kiss on her hair, and she heard a crunch of paper, then his footsteps leaving the tent.
What the Hell was he doing? She sat bolt upright and grabbed at the piece of paper he’d laid next to her. She unfolded it and read.
I know you will never forgive me for this, but eventually I saw no other option. Keeping you safe and well is my utmost priority. If I should not return, know that I love you to the deepest depths of the ocean. Take care of Sooty for me. S
The scheming son of a bitch!
Hester hurtled out of her sleeping bag, tore through the tent flaps and raced down to the shore. “How dare you?!” she cried, as Septimus, Frank and Alex hauled the Misfortune into the surf.
Septimus stopped, their eyes locking, his lips thinning.
“How dare you try to leave without me?” Hester waded into the water and dragged Septimus back to the beach.
Winston and Peggy, bags in hand, approached from their tents.
Septimus tucked a hand under Hester’s chin and forced her eyes up. “Hester, listen. This makes the most sense.”
“No.” Absolutely not. She would not allow it.
“Hester—what’s going on?” Winston asked. “I thought we were leaving. Why are they going?”
Septimus stilled. “It looks as if you were also trying to deceive me.”
Hester looked away, her cheeks blazing. “This is my fault. I should be the one who sails for South Georgia.”
Septimus sighed. “Stay here. Please.”
She balled her fists. “Absolutely not! I cannot believe this!”
“Lord above,” Septimus groaned, rubbing the furrow between his eyes. “You were attempting to do the same thing! Don’t deny it.”
Hester glowered, her face set in a snarl. “I will not back down on this. I’m going.” She could not risk him, not when she felt so deeply for him.
He brushed the hair from her face. “Then we go together.”
“We cannot go together. I refuse.” She dropped her voice. “Orcus will find us. I cannot control myself around you.”
“Let us face him together, if the need arises.”
The rest of the crew had crawled from their tents and stood looking warily between the pair. Fliss marched to Hester’s shoulder. “Let him go with you, Hess. I trust in you, but you stand more of a chance of getting to South Georgia if you both go.”
“Trust in the captain,” Arnold said, and the Valour’s crew repeated his words, “Trust in the captain.”
Charlotte stepped forwards and laid her hand on Hester’s shoulder. “You can face this journey. We have faith in you.”
Hester threw up her hands. This was utterly ridiculous. They didn’t know what they were talking about. “But you do not understand what lies in wait for me out there.”
“We face it together,” Septimus said.
“Valour in the face of fear.” Fliss rolled up her sleeve, the words inked there uncovered.
The rest of the crew followed suit, rolling their sleeves.
Hester’s eyes burned, and she looked to Septimus. His sapphire gaze held a determination she knew she could never break. Wouldn’t want to break. She closed her eyes, fists clenched, teeth gritted.
And she resolved herself. She would let Septimus come. They would fight together, should Orcus find them. And they would give him Hell. Septimus tugged at the tether between them, and her eyes snapped open. She fixed him with her most devilish grin.
“Come along then, my lord. It wouldn’t do to keep these fine folk waiting for our rescue.”
27th April 1916, Elephant Island
Charlotte’s thoughts never strayed far from wondering how Hester, Septimus and the small crew fared. The gales blowing across the island were ferocious, the sea swollen and angry.
Charlotte sat beside the blubber stove, skinning a penguin, huddled in her coat against the raging winds. Rufus, Valerie and Arnold sat around her, and Mei was crouched by the stove, cooking the one hot meal they were allowed each day.
“I think I’d like to just lie down and die,” Rufus said, curling up on the ground.
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. He didn’t even seem to be joking. “Come along now, Rufus. Hester will be back in a month, and we can go home. Trust in the captain.”
Rufus only sighed.
Charlotte glanced at Arnold, who shrugged. It was harder than she had imagined to keep everyone’s spirits up on this Godforsaken island. And if it was this bad already, how much lower could everyone get?
There was a clatter of the frying pan. Mei collapsed to the ground.
Charlotte leapt to her feet. “Oh my word. Arnold, quick. Help me.” She raced to Mei’s side, propping her up. Mei groaned, her eyes flickering. The cook was usually so stoic. “You’re going to rest. You’ve done such a wonderful job taking care of us all.”
