History Keepers: Nightship to China (29 page)

Nathan and Topaz were about to explain that one of them was French and the other American, but for the sake of speed they both nodded. ‘English, yes.’

‘The best clocks from English,’ the boy replied, before adding grandly, ‘I am Zhu Chanxun, second son of emperor.’

The History Keepers each responded with a bow, and the peacock gave a piercing cry and opened its tail into a fan of turquoise and emerald.

Zhu spoke again: ‘I hear you talking. You say I am in danger. What danger is this?’

Yoyo explained for a third time, suggesting that immediate action should be taken.

Zhu waited for her to finish. ‘You want me to turn round? The fleet? Go back to land?’

‘That’s right,’ Topaz told him, ‘and prepare the cannon—’

The imperial adviser interrupted again, shaking his head, but the boy waved him away; then suddenly noticed the Lazuli Serpent in Yoyo’s hand. She passed it over and he examined it, running his fingers along the engraving.

‘Why do you bring me this stone? The stone is . . .’ He searched for the word, clearly frightened, and mimed an explosion. ‘The stone is destruction.’

Anxious that the attack might be coming at any moment, Topaz piped up in broken Chinese, begging him to return to port. Nathan eagerly seconded the motion, though his Chinese was far worse than his sister’s.

The adviser finally lost patience, insisting that these upstarts should be clapped in chains.

Zhu listened, but kept his eyes fixed on the three friends. For a moment they all exchanged a look that had nothing to do with the world of grown-ups and courtiers – a look of comradeship. Then Zhu turned and called to his captain, issuing orders.

Yoyo translated, her eyes sparkling with relief. ‘He has told them to change course, to head for the nearest port, and to prepare the gun deck.’

The courtier’s jaw had dropped open. His cheeks reddened and his face twisted with fury, but the angry young prince demanded the respect that he was due.

At Zhu’s command, a series of trumpet blasts echoed around the deck, and replies swiftly came from the other craft. There was a creak as a hundred ropes tightened at once, and the seven gargantuan sails angled round as one. Suddenly a shaft of sunlight lit up the four teenagers in a pool of gold. The flagship started to turn north towards the mainland. The other vessels, strung out in a crescent, followed suit.

Following the movement of the fleet, Nathan suddenly spotted a small craft at the back – one of the water tankers – list to one side, her mast tipping until it pointed at forty-five degrees. It carried on, seeming to right itself.

Then he heard a boom as it exploded.

The cargo of water sprayed up into the air like a fountain. Nathan cried out in shock, and the others turned to see the boat being pulled down into the sea by what looked like two giant pincers.

The prince gasped, eyes wide with horror, then looked down at the Lazuli Serpent before turning to the History Keepers. ‘Help me, please. What do I do?’ His face was pale.

Yoyo and Topaz explained that he must use the cannons to try and hit the submarine as it approached. He nodded, then swept through the guards down onto the main deck, the others following behind. The peacock tried to hop after its master, but its golden leash held it back.

When the rest of the courtiers caught sight of their prince, they fell to their knees, heads bowed to the ground. Zhu had no time for that; he ordered them to get on with their business and sent a lieutenant to check that the cannons were ready. Nathan volunteered to go with him.

Just then, a cry went up from another part of the fleet. The prince and his courtiers swooped over to the rail to see what was happening. Now another supply boat was in trouble: the prow lurched into the air while the stern dropped sharply. Seemingly suspended in this unnatural position, it suddenly snapped in two, catapulting its crew in all directions and disgorging its load of timber.

The ship behind it, this one full of soldiers, smacked right into the wreckage, and the deck tilted crazily, tipping half the troops into the sea. Now a shout of alarm went up from every ship in the huge fleet; on the deck of the flagship, it was chaos.

Nathan charged down to the gun deck with Zhu’s lieutenant. It was humming with activity: three men were stationed at each gun, loading charge and ball, and preparing the fuses. At the lieutenant’s command, the guns were rolled forward, barrels pointing down through the portholes towards the water.

Nathan went over to the lookout window on the starboard side and scanned the sea for any signs of Fang’s metal squid. The water was still choppy where the fleet had started to turn northwards. Then he caught a glimpse of a dark spidery blur moving towards them. He shouted out, pointing, and signalled for the guns to take aim. The lieutenant immediately seconded his command.

