History Keepers: Nightship to China (24 page)

Topaz looked down at the map. ‘There’s a port here – at Zhanjiang. It’s not far from our final destination. We head there first. Agreed?’ she said decisively.

Jake and Yoyo nodded.

‘Doctors are not to be trusted!’ Nathan blurted out, hearing their whispers. ‘They’d kill you sooner than cure you.’ He staggered towards them, looking from one to the other, as if he only half recognized them, then said slowly, ‘Did you know, I am comical?’

Yoyo bent her head in shame, regretting her words. ‘Why don’t you lie down again, Nathan,’ she said quietly, reaching out to him.

He shook her hand off. ‘You’re not to be trusted either.’ Suddenly his eyes rolled back in their sockets and his legs gave way. The others just managed to catch him as he fell. They laid him down under the awning; Topaz dabbed his forehead with cold water. His eyes flickered open for a moment, then closed again.

‘Head for Zhanjiang immediately!’ Topaz called to Jake in alarm.

Jake was already at the wheel, setting their course and ramping up the speed, his stomach hollow with anxiety.

They arrived an hour later. Yoyo explained that Zhanjiang had been important during the Song dynasty of the eleventh century, due to its deep natural harbour, but had now declined. It was a compact town, set between hills and sea, ten times quieter than Canton.

As the sun sank towards the horizon, they made their way into the main port; they passed a number of dry docks where ships were being built, some just timber skeletons, others almost complete. One stood out: a five-masted junk of pristine bleached timber. The officials inspecting the bulging hull looked minuscule next to it. Jake remembered the meeting at Xi’s palace in Canton and wondered whether these boat-builders had been present. Maybe this was one of the warships that Fang was commissioning? He steered the
Thunder
into the harbour and docked.

Nathan was barely conscious, and it took all three of them to carry him ashore. Topaz and Jake took a shoulder each as Yoyo rushed along the pier to speak to a group of fishermen.

‘There’s a doctor at the top of the street,’ she said, pointing.

They peered up the steep incline. Jake took most of Nathan’s weight, and they started to climb.

The city of Canton had been cosmopolitan and the youngsters had blended in. Here, the townsfolk eyed them suspiciously. As they passed a tea house, the customers turned and looked at them, muttering under their breath. A man with a white beard and spindly moustache emerged and pursued them up the street, calling after them. In his crumpled white gown and white cap, he looked like a wizard, and Jake saw that one of his eyes was much paler than the other. As he spoke, he rattled a container of sticks inscribed with Chinese letters.

‘What’s he want?’ Jake wondered.

‘He wants to tell our fortune,’ Yoyo explained, before turning and informing the man that they didn’t need his services.

He paid no attention, darting in front of them, shaking his jar of sticks and touching their clothes. Yoyo grew impatient and waved him away. Suddenly his voice changed and became so deep and sinister that Jake and Topaz stopped and turned round. The fortune-teller repeated the phrase again, this time running his finger across his throat.

‘What is he saying?’ Topaz asked, unnerved.

‘Nothing . . .’ Yoyo shook her head and tried to hurry them on.

Then the man spoke in English, his thin lips trembling as he formed the words: ‘
One of you will die
.’

Jake caught his breath in shock. Yoyo shooed the man away, and they continued up to the top of the hill, where they found a square timber building. In the dying light, they saw a placard bearing a red symbol.

Luckily the doctor was an amiable man. He was just packing up for the day, but when he saw the state Nathan was in, he told them to lay him on the timber bed in the centre of the dim room.

Putting on his spectacles, he lit a lantern and brought it over to the patient. He checked Nathan’s pulse in various places, feeling the glands under his jaw and examining his tongue. As he did so, Yoyo spoke to him in Chinese, telling him about the squid venom.

At length, the doctor took a deep breath and selected a couple of jars from among the hundreds that lined the wall, mixed together a quantity of powder from each, added some water and stirred it together. He asked the others to hold Nathan’s head up as he carefully poured the concoction into his mouth, then checked his temperature. He spoke to Yoyo, and she translated.

‘He says Nathan has reacted badly to the venom, that it has paralysed his insides, making it hard for him to breathe.’

Topaz reached for Nathan’s hand and squeezed it tight. ‘Will he be all right? Can the doctor do anything?’

