Dormia (16 page)

Alfonso clawed his way to the bridge, where the vice admiral—her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep—was at the wheel. "Can we outrun that warship?" Alfonso asked.

The vice admiral shook her head. "That beast has twin screws, and we got only one. Can't go dodgin' them forever."

In a few hours, the entire crew except for Shamus, who was at the helm, gathered in the ship's dining area for an early dinner. No one ate much of the fried seal that Hellen prepared. Midway through dinner, the vice admiral lit up her pipe, took several long puffs, and announced matter-of-factly, "Well, the situation don't look good. That warship is drawin' closer and, if we both keep our present speeds, she'll be upon us in less than eight hours' time."

"Who's sailin' that black warship?" asked Bilblox.

"What's the matter with your eyes?" asked Hellen. "How come they've gone white?"

"Oh, my eyes..." stammered Bilblox. "Well, uhh..."

"It's just a case of temporary snow blindness from all the sun," interjected Hill.

"Hmm," said Hellen. "Can you see?"

"Not too well," replied Bilblox.

"Anyway," said the vice admiral, "as I was tellin' ya, those mercenaries or pirates that someone has hired to do their dirty work, oh, they're after us. Ya can be sure of that. And once they get us, they'll take what they want and sink the ship, probably with us on it." She let out a big sigh. "Somehow or another we need to get away. We got two options. The first is to keep goin'
across the East Siberian Sea, through the Laptev Sea, and on to Barsh-yin-Binder. But if we do that, the black warship will catch us like a cat pouncin' on a mouse."

"What's our other option?" asked Bilblox.

A rather mischievous smile crept across the vice admiral's face. There was a long pause and everyone listened to the wind howling and the rain splattering heavily onto the wooden deck above.

"The other option," she said, "is that we pull out of the water and go over the ice."

"What? Are ya kiddin'?" inquired Bilblox.

"Is that possible?" asked Hill.

"'Course it is," snapped the vice admiral. "Hellen, have ya oiled the retractable skating blades recently?"

"What—those things?" replied Hellen with a laugh. "Not in decades!"

"Well, better get to it," said the vice admiral. "Shamus!" she shouted. "Due north, full steam ahead. We need to get to the pack ice in eight hours or less!"

***

After a few hours of fitful sleep, Alfonso woke up when it was still dark. Hill and Bilblox were already gone. Alfonso dressed quickly and exited the windmill. As soon as he stepped foot on the deck, he stopped in his tracks. His mouth hung open as he stared at the incredible scene. Massive icebergs surrounded them. Wind screamed across the deck. Icicles hung from every corner of the ship. Snow was falling so heavily that, at times, he
could barely see anything at all. It was a blizzard like none he had ever encountered. Alfonso quickly covered his mouth and nose to keep out the falling snow and made his way to the mess hall below. Here he found everyone finishing their breakfasts and in the middle of a heated discussion.

"With all due respect, Vice Admiral," said Hill testily, "we've got a warship just behind us, we're in the Arctic Ocean in wintertime, and you're proposing that we pull a nautical maneuver that has never been done before? This seems foolhardy!"

Instead of being furious at such direct language, the vice admiral simply smiled. "Now, now, Lil' Hilly," she said, "don't ya get upset. It can be done, that's for sure. Right, Hellen?"

"Theoretically," said Hellen with a curt nod. "It's possible."

"Ya see, boys," said the vice admiral with a hearty laugh, "all ya need is some womanly courage! Lemme explain."

The vice admiral relit her pipe and in a dry, professorial tone gave her crew a little history lesson. She explained that back in the 1890s, when the
Success Story
was first built, it was considered a prototype—or the first ship of its kind—which meant that it came with a number of experimental gizmos. The most curious of these were two retractable steel blades that spanned the length of the ship. When resting on top of an ice field, these blades transformed the ship into a giant, double-bladed ice skate of sorts. Unfortunately, said the vice admiral, the device had been tried only once and ended in complete failure. The
Success Story
fell on its side and had to be towed to a dry dock for months of repairs. Since that time, the retractable skating blades had never been used. "So there ya have it," concluded the vice admiral with a cheery smile. "My great-grandpappy
tried it once and failed. But I've been workin' on some calculations and I'm sure it'll work!"

It sounded ridiculous, but the vice admiral's wild confidence was infectious. Besides, what other choice did they have?

