Ginny grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around.
The narrow street descended in a series of sharp switchbacks, passing crowded houses and shops, and eventually emptying out at the seashore. Wharves, docks, and piers festooned the coastline, making a haphazard silhouette against the steely sky. Some of the slips were occupied with rusting fishing boats, others with immaculate touring yachts, still others with enormous, looming cargo ships. Green waves smacked at the hulls, lifting and dropping them monotonously. Merlin whistled as he walked, leading the group along a warped boardwalk, passing ship after ship. Workers in heavy coats and dark woolen caps barely looked up as the group passed by, ogling and wide-eyed.
"What kind of ship will we be going in?" Izzy asked, her voice full of wonder. "Will it be one of the big ones?"
"Probably not one of the big ones," Petra answered with a smile in her voice.
"Is it a cruise ship?" Ralph mused hopefully. "They have buffets on cruise ships."
The crew walked on and on. The sun finally began to burn away the dense clouds and became a hard white ball on the horizon, casting its reflection onto the ocean in a long blinding stripe.
"Here we are," Merlin finally announced. They had reached the end of the boardwalk. It was virtually deserted, overshadowed by a rocky promontory decked with a very antiquated lighthouse. James was surprised to see his grandfather's old Ford Anglia parked near the end of the boardwalk, its engine idling smoothly.
Albus frowned quizzically. "What's Granddad's car doing here?"
Ginny replied distractedly. "Go help your father unload now. Hurry, all of you."
"Unload what?" Ralph asked as she herded them forward.
Merlin produced his staff, which always seemed to be with him, hidden somewhere just out of sight despite its rather impressive size. He tapped it on the boardwalk and the Anglia's boot popped open.
"Ah," Ralph said, answering his own question. "Manual labor."
"Cool!" Albus crowed, running forward. "It's got all of our trunks in it. Did you send it ahead all by itself? Can it drive on its own?"
"It was your grandfather who taught it that particular skill," Merlin replied, smiling. "The more I learn about him, the more impressed I become. Put the trunks right here on the boardwalk, if you please. I will alert the portmaster of our arrival."
"But where's the ship?" James asked, glancing around the deserted pier below.
Merlin either didn't hear him or chose not to answer. He strolled ponderously up the crooked, curving staircase that led to the door of the lighthouse.
"Hop to it, men," Harry cried heartily, reaching into the boot and heaving out one of the trunks. As with many wizard spaces, the boot was rather larger inside than would have seemed possible from without. Eventually, James, Albus, and Ralph stood next to a precariously stacked tower of trunks, cases, crates, and bags.
"Good thing I had that biscuit," Ralph breathed, wiping his brow. "Merlin was right. Traveling is hard work."
James glanced up at the lighthouse, looking to see what the Headmaster was up to. As he watched, the small door in the side of the lighthouse opened. Merlin strode out, his head lowered as he traversed the narrow, leaning stairway.
"Hold tight, everyone," he announced. "Prepare to board."
Behind him, a loud, low note suddenly sounded, emanating from the lighthouse's high lantern. It was a singularly lonely sound, echoing long and deep over the water. James recognized it as the sound of a foghorn. When the sound finally died away, chasing its echoes over the distant waves, a beam of light appeared from the decrepit lighthouse. Ginny gasped at the brilliance of it as it speared out into the gloomy morning, seeming to extend all the way to the horizon. Slowly, the beam began to turn.
James stumbled. He grabbed out and clutched a handful of Ralph's sweatshirt, only then noticing that Ralph was staggering as well. The two of them clambered backwards against the Anglia.
"What's happening?" Albus called.
"Stand fast, landlubbers," Uncle Percy laughed, holding onto his wife Audrey and daughter Molly. "You just haven't gotten your sea legs yet."
"Watch," Lucy announced, pointing toward the lighthouse's beam.
James watched. Strangely, it seemed as if the beam was, against all probability, standing perfectly still. It was the world itself that was revolving, pulled around in a long smooth axis by the anchor of the spotlight's beam.
"There," Harry announced. "Our ship appears to be coming in."
James followed his father's gaze and saw a long sleek boat appearing from around the rocky promontory. Like the beam of light, the ship appeared to be standing perfectly still as the ocean revolved beneath it, sending its waves up beneath the bow and turning them into briny foam. The ship was long and sleek, with a polished wooden hull stained deep brown, festooned with glittering brass portholes and fittings, tall, complicated masts and a single black smokestack jutting up from the center. Painted white letters along the prow proclaimed the name of the ship: Gwyndemere.
Ponderously, the pier angled toward the ship until it pointed directly at it. Figures moved about on the deck of the ship, shouting to each other and manning the rigging. James grinned as one of the deckhands heaved a length of rope over the side, Disapparated from the deck, and then Reapparated on the pier seconds later to retrieve the rope as it thumped onto the planks. He looped it industriously around an iron bollard, anchoring the Gwyndemere to shore. That accomplished, the beam of light ceased turning and switched off. James stumbled again as the world seemed to shudder into place.
"Everyone aboard," Percy called, striding down onto the pier, clutching his hat to his head as the wind picked up. "We've got a schedule to keep."
Merlin nodded approvingly, and then leaned toward the Anglia's driver's side window. He seemed to tell the car something, patted it lightly, and then stood back as it began to roll. It performed a neat three-point turn on the end of the boardwalk, and then puttered serenely away, its windows reflecting the low sky.
"I hope I packed enough socks," Ralph commented, watching the Anglia amble away. "I'd hate to run out of socks."
"I bet they have socks in America," Albus replied, smacking the bigger boy on the shoulder. "Let's risk it, eh?"
James smiled and followed his family down onto the pier, enjoying the sound of the waves and the misty breeze. Gulls circled overhead and alighted on the waves around the ship, where they bobbed like corks. More deckhands Apparated onto the pier, moving economically toward the stack of baggage, which they began to lug toward the ship.
A gangway appeared, steep and narrow, connecting the ship to the end of the pier. James couldn't be sure if the gangway had grown out of the pier or extended down from the ship. Either option seemed just as likely. He ran ahead, chased closely by Lucy, Izzy, and Petra, who was laughing with delight.
Once aboard, James looked around with unabashed wonder. From the deck, the Gwyndemere seemed simultaneously huge and cozy. Its bow and stern decks were separated by two recessed walkways, one on either side of the ship, accessed by stairs at the front and back. The walkways enclosed a high, long deckhouse, which dominated the center of the ship, fronted with the pilothouse. James could see men in white jackets and caps inside, moving busily about. An enormous ship's wheel turned gently back and forth as waves rocked the ship.