Torches were touched to the fuses; there was a crackle, and everyone put their hands to their ears as half the starboard cannons fired, delivering an ear-shattering noise and a backdraught of sulphurous heat. As the missiles hit the sea, a curtain of water spewed up into the air, sending a great wave out towards the rest of the fleet. The lieutenant immediately ordered the second round of cannonfire.

There was a scurry of activity as the guns were reloaded, and Nathan waited with bated breath to see if they had hit the submarine.

But then it came: a solitary thump from below. Then a second; and a third, making him feel sick to his stomach –
rap, rap, rap
. . . He knew it was a giant metal tentacle trying to breach the hull. There was a splintering sound, and Nathan was sure that it had pierced the timber. From below, he heard water rushing in and sailors shouting. Then the deep rapping started once more, from another quarter of the ship.

On the main deck, the Chinese courtiers were rushing around in panic. Zhu, the boy prince, stood rooted to the spot, unable to formulate the words of command he needed. The troupe of ladies decanted from the empress’s quarters below into the clouds of smoke left by the guns, their dresses bright in the midst of the chaos.

Suddenly there was a thundering crack, and the ship jolted. The yellow throne shunted through the screens and down the steps. Screams went up as it smashed onto the main deck. Topaz and Yoyo cleared a path through the courtiers, navigators, surgeons and mapmakers, many still with instruments and charts in their hands. Over the side of the ship they saw, below the surface, the end of a metal tentacle tightening its grip on the timbers.

Topaz found a length of rope, tied one end to the rail and cast the rest over the side so that it unrolled towards the tentacle. She repeated the process with a second rope, then slung a further coil over her shoulder and tossed one to Yoyo. Meanwhile Yoyo had seized a pair of hammers – chunky iron mallets – from the deck and passed one over to Topaz. They both abseiled down the ropes towards the tentacle, while Zhu, amazed by their bravery, looked on, his courtiers crowding round on either side.

Once Yoyo was close enough, she let go of the rope, catching hold of the metal arm. The joint contracted as it took a tighter grip on the ship, nearly crushing her fingers, but she slid down, taking a deep breath as she disappeared underwater, feeling her way along the limb.

Topaz followed close behind, plunging into the water and grabbing hold as Fang’s machine clung to the hull of the flagship like a monstrous barnacle.

The girls worked their way along, until they were within reach of the cockpit. Fang – a fearsome shape at the helm – saw them and pulled a lever that made the tentacle suddenly shoot out, nearly throwing them off. Topaz looped her rope around it to give them something to hold onto, but Fang shunted the control back and forth, making it flick to and fro like a whip. Topaz lost her grip and dropped the hammer, but just managed to cling onto the end of the rope and pulled herself to the surface, where she took great gulps of air.

Meanwhile, underwater, Yoyo managed to reach the top of the glass cockpit; here she knotted the end of her rope to the base of a tentacle and wrapped it around her foot. She raised the hammer and pounded on the glass over and over again, until faint cracks appeared on the surface. Ignoring her, Fang sent another arm out to spear the ship’s hull.

Yoyo continued to strike the glass with all her might, finally rupturing it. Even as water seeped into the cockpit through the crack, Fang continued to work the controls. Yoyo hammered away at the glass, and now a chunk gave way and water flooded in, the momentum threatening to carry the control pod away from the flagship – though three tentacles were still clinging on. Desperate to breathe, Yoyo spiralled up the rope, kicking towards the surface.

As she did so, Topaz pulled herself back down her own rope to the squid’s cockpit. Just inside the opening that Yoyo had made she spotted a latch that held the glass roof in place. She reached in, but Fang drew her dagger and slashed at her forearm. Ignoring the pain, Topaz unhooked the latch, and the roof of the cockpit immediately flipped off and disappeared into the vortex behind. The cockpit was filling with water, and as the current took the metal squid, all but one of its tentacles were forced to let go of the hull.

Now Yoyo reappeared; she took Topaz’s hand and pulled her away, pointing towards the surface. Topaz knew she needed air before she passed out, and had no choice but to head upwards. She shot through the roof of light and gasped for breath.