"How will it glide?" asked Alfonso. "I mean, what will power us along?"

"Sails!" replied the vice admiral merrily. "At this time of year, we regularly get winds of eighty knots or more 'round here. Even a small sail will move us like a jet engine, specially when we're on double ice-blades!"

"This I gotta see," said Bilblox with a roll of his white eyes.

"Oh, ya'll do more than see it," said the vice admiral. "If this is gonna work we'll need every ounce of yer strength, Bilblox." She tapped out her pipe onto the table. "All right, then, let's get goin'. We've got work to do before the
Success Story
starts skatin'."

On deck, everyone could see that the black warship had narrowed the distance to only about a half-mile. The ship was so close that Alfonso could clearly see its bow. It was a strange-looking ship, almost ghostlike in appearance and obviously larger than the
Success Story.
The only sign of people was two bundled-up figures dressed in fur coats and manning a large artillery gun that was pointed at them. One direct hit from this gun and the
Success Story
would be badly wounded. Using a monoscope, Alfonso repeatedly looked for any signs of Kiril, but it was impossible to tell if he was onboard.

Alfonso felt a bit too exposed on the deck and soon joined the vice admiral on the bridge. She was artfully weaving the
Success Story
around the icebergs. With each turn that she made,
the vice admiral brought the ship as close to the floating hunks of ice as she dared. The warship failed to mimic these maneuvers and did not draw closer.

"Where is that blasted pack ice when we need it?" asked the vice admiral irritably. "Wait a minute ... There it is—dead ahead!" She pointed out the window excitedly with her metal hook. Several miles in front of them was a solid crust of ice sitting on the horizon. It looked like a thick coat of vanilla frosting resting on the sea.

"You found it!" shouted Alfonso.

"Ya bet yer land-lovin' legs I did!" yelled the vice admiral. "Now get down below deck and help Bilblox and yer uncle get those skatin' blades ready!"

Alfonso dashed down the stairs leading to the mess hall and then continued all the way to the lowest level, where Hill and Bilblox were waiting. They stood in a small dingy hallway next to a wall panel with two sets of iron cranks. One crank was marked
LEFT SKATING BLADE
. The other was marked
RIGHT SKATING BLADE
. Above both cranks dangled a large sign that read
OUT OF ORDER!

"I got a bad feelin' about this," whispered Bilblox.

"Don't worry," said Hill with a forced smile. "This ship is old but reliable."

Moments later the entire ship shuddered as if it too were having second thoughts about what the vice admiral was attempting to do. Outside, the seas were getting rougher.

"How are your eyes?" asked Hill.

"Blurry," replied Bilblox. "But I'm sure my vision will come back."

Alfonso shifted awkwardly, but said nothing.

"So what's the plan?" asked Bilblox.

"The vice admiral said to lower the skating blades," said Alfonso.

"Let's do it then," said Bilblox. "I'd just as soon get this over with."

Bilblox, Hill, and Alfonso all placed their hands on the
LEFT SKATING BLADE
crank and began pushing on it with all of their might. Slowly, the old, rusted mechanism began to turn. Beneath them they heard a loud creaking noise. "Good grief," grunted Hill. "This crank could use some oil." The three of them continued pushing on the crank for the next five minutes until they heard a giant thud. "I think that means the skate is locked into place," said Hill. "Either that or it's busted."

"Well," gasped Bilblox, "what do you say we get to work on the other one?"

Hill nodded.

It took ten minutes of backbreaking labor before they managed to lower the right skating blade. When this was done, they were thoroughly exhausted. Wearily, all three limped back up the stairs to the bridge, where they found the vice admiral yelling at the top of her lungs.

"For cryin' out loud we need more speed, Shamus!" she shrieked. "We ain't gonna make it if ya don't get this ship movin' faster. Shovel more coal into the furnace, for goodness sake, shovel
more
coal, ya good for nothin' Irishman!"

Shamus, who was downstairs in the ship's engine room, was now muttering so loudly that it really wasn't a mutter at all: "I'm trying, you senile blowhard—I'm trying!"

The vice admiral turned and saw Alfonso, Bilblox, and Hill staring out the front windshield of the ship. Directly in front of
them, about a quarter of a mile away, was a wide slab of ice that marked the beginning of the polar ice pack.

"Finally, you're back," she said. "All right, lads, go find Hellen on the main deck and help her hoist up the sails. Quickly! This has to happen before we hit the ice or we'll get stuck."