‘He says that if we had come even an hour later, it might have been too late, but he will try and stabilize him.’

Jake couldn’t stop thinking about the fortuneteller’s prophecy.
One of you will die
. . . He wished they’d got help sooner. Finally the doctor suggested they leave him to work in peace; he lit more lamps and set out bottles on the workbench.

‘Topaz,’ Yoyo said softly, ‘let me stay with him. You two need to get to the island. Time is running out.’

Topaz was about to protest, but she knew that Yoyo was right. Someone had to remain, and as she knew the language, she was better able to look after Nathan.

‘I promise to take good care of him,’ Yoyo said, squeezing Topaz’s hand. The other girl nodded and blinked away a tear. Suddenly, amazingly, Topaz hugged her old adversary.

‘We’ll leave the
Thunder
where she is,’ Topaz told her. ‘She’ll be noticed on the island. We’ll use the rowing boat, with Dr Chatterju’s outboard motor. And before we leave, we’ll send a Meslith to the commander.’ She kissed Nathan on his forehead, whispered something in his ear and left the room.

Jake looked at his friend with a lump in his throat. ‘Good luck, old boy,’ he said, mimicking Nathan’s Charleston drawl. He took out the makeshift map from the Lazuli Serpent and gave it to Yoyo. ‘If we don’t come back, you know where to find us,’ he said with an uncertain smile.

Suddenly Yoyo threw her arms around him. ‘I’ll miss you so much,’ she declared passionately.

Jake was taken aback. ‘W-w-well, please be careful,’ he stammered, peeling himself away before hurrying after Topaz.

Yoyo went to the door and watched them leave. She suddenly felt as if she might be sick.

Jake and Topaz ran back to the
Thunder
. Topaz quickly typed out the Meslith to Commander Goethe as Jake untied the rowing boat and lowered it into the water, then got out the casket containing Chatterju’s outboard motor.

Topaz locked up the Meslith machine, collected some weapons together – the arrow gun that Chatterju had given them, a regular crossbow, along with swords and daggers – and piled them into a sack. She grabbed some bread, cheese and a bottle of ginger ale for the journey.

‘What about the bazooka?’ Jake asked. ‘Should we take that?’

Topaz attempted to lift it. ‘It weighs more than I do,’ she said, giving up. ‘It would probably sink us!’

She covered it with some blankets, and she and Jake climbed down the ladder into the boat. Taking an oar each, they set off, away from the lights of Zhanjiang. Once they were clear of the harbour, Jake took out the motor, remembering how the rudder, engine and propeller were all connected in one ingenious mechanism, positioned it over the stern and clamped it in place. He yanked the cord to fire it up; it gave a little chug and was silent again. After a few more attempts, it finally engaged. He took hold of the rudder, put it in gear and they took off across the dark sea.

Night was not far off.

THEY FOLLOWED THE
map, using the stars to navigate their way due south, the tropical breeze rustling their hair. The faint line of white behind them marked their course across the smooth sea. It was warm and still, and the moon soon rose over the horizon, turning the ocean ultramarine; as rich as lazuli itself. Jake glanced at Topaz. She was quiet, her eyes steely, concentrating on the sea ahead. The words they’d had in the golden pagoda had still not been discussed. But for Jake, it didn’t matter; he was happy to be alone with her.

He felt a stirring in his heart. Suddenly he thought of his life in London before meeting the History Keepers: the drudgery of school; the grey winters and aimless summers. He wondered what he would be doing now (whenever
now
was) . . . Poring over algebra or writing an essay on urban sprawl?

Instead, here he was in Ming dynasty China, voyaging across a tropical sea, an incredible girl at his side: two adventurers from different eras of history on a mission together – a crucial assignment to protect the fabric of the past. Certainly there was danger to come, but excitement too.

‘Jake,’ Topaz said softly, ‘there is something I need to tell you.’ He braced himself, certain that she was going to talk about their argument. But: ‘It’s about Philip – his whereabouts.’

Jake’s stomach flipped. ‘What about him?’

‘Well over a year ago, the commander received a Meslith from an unknown sender. She suspected it was from Philip.’

Jake scrutinized Topaz’s indigo eyes. ‘What did it say?’