Down below, Madame Fang still held on doggedly, trying to control the squid and thrusting her dagger towards Yoyo as she clambered into the cockpit. Yoyo struck back with her hammer, then yanked on a lever: the last tentacle relinquished its hold on the ship, and the machine shot backwards. Fang and Yoyo were thrown together, dropping their weapons. They grabbed each other by the neck, expelling any air still left in their lungs.

Weak with lack of oxygen, Yoyo finally managed to smash Fang’s head on the edge of the cockpit. As the old woman reeled, dazed, Yoyo took the controls, turned the squid round and opened the throttle. She aimed it at a steep cliff rearing up out of the sea bed and accelerated hard. Fang came to just in time to see the sheer wall shooting towards her, while Yoyo closed her eyes, anticipating the moment of impact.

On the surface, Topaz was still taking deep lungfuls of air. The fleet had turned round, but the little patrol boat was heading towards her. She ducked back down, trying to see what had happened. Was Yoyo swimming for safety? Then, in the distance, she saw the pulse of light and heard the explosion.

‘
Noooo!
’ she spluttered as she surfaced again.

The patrol ship drew close, the crew reaching down to help her aboard. The bearded captain, previously so mistrustful, gazed at her in awe.

‘We have to find her . . . find Yoyo!’ Topaz wailed, treading water as she looked around frantically.

But there was nothing but empty sea.

OBLIVIOUS TO WHAT
was happening out at sea, Galliana Goethe and Jake hurried down the stairwell; she was leading the way carrying a lantern in one hand and her arrow gun in the other, while Jake struggled behind under the weight of the bazooka. When they reached a rickety landing halfway down, Galliana checked their position on her map.

‘This way,’ she whispered to Jake. ‘It will take us into the back of the ballroom.’

The landing was rotten, and they had to tread carefully. Dust trickled down into the stairwell below. Suddenly a great chunk gave way, Jake lost his footing and the heavy bazooka almost hauled him over the edge; but Galliana pulled him back from the void.

‘All right?’ she asked. He nodded, tightening the strap.

Heading along the corridor, they soon came to a rusty metal door in the wall. They checked their weapons before Galliana turned the handle and gently pushed it open. It gave a shrill squeak.

She was about to go through when Jake spoke. ‘Commander?’ She turned round and looked at him. ‘I just wanted to wish you luck.’

Galliana smiled and ruffled his hair. ‘And good luck to you too. Your family have always been the bravest of us.’

Jake coloured at the compliment. ‘I also wanted to say . . .’ he mumbled. ‘What happened to your son must have – I can’t even begin to imagine how you . . .’ He trailed off, not knowing how to put it into words.

Galliana looked down and gave a sigh. ‘It was a dark time,’ she said quietly. ‘The darkest of all.’

Jake knew that this was a strange conversation to be having at such a point, but if he was to enter this place again, he felt a sudden, urgent need to unravel at least some of her story. ‘When you disappeared down those steps on your own just now, I realized I – I didn’t know enough about you . . . even where you were born or – or how you came to be commander.’

Galliana seemed to understand. Her eyes were serious, windows into a world of extraordinary secrets. ‘Would you believe I had great difficulties growing up?’ she said softly. ‘I was much more fragile and less clever than my four older brothers. And I was afraid of my own shadow, as my father put it. We lived on the Baltic, in the little German port of Flensburg . . . long winters and bright summers – a happy town. All my family were History Keepers, going back many generations. And we were boat builders too. Half of the fleet are still Goethe ships.’

‘You were afraid?’ Jake asked, finding it hard to believe: he thought of her as fearless.

‘No one was expecting much of me, I can tell you.’ Galliana’s face darkened. ‘You don’t need to know the details, but my folks – parents, cousins, brothers – were all killed; burned in their beds after a family wedding. Under cover of darkness Sigvard Zeldt struck with his squad of executioners.’

Jake knew the name: though long-dead, Sigvard Zeldt was the father of Xander and Agata, both of whom he had come up against on previous missions.

‘Only
I
escaped,’ Galliana continued, ‘hiding underwater with a length of clay pipe. I was the only Goethe left – I still am – so I couldn’t be frightened of shadows any longer. I had to grasp life.’