"Aye, Sir."
"Good. Then do it. Now."
I head for the ratlines and on the way pick up a short length of light line. I hook my toes on the netting and up I climb.
When I get up to Harper, the lookout, I take his glass and turn from him and loosen my vest and jam the glass down in and ask him to give me a boost before he goes. He flings me up so's I can grab a backstay and swing out and climb up it to where it joins the main royal mast. When I get there, I wrap my legs around the mast and sort of sit on the lines. They are under powerful pressure from holding up the mast and all, and it's like sitting on thin, sloping iron bars but I'll have to bear it. I tie the line I brung with me around myself and around the mast and then take out the glass and tie the end of the line around that so's I don't drop it. I put the telescope to my eye and look south.
Nothing.
I brace the glass against the mast and slowly scan the whole horizon. In the glass the horizon wiggles in the heat of the morning but shows nothing else. We're heading dead west 'cause we know the South American continent lies off there someplace, we just don't know where, and there ain't nothin' but ocean in the other direction. I concentrate on the southern part again.
I search the southern sea off the port side of the ship for a full half hour as ordered. Nothing. I figure I'll give it a rest and give all the compass points a quick look. North, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, northwest, north. Nothing.
Alas, the dear Dolphin, my only home ever, my port in the storm, the refuge what saved a poor girl from...
What's that?
North-northwest bearing, two points ahead of the starboard beam: a smudge. Prolly nothing. It's like the horizon was a pencil line and it was just rubbed a little right there. Don't lose it. Prolly just clouds.
Both my legs are falling asleep from sitting on the wires. I try to scootch up a bit, but I can't without taking my eyes off the smudge, which ain't changin' none, since we ain't goin' towards it.
I need to get up higher.
I take the glass from my eye and look up. There's still another ten, maybe twelve feet of bare mast to the top, and then there's a flat place on top of the mast, a small plate to keep the rainwater out of the wood grain to keep it from rotting. I know that 'cause all of us ship's boys have touched the top of the highest mast 'cause we dared each other to do it, and so we had to do it. I retie the line around my waist so that it forms a loop around me and the mast. I put the glass back in my vest and start up.
I lean back against the rope and slowly shinny up, pulling the rope with me as I go, inch by inch. I get to the top and look down at the deck, one hundred and fifty feet below. I could not be higher—every bit of the Dolphin is below me now. Well, sort of, 'cause there is actually only water beneath me on account of the list on the ship. If I take a tumble, I'll make quite a splash, but at least I won't smash against the deck and make a mess. Still be dead, though. I pull out the glass and lay it on the top plate and train it on the spot.
There!
I don't think it's a cloud! It seems to have ends, like cliffs. But I can't be sure. It could be a fog bank. But on a clear day like this?
"Mr. Haywood. On deck there," I say not loud 'cause I don't want to get the crew's hopes up. No one hears me.
I see Willy crossing the deck far below.
I call out, "Willy!" and he looks up.
"Get Mr. Haywood. Quiet, like."
The First Mate is up the mast in a flash with his own glass.
"There, Sir," I say with my eye still on the glass. "To the northwest, two points ahead of the beam. About zero seven zero, relative. Maybe it's clouds, Sir, I don't know..."
"I don't see anything," he says, disgusted. Then he looks at me a good thirty, forty feet above him.
"Johnson. Get up here," he calls down. The small and wiry Johnson bounds up to the platform. "Get up as close as you can to Faber. Take my glass."
In a moment, I feel his head butt up against my leg. "Where away, Jacky?"
I keep the glass to my eye and point. He squints in his glass.
"Sir!" says Johnson. "There's something! It's land!"
Mr. Haywood calls down orders and the Dolphin slowly turns toward her salvation.
"Good work, Faber. Don't fall on your way down. Report back to your pump."
It takes us the full day to get there, wallowing as we are. When we get close, I'm called up again and sent into the foretop, the dear old foretop, to spot the shallows in the clear bright water. I think they have me do it 'cause I'm pretty useless on the pump.
Already I can see heads of coral poking up from way below as we head in to the island. They've found a likely little cove that's protected by an arm of sand and coral that reaches out and encircles it. The Captain keeps us off till almost high tide and then we go in under very little sail. It's dangerous for the ship as we could run aground too soon and sink in sight of land, but we have no other choice. At least we know we're not going to drown, and that is a wonderful thing.
I call out when I see something and the ground is coming up fast, but the stands of sharp coral that could rip the bottom right off the ship thin out and then it's all white sand. We slip up on the sand, and I swear the Dolphin sighs as she leans over and comes to rest, safe.
There is no cheering. All just rig hammocks and fall into them. The exhaustion is total—officer, seaman, and boy. There are no watches set, no food prepared, nothing but sweet sleep. I meet Jaimy staggering back to our hammock. I take his arm and put it around my shoulders and help him the rest of the way.
"Jacky," he whispers, "tonight I want ... I want us to sleep at the same end of the hammock. Just sleep..."
Our hammocks are the kind that fold up around a person so you can't see in. What's the harm, I thinks. Besides, no one cares about nothing except blessed sleep.
"Just sleep...," he goes on dreamily. "I just want to sleep ... and wake up in the morning with your head on my shoulder and your breath on my face."
We crawl in and enfold into each other and the rough canvas of our dear, dear hammock feels like the finest of velvet.
Chapter 36
The first thing I feel in the morning is someone lifting the flap of the hammock off of our faces, and I open an eyelid and it's Davy's shocked face I'm seeing looking down.
I let out a low moan and lift my hand and tap Jaimy on the chest. His eyes flutter open and sense returns to them and he looks at me and smiles. I point up and he follows my point and sees Davy. He starts. Then he relaxes and strokes my hair with the hand that's connected to the arm and shoulder that my head is lying on and says, "Davy, put your hand on your tattoo and swear that you will never tell a soul about this. At least not yet."
Davy is still struck dumb.
"Is there anyone else in here?" Jaimy asks Davy.
I see Davy look quickly around the hold. He recovers the power of speech. "No, they're all on the beach, but—"
"Then swear, Davy, or the Brotherhood was nothing but a bunch of little boys playing games."
Davy stands there scowling a bit and then comes back to his ordinary self. "All right, you sods," he hisses, "I swears I won't tell no one I caught the both of you in disgustin' mortal sin for which you'll roast in Hell forever."
"All right, then." Jaimy takes a deep breath. "Jacky is the girl that you saw me with in Kingston. And, she is actually ... well, a girl. Really, she is."