‘There were no words. It consisted of just four numbers. The commander believed they were longitude co-ordinates. As you know, when someone is describing a precise place in history, they write numbers of longitude, latitude and date – in that order. The Meslith may have been a call for help.’

Silence; just the whine of the outboard motor. Jake felt a stab of betrayal. ‘And no one thought to tell me?’

‘There was no proof; and no one wanted to give you false hope.’

‘But the co-ordinates . . . they were incomplete? That’s what you’re trying to say?’

Topaz held up the map of the South China Sea. ‘You see the longitude of the island we are travelling to . . . it’s exactly the same.’

‘So Philip might be there?’ Jake said.

‘
C’est possible
.’ She reached out to touch his hand. ‘Though of course, you have to prepare yourself for . . . the
possibility
that—’ She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

‘Could I have a drink, please?’

Topaz opened the flask of ginger ale and passed it to him. He drank and gave it back. Then they shared out the food and ate in silence.

Gradually they drew near to a group of islands. Topaz examined them, comparing them to the marks on the map. ‘We’re getting close,’ she said, standing to get a proper look. ‘It’s the furthest one.’

Finally Jake cut the engine and they took up their oars once more. He had never seen the sea so calm.

‘There,’ he said, turning to catch a glimpse of their destination for the first time. ‘Xi’s island . . .’

They both stopped rowing. The island reared up out of the sea, sharp and pointed, the peak slightly crooked, like a witch’s hat. With the moon behind it, it looked as dark as charcoal. Beyond was nothing but endless sea.

‘It’s like Point Zero,’ Topaz said. ‘Or rather, like its evil cousin.’ It looked eerie and uninviting.

They continued rowing and then stopped again a couple of hundred yards from the island. ‘Let’s leave the boat there,’ Topaz said, pointing to a stack of rocks that jutted out of the sea. ‘We’ll have to swim the rest – if we don’t want to be seen. Agreed?’

Jake nodded, and managed to secure the rope around a finger of stone. They took off their shoes and packed them, along with their weapons, into a sack, which Jake slung over his shoulder; then they lowered themselves into the water. It was as warm as a bath.

They swam towards the island. There was no sign of life – no hint of green; just facets of rock twisting up to the lopsided peak. Jake wondered if he had somehow misunderstood the map on the Lazuli Serpent, but he didn’t say anything.

Suddenly the sea, hitherto so calm, grew choppy. Jake choked on a mouthful of salty water.

‘Something’s coming,’ Topaz said, feeling the vibration in the water. They both turned, but the horizon behind them was clear. Still the waves built up, crashing against the rocky shore ahead.

Then they saw it: a shape rising out of the sea – a length of glistening grey metal.

Jake recognized it immediately. ‘It’s Xi’s submarine,’ he shouted to Topaz, who was a little way ahead. He had last seen it disappearing below the Thames by London Bridge. It surfaced, heading towards them on a direct collision course. ‘Swim!’ he shouted.

They tried to get out of its path, but suddenly, from the island, they heard a deep rasp of metal: a secret entrance appeared in the sheer wall of mountain in front of them; a pair of stone doors creaked open to reveal a mammoth cavity. A soft light from within illuminated the curved hull of the submarine. Jake swam furiously, but it struck him a glancing blow as it swept past, and he sank beneath the water.

Dizzy and spluttering, he swam back to the surface. Topaz was calling, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. Then he realized that she was pointing to the great doors – they were closing. Jake quickly swam through the opening after her. The metal hinges – hidden behind the façade of rock – groaned and creaked as the doors edged together. Jake swam faster, and felt them brush against him, about to cut him in two; but Topaz yanked him through just before they snapped shut.

They both took a gulp of air and slipped underwater. Using the harbour walls to guide them, they felt their way along, then surfaced for a quick peek. They were in a dimly lit cavern that rose to a sharp point high above their heads.

Further along, Xi’s submarine was drawing towards a gantry. They saw that its shining steel plates were emblazoned with the symbol of the blood-red octopus. With a clang of metal, a large hatch opened and figures emerged – four soldiers, who lined up along the gantry. They stood to attention, swaying, clearly ill, their eyes bloodshot; they looked like Nathan had. One of them could barely stand.

Next came Madame Fang;
she
looked more energetic than ever in her silver breastplate; her grey hair was pulled up in a tight bun, her face imperious, but she bowed as the last figure emerged.