There was a huge creaking, followed by the sound of planks snapping and splintering. The end of the ship with the stateroom in it tipped, so that Mitt had to hang on to the door.
“This ship’s breaking up!” he shouted at Al, through the din. “Let go of her!”
Al seemed to forget that he intended to strangle Hildy. He dragged her to the door and stared out. He, Mitt, and Hildy all ducked back as a mast as big as a tree, shrouds, sails, and all, crashed down on their end of the ship. The ceiling above them began to cave in under it. Mitt took hold of Hildy’s other arm and Hildy pulled. Al was so bemused that he let go of her. Mitt and Hildy struggled over broken decking to an amazing sight.
There was an island growing through the middle of the ship. It was a wet shiny hump covered with shells and weeds and smelling like the waterfront on a hot day, and it was growing steadily. Navis, Lithar, Bence, and the guards were all on top of it, being carried upward as the island grew. Ynen was slithering anxiously down to them. Mitt stared round, weak with awe. The poor Wheatsheaf was in two shattered halves, on either side of the new island, and the surge and disturbance of its growth was rocking the ring of boats where the crew sat watching. Farther off, Wind’s Road’s mast beat to and fro.
“What’s happening?” said Ynen. “Hildy, what did he do?”
Grass was already springing on the wet hump. It grew faint and far apart at first, but it thickened as quickly as the apple trees had grown. The muddy mound grew greener as well as larger. Some grass seemed to be rooting on the timbers of the Wheatsheaf as well.
Navis shouted and pointed. Mitt and Hildy both turned round to find Al close behind them, in the act of grabbing for them. Hildy threw herself to one side and Mitt to the other, where Mitt sat down with a wet smick which reminded him nastily of the dikes by the West Pool. As he landed, he saw Al grab Ynen instead and drag him by the leg down the muddy slope. The gun was still in Al’s hand. Ynen put up a useless arm against it.
“Hildy! Help!”
“Mitt!” shouted Hildy. She pointed. She meant simply to shout that Ynen was in danger, but it came out with a stammer of terror. “Yn— ynen!”
The rough water round the new island spouted up into a point. A wing shape of water whipped across Al and Ynen, knocking them sprawling. Hobin’s gun was flung against Mitt. Mitt had barely time to pick it up, before the new island was a hurricane of wind and water. Huge yellow waves crashed over what was left of the Wheatsheaf and broke halfway up the newly green hump. One wave, sluicing down, left Ynen clinging to the grassy mud between Mitt and Hildy. Though none of them could hear, or even think, Mitt hung on to Ynen, and Hildy leaned over him screaming, “It’s all right!” until her throat was sore.
Then it was over. The sea was rippling and calm. The island had gone on greening in spite of the waves, and it was now as green a hump as the Ganter Islands. There was little of the Wheatsheaf left—just a few spars floating nearby. Nor was there any sign of Al. But where he had been there was a curiously shaped patch of green corn, growing and ripening, and crackling like fire with the speed of its growing.
The crew of the Wheatsheaf called remarks to one another and began rowing in to look at the new island. Navis stood shakily up at the top of the mound and shouted through the twilight to know if Hildy and Ynen were there.
Mitt shook the water out of his eyes. Ye gods! he thought. What happens if you say his big name?
A desperate thrashing in the water just below him caught his eye. He slid carefully down to look. Lithar’s young-old face looked up at him imploringly. Mitt knelt on the salty turf, holding out a hand, and Lithar struggled toward it.
“You should learn to swim,” Mitt said, catching hold and heaving him to land.
“Never could,” said Lithar. “No more tricks, please.”
The nearest boat arrived then, and Jenro leaned out of it. “I will stir you over to Wind’s Road, you and the two other little ones and their father.”
“Thanks,” said Mitt. “And then you take Lithar home and look after him for me.” He looked at Lithar, but Lithar was not attending. He was looking woefully at his knee. His apple tree had gone. “He’s a bit in the head,” Mitt explained.
“We know that he is,” Jenro said, without expression.
“Do what I tell you,” said Mitt. “You look after him. You. And don’t let anyone else get at him.” Jenro still looked expressionless. Mitt was exasperated. “You’ve got to have someone until I come back,” he said. “And he needs looking after.”
“Until you come back,” said Jenro. He smiled. “Very well. Will you all five climb in and I will stir to the Wind’s Road?”
Riss leaned down to help Navis, Ynen, Hildy, and Mitt aboard Wind’s Road. As soon as they were up, he slid down into his own rowing boat and untied it.
“I think I’d better take first watch,” said Navis, rather wearily, looking at the three tired children.
“You do that,” Mitt said. He felt exhausted. He had barely strength to wave to Jenro and Riss.
They waved back. “Go now on the wind’s road and return sevenfold,” said Jenro. The island men sat in their boats and watched Wind’s Road lean away North in the brown tag end of sunset, carrying Libby Beer behind and Old Ammet in her bows.