The three of them hustled onto the main deck and helped Hellen hoist up two giant blue sails. The first sail hung from the ship's emergency mast; the other hung from one of the ship's smokestacks. The sails weren't especially tall, but they were exceedingly wide, and when they filled with wind they eclipsed the entire horizon.

Just as they had finished unfurling the sails, a hair-raising SCREEEEEEEEEECH reverberated throughout the ship. Alfonso plugged his fingers into his ears. Bilblox and Hill both winced. The only person who seemed completely unruffled was the vice admiral. "Don't worry!" she shouted to them from the bridge. "Those're the blades goin' on the ice!"

Howling wind poured into the round bellies of the sails. Thick black smoke poured out of the ship's smokestacks. The
Success Story
creaked awkwardly out of the water, like an old horse trying to stand. Water poured off the hull and splashed onto the ice below. The blades underneath the ship slid forward and the ship slid onto the ice. Improbably, the vice admiral's plan seemed to be working. Everyone cheered in celebration until they realized that the ship had stopped moving.

"What's goin' on?" called out the vice admiral from the bridge. "Why are we stopped?"

"We're stuck on a bump on the ice!" yelled Hellen as she peered over the side. "It's right about midship and it's holding
us up like we're in the middle of a seesaw. Any minute now, we're gonna start rocking back and forth!"

Hellen was exactly right. Just seconds later, the entire ship started wobbling back and forth.

"Bilblox!" yelled the vice admiral. "Ya big lug! Get down there with some rope and help us out."

"Ya crazy? I can't pull this entire ship by myself," yelled Bilblox.

"Just give it a good yank," yelled the vice admiral. "That should be enough! Now get goin'!"

"I can barely see," protested Bilblox.

"Ya don't need to see," snapped the vice admiral. "Ya just need to pull!"

Bilblox nodded seriously, grabbed a large coil of rope tied to the front of the ship, and climbed down a rickety old ladder that clung to the side of the ship. Suddenly, everyone's attention was diverted back toward the water, where—not more than a hundred yards away—the black warship had suddenly reappeared out of the blizzard.

"Oh boy," muttered the vice admiral. "This is gonna be close."

B
ILBLOX
groped his way down the ladder that was affixed to the side of the ship, and as he climbed, the black warship rotated slightly to get a clear shot at the
Success Story. Ba-boom!
The warship let loose with a thunderous volley from its onboard gun. Seconds later, the rounds splashed in the water a hundred feet behind the
Success Story.

"Hurry up, Bilblox!" yelled the vice admiral. "They're not gonna miss us next time!"

Down on the ice, Bilblox quickly assessed the situation. Blurry though his vision was, he still saw what needed to be done: he had to pull the entire ship forward just a few inches. Of course, under normal circumstances, there was no way that a single man could pull a ship that weighed hundreds of tons.
Yet, as it now rested, the ship was balanced in such a way that one good tug on the rope might effectively tip the scales and move the vessel down off the bump. In situations like this, sometimes the smallest of things can make the biggest difference. It was like the old story of the straw that broke the camel's back, and Bilblox was the straw that would move the
Success Story.

Bilblox ran away from the ship until the rope was taut. He then began pulling on it with all of his might. "Arrrrrrrrgh!" he yelled as he put every last ounce of strength into the effort. "Arrrrrrrrgh!"

The ship slid forward an inch. The black warship fired again at the
Success Story.
This time, the gunshot whistled only feet above the upper deck of the ship and peppered both the sail and mast with iron pellets. Bilblox gave the rope another massive pull. "Arrrrrrrrgh!" he yelled. His legs trembled and he felt his face go red. The entire ship moved forward a solid four inches. The bow tipped down, and the
Success Story
began to move.

They were over the bump!

Clumps of ice and snow shot out from under the
Success Story
's skates and, within what seemed like only seconds, the ship had picked up considerable speed. Bilblox sprinted for the ladder on the side of the ship and took hold. The boat continued to accelerate as the wind filled the sails and the skates slid cleanly along the ice. The vice admiral let out a wild, whooping cry of joy. Hill, Alfonso, and Hellen embraced one another. Shamus wept. Bilblox held onto the side of the ship for dear life and carefully climbed up the rickety wooden rungs of the ladder. The
Success Story
whizzed north, leaving the mysterious black warship far behind.