“Hurry up down there,” Sprott shouted to the crew who were fixing the starboard engine. They would have been gone long before but for the engine playing up. It was high time they got away across the Atlantic. He’d given orders to have the thing on the deck hosed down every ten minutes but it wasn’t eating. None of the creatures were eating…they needed to be in proper cages.
For a moment he wondered if the little boy was dead — the one who’d tried to stop them in the cave. Probably not — the skulls of children were tougher than you’d think. All the same he’d be glad to be gone.
“I thought I told you to hurry,” Sprott shouted once again.
But still the Hurricane lay unmoving on the grey sea — and on her deck, the little kraken, his heart broken, prepared for death.
Minette sat on the floor of the boxroom, her hands round her knees, and waited for Fabio to wake.
She had been there for several hours and she would not move however much the aunts complained.
“You’re not helping him,” said Etta. “He’ll come round when he’s ready.”
But she did not speak in her usual brisk voice, and Minette took no notice. All the aunts were like wraiths since the kraken had gone.
So Minette watched and waited by her friend. Outside, in the bathroom, she could hear the high, stupid voices of Betty’s children.
“There’s something nasty in the washbasin. It smells fishy. You can’t clean your teeth,” whined Boo-Boo.
“It’s eaten my Tinkerbell toothpaste. I don’t like it here. I want to go home!”
“I want to go home too. I want to go home now.”
Minette sighed. She could never get used to the awfulness of Boo-Boo and the Little One. What was in the washbasin was the merbaby, Walter. He was missing his mother, and chewed anything he could reach.
Fabio lay without moving on the bed; the bandage round his head stood out very white in the darkened room. What if he didn’t come round at all?
But that was stupid. He was breathing. He had concussion, that was all.
Minette shut her eyes, remembering. They’d been in the cave, telling the kraken a story…trying to stop him going too near the entrance. Then suddenly something had hurtled down from the opening in the cliff above them and landed in the water. A man they had never seen before, gasping and struggling for breath.
They hadn’t been frightened at first — not till he clambered out and stared at the kraken…stared and stared…Then he felt in his sodden clothes, and from an oilskin pouch he took out a whistle and blew three sharp shrill blasts.
They had understood then. Fabio charged at the man, trying to wrench the whistle away, but it was too late. More men came from the sea and the cave filled up with shouting and torchlight and the glint of weapons…Minette had gone to the kraken’s head, slipping into the water with him, trying to calm him but the net came down over them both…He’d thought it was a game at first — cruelty was something he couldn’t understand — and she’d half hoped they’d take her with him so that she could comfort him. But they had pulled her out roughly and thrown her back into the pool.
And as she climbed out she’d seen Fabio lying on the ledge of rock…and the blood seeping from his head…
Out in the corridor the Little One was whimpering again. “They’ve given me the wrong sweeties. I’ve got blue sweeties and I’m a girl. Girls ought to have pink sweeties.”
It was another hour before Fabio stirred, but then he was awake at once.
“Have they got him? Has he gone?”
“Yes.”
Fabio put a hand to his head. “Did they knock me out?”
“They kept thumping your head against the stone.” Minette’s voice broke as she remembered Fabio’s courage and the cruelty of the men.
“And the others? The stoorworm…the mermaids?”
“They’ve got everyone except Walter.”
Fabio had managed to sit up.
“Is the Hurricane still there?”
“Yes. We don’t know why but she is.”
“Then we must board her. We must rescue him. We must rescue everybody.”
Minette stared at him. “You’re mad. How could we? We’ve only got the Peggoty—and the aunts won’t let us out of their sight. We’re really prisoners now because they blame themselves for you being hurt and because they left the creatures unguarded to help Myrtle. You’ve no idea what it’s like down there. And Dorothy broke one of the thug’s noses with her wok; they dragged him back to the boat but there’s blood everywhere.”
Fabio took no notice. “We have to. We have to get to him.”
“Even if we did, what could we—” began Minette and broke off. She felt like Fabio underneath. They had to try and help.
Fabio had pushed back the bedclothes. The room spun round, then steadied. He was just trying his feet on the floor when the unspeakable Boo-Boo came in.
“That’s my teddy you’ve got there. I put him to sleep in your bed when you were in the cave and I want him because we’re going to play Mummies and Daddies in the garden and he’s my little boy.”
Fabio threw the stuffed animal across the room.
“Get out,” he said. And then: “There must be someone who could help.”
Minette looked at him. He had had an awful blow to his head — would he be able to cope with any more strangeness?
But that was silly. Fabio could cope with anything.
“There is somebody,” she said.
Herbert sat quietly on the point and looked out to the sea which until yesterday had been his home. He wore a pair of Art’s trousers, stripy socks and a sweater of the Captain’s. The clothes felt prickly on his skin, and his soul felt prickly too. The tears of Myrtle, the despair of the aunts, buzzed round his head. It had been so quiet in the sea.
But what was done was done. He was a man now, not a seal, and it was as a man that he must try to help the kraken’s son.
The Peggoty was in the boathouse. She was only an old fishing boat, not a tenth the size of the Hurricane, but if he could get alongside and get a grappling hook on to the deck he could climb up the rope and board her. Some selkies, when they changed shape, had trouble with their arms and legs, but his were strong.
He was checking the Peggoty’s oars, when Fabio and Minette appeared in the doorway of the shed. Fabio had pulled a woollen cap over his bandage.
“We want to go with you,” said Minette.
Fabio was silent. He had expected to find it a shock meeting someone who not twenty-four hours ago had been a seal, but now nothing mattered except to get to the Hurricane. Herbert had been a handsome seal and he was a handsome man but what was important was that he looked trustworthy and reliable — and strong. Some people who listen to music on the cello can be a little arty and vague, but not Herbert.
“Have you asked the aunts?” said Herbert, coiling a rope.
The children did not answer. Then:
“We have to go. The kraken was our job. We have to help him, and the others too. We have to try,”
Herbert straightened himself and looked at them. He was a man now but he was not a man like other men. He had a sense of all nature being one…of children being part of the universe and not creatures set apart. He knew that if the little kraken died the sea would never be the same again, and he remembered that the kraken had trusted these two as he had trusted no one.