Arnold helped lift Mei, and between them, they half dragged, half carried her to her tent. As they entered the tent flaps, Charlotte called over her shoulder, “Rufus, make the dinner. You’re on cook duty until Mei is better.” Perhaps having a job to do would raise his spirits.
“Yes, Boss,” Rufus said, leaping into action to save the frying pan from the ground.
Charlotte settled Mei down in her sleeping bag. She knew the crew were weak. Knew death from exposure was a real concern, but this brought the risks into stark relief.
“I could carry on, you know, Boss,” Mei said, her face clammy and pale.
Typical Mei. “No. Not until I say you can. You stay here. And I won’t hear another word from you, do you hear?” It sounded like her voice, but the words seemed stronger. No one would die on her watch.
“Yes, Boss.” Mei closed her eyes, and Charlotte backed out of the tent to find Valerie standing outside, her medical bag in hand.
“I’ll check her over,” Valerie said, ducking inside.
28th April 1916, Southern Ocean
One wave, then another. Over and over.
Hester hung onto the tiller as the Tempest rose up the crest of a monstrous wave, the fury of the wind shredding at the sail they had already reefed twice.
They hurtled down the other side, crashing into the trough, water spraying over the bow and freezing immediately on the decks.
The sails flapped in the relative calm of the valley, and Hester’s belly unclenched. She groaned as the cycle started again.
Under the foredeck that had been hastily built in the days before they left Elephant Island, Peggy, Frank and Winston sat, attempting to light the stove for their evening meal of hot hoosh and biscuits, the one bright beacon of cheer in the punishing days that ran into one another.
Septimus’s hulking form sat amidships, trimming the sails. He looked back at her, his mouth a grim line, beard and moustache frozen with white crystals of ice, but his eyes blazed with pride.
She shifted her blistered hands on the tiller, finger joints aching, crooked in place.
“How do you fare, my lord?” she asked, the gale stealing the words from her cracked lips.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ve been better, but at least the view is good.”
She huffed a laugh, wishing he would come and sit by her, wishing they could be dry, and warm and well-fed—she stopped her thoughts in their tracks. It was no use thinking such things.
The wind built, raging around them, and suddenly, there was a voice by her side.
“I’m glad you did not leave your mate behind.”
Hester spun to find her mother perched on the side of the boat, her wings flared.
“Mother,” she breathed. “We are in mortal peril?” She looked all around. Was Orcus upon them? “Is Orcus coming?”
“No. The sea. The exhaustion. Death is not far away.”
Hester’s breath left her in a rush. Thank God. The sea she could deal with. Orcus, she wasn’t so sure.
Wait. What had she said? “My mate?”
Her mother lifted a hand and waved it towards Septimus. “The one you tethered yourself to. It’s curious that you were able to do that. I thought you might have chosen the other.” Her face turned to Winston.
Hester scowled. “Winston is my friend. Besides, we have other things to discuss than my love life, now you’re finally here. Why did you leave me at the orphanage?”
“I told you that. To protect you.”
“From what?”
Her mother hesitated. “There are…beings who wish you harm.”
“Beings? Like Orcus?”
“Orcus is…I didn’t anticipate him. But there are other gods like him.”
“Gods?” Hester looked over at Septimus, who seemed unaware of the conversation she was having. She wondered, not for the first time, whether she had gone mad. Hysteria. Just as the bigoted Anders Larson had blustered about.
Her mother nodded. “Gods. You share their blood, through me. My mother was one of them, and they killed me for being a half-blood. But they shall not have you.”
Gods. Her head reeled. Her grandmother was one. Insane. She had gone insane. “This is nonsense.”
“You don’t have to believe me. I know it’s a lot to take in.”
She was talking to the ghost of her mother. A mother who was half God, apparently. She shook her head. However unbelievable it was, she did have another question. “And what of my father? Is he dead too?”
“Your father lives.”
Hester’s heart skipped a beat. “What? Where is he? Why didn’t he keep me?”
The boat shuddered.
“The ice is too heavy for your vessel. If you do not chip it away, if you do not lose the weight, you will sink.”
Hester’s eyes widened. “Septimus, the ice. Get rid of it.”
Septimus leapt into action, chipping the ice from the decks.
When Hester looked back, her mother was gone.