At first, it looked like all was going well. The portal rapidly grew closer, and the Moth continued to sail straight at it.
Then, when it was only yards away, the portal began to totter and shake, and the top edge started to lean forward. Behind it, in place of the normal sky, was a dark mass that glittered like some volcanic stone.
The Void of Nothing.
"Faster!" shouted Scamandros, fear in his voice. "Make the ship go faster!"
Denizens who had been frozen in awe sprang into action, goaded again by the now unbelievably loud voice of Sunscorch. Yards were trimmed, ropes hauled, sails hoisted where sails were hardly ever seen.
"Faster!" screamed Scamandros. The portal was falling towards them now, and instead of dragging it with the fire irons, the Doctor was trying to hold it up. Darkness rippled behind it. "We must get through before it drops!"
The portal fell farther, and the bowsprit of the Moth pierced its shining jigsaw-crazed surface. Then the bow passed through, and the rest of the ship followed. The light changed to a softer, golden tone, and the breeze around Arthur became instantly warm.
As the sternpost of the Moth passed the portal, Scamandros fell to the deck, his fire irons clattering at his side, no longer anything more than lengths of bronze. The portal, its work done, collapsed in on itself. The threat of Nothing was gone.
But there were other troubles for the Moth.
"Splashdown! Brace!" roared Sunscorch. "Take hold!"
Arthur instantly shuffled back and wound his arms through the port-side ladder. He knew from the volume of Sunscorch's order that this was serious.
The Moth had come through the portal all right, but because of the angle of entry, they had not come through at the same level. The ship had entered this new world thirty feet above the water.
Now it was crashing down into the sea.
Before the echo of Sunscorch's shout had gone, the ship tilted precipitously forward. Arthur saw Ichabod slide past, till the Denizen managed to grab hold of a grating. Other Denizens tumbled along farther down the deck and some fell or jumped from the rigging, though as far as Arthur could tell they went into the violet sea.
Then the ship struck. Arthur's legs went up in the air but he managed to keep hold of the ladder. His good foot kicked desperately for a hold as he tried to avoid sliding down the deck to the bow, which went completely underwater. For a dreadful second it looked to Arthur like the whole ship was going to nosedive straight into the deeps. But though the forward twenty feet or so were completely covered in foaming water, the Moth somehow came back up with a violent rolling action that spilled more Denizens into the sea.
Arthur was covered in spray, but he kept his grip. Gradually, the Moth's roll slowed. Ichabod got up, dusted himself off with a tsk-ing noise, and walked back to Arthur. The splinter that had been in his stomach was gone, but the waistcoat was still sodden with blue blood.
"Come down below," said Ichabod. "I've stopped bleeding but I have to help the Doctor if there's anyone really seriously wounded."
"Is it safe to stand up?" asked Arthur. He didn't want to even guess what really seriously wounded might mean.
Ichabod looked around.
"I trust that is the case," he replied. "We have made it clear through the Transfer Portal. The sea here is quite placid, at least at present."
Arthur climbed wearily to his feet, grimacing as pain shot through his leg. When that subsided a little, he looked around. Sunscorch was giving orders, but not very loudly. Denizens were climbing back up the rigging and the ones that hadn't fallen off were already inching their way out across the yards, getting ready to furl the sails.
It all looked surprisingly calm, until a Denizen stuck his head out of a forward hatch and shouted, "Mister Sunscorch! She's cracked a dozen strakes or more! There's four foot of water in the well!"
Arthur looked at Ichabod.
"I believe that means we are sinking," Ichabod said calmly. "Doubtless we shall hear more in a moment. Allow me to remove some flecks of wood from your coat."
Without waiting for permission, Ichabod started to remove tiny pieces of wood from Arthur's shoulders, reminding the boy how easily they could have been larger splinters that would have killed him.
He had to get out of the way as Sunscorch ran back to the quarterdeck, jumping halfway up the steps. There was a confused milling about going on around the wheel. As far as Arthur could tell, Doctor Scamandros was barely conscious, but he had all the maps. They needed the maps to work out what to do before the ship sank, which was going to happen within the next thirty minutes at the rate they were taking in water through the cracked hull.
Though Captain Catapillow and First Mate Concort were both there, once again it was Sunscorch who really took charge.
"I'm guessing you'll want us to beach her dead ahead on Counter-Crab Beach, Captain?" Sunscorch asked, quite calmly. He pointed at Forlorn Island, which was only a mile or so away. "I've been here before, more than once. Good deep sand, quite steep. Once we're aground we can warp her about and careen her."
"Um, yes, very good, carry on, Mister Sunscorch," said Catapillow. "I'm just going to... ah... see to the situation belowdecks. Counter-Crab Beach, eh? Excellent. Excellent. Mister Concort, I believe we may leave the ship to Mister Sunscorch."
"Pardon?" asked Concort. The back of his coat was peppered with many holes, some of them stained with his own blue blood. "Aye, aye, sir."
They both left the quarterdeck, trooping down past Arthur and Ichabod. Neither looked at the boy and they seemed in a hurry to get back to the Captain's cabin. Catapillow was muttering something about humidity, gum Arabic, and perforated edges.
"Exciting times," said Ichabod. "We don't normally have these sorts of goings-on going on. Not for a hundred years or more, we haven't. Come on."
"Can't we stay on deck?" asked Arthur as they walked away. He was still feeling very shaky after the shock of the cannon blast and, as he had expected, was already having a little trouble breathing now they had left the House. He also had little inclination to see the 'really seriously wounded" and had a strong inclination to stay out in the open air. If he went below he thought he might throw up from reaction to shock. He needed fresh air and distraction.
"I suppose we might," said Ichabod. "The Captain and Mister Concort will be checking over the collection. They won't notice anything else. And Doctor Scamandros will call if he needs me. We shall ask permission to join Mister Sunscorch on the quarterdeck."
Ichabod called up, and after a moment Sunscorch nodded and waved them both up. The original two helmsmen had gone below to have their wounds treated, accompanied by Doctor Scamandros. They had been replaced by two of the Denizens who had brought Arthur in from the buoy.
"A fine bit of sailing and no mistake," said Sunscorch as Arthur rejoined him. The Denizen seemed very cheerful. "There's not many as can say they showed the Shiver a clean pair of heels."
"But aren't we sinking?" asked Arthur.
"We're taking water, that's certain," said Sunscorch. "But we'll be on the beach afore she drowns. And just as well, for there's at least a week's worth of repairs to be done."
"A week!" Arthur protested. He coughed as he spoke, sudden anxiety making his chest tight. A week out in this Secondary Realm might mean a week lost in his own world. He still didn't understand how time worked between the House and the Secondary Realms, but it couldn't be good to be out here for so long. What if he lost a week at home? His parents would freak out. So would Leaf's. Plus, he didn't have any asthma medication, so he might not even survive a week. What if his broken leg got worse?
"I can't spend a week on some deserted island!"
"You'll have to, "less you're a better swimmer than you look," replied Sunscorch. "There's precious little on this world. Lots of islands, some things you might call fish and fowl, and a bit of useful timber, that's all. A safe haven from both Feverfew's pirates and any nosy parkers from the House."