Phoenix Rising (13 page)

Peel opened his mouth, showing his tombstone teeth.

“No, Peel, I’ve had enough of your complaining. Head to the anchor – you’ll need to do Big Pad’s usual job when we dock.” Dee turned back to Toby. “You get those paddles stopped, we’re getting close.”

Toby nodded curtly and ran for the hatch. Dee was right, if he didn’t throw the paddles into reverse they would plough straight through the pier and then, honest traders or not, no one would want to do business with them.

Just before he dropped into the hatch he took a final breath of fresh sea air. It was going to be a blazing-hot day. Already the older pirates were wrapping scarves around their eyes to prevent them from going blind. Most had already thrown off their windcheaters, baring arms that still burned easily despite the years in the light. They gathered, ready for docking.

Theo pointed towards two little boats that had appeared from the port and were now heading towards the
Phoenix
to guide her in.

“Toby, we have to slow down,” the captain yelled, as he crouched over the rudder.

Toby nodded, opened the hatch and jumped inside.

The
Phoenix
docked with only the lightest of crunching sounds. She scraped her port side along the pier just long enough to make Toby concerned about his new, fragile, delivery line, then she bumped free so the fenders could do their job.

Peel had weighed the anchor and secured the lines and
now Toby stood on deck, Polly on his shoulder and Hiko at his side. The three of them were watching the captain, Dee, Rahul and seven other pirates who had their hair tied neatly under their scarves and sun-gauze over their eyes.

Carson and Oats, who normally joked and laughed their way through every task, were standing seriously.

Dobbs leaned on the gunwale, picking his nails with his small curved knife. Rita stood next to him. She frowned and slapped Callum’s hand away as he brushed up against her.

Harry and Simeon brought up the rear. They were the exact same height and build but otherwise like two sides of a coin. Harry was a pale-skinned Welshman; the lightest touch of the sun burned him red. Simeon on the other hand had the darkest skin Toby had ever seen – darker than Rahul’s, darker than Theo’s. His teeth flashed brilliant white when he smiled and he smiled all the time.

The group were lined up ready to climb down the gangplank that would take them from the
Phoenix
to the pier.

A whole new set of scents had smacked Toby when he climbed out of the boiler room. The sea smell was still strong, but now it was mixed with the reek of latrines, rotting fish and vegetables from the market that lined the
marina. Drying seaweed and limpets clung to the wooden pier, steaming and crackling in the sunshine.

Toby gaped. “I’ve never seen so much wood.” He leaned over the railing.

“They had power, remember.” Polly shuffled on his shoulder. “Didn’t need to burn everything up.”

“It’s worth a fortune.” Toby blinked. “Some of our best trades have been for combustibles.”

Polly nodded. “In a few years there’ll be enough wood grown back, but right now, it’s irreplaceable.”

Debris littered the dock; the remnants of the storm that had passed by the previous night. Market stalls lay broken on their sides.

Beside the port stood the remains of a petrol station, torn to pieces long ago, its sign still propped up by a single rusting pump.

Toby raised his eyes to the town itself. Close up he could see the narrow cobbled streets that wound between houses and the faded paint, smears of dirt and poor repair work.

Along the main street a line of military men jogged towards them. Toby’s eyes widened; they were big. Even the smallest was the size of Big Pad and they wore peaked caps that protected their eyes from the brightening sun.

“Look at them,” he whispered.

Polly leaned to whistle in his ear. “They had food when
no one else in the world did. They still aren’t as big as people were before the crisis.”

Toby didn’t take his eyes from them until they lined up at the end of the pier to await the
Phoenix
’s landing party. In front of them the bustle of the dock continued, tugging at his attention.

The fishermen Toby had seen earlier were tying their boats to the pier, but apart from the soldiers, fishermen and a few overseers, all the other activity on the dock seemed to be carried out by children.

Skinny children with dirty faces and wiry strength unloaded fish and filled barrows. Their high-pitched cries clamoured in Toby’s ears – warnings from one to another to catch a load, or step away from a dropping crate; curses when one of them got in the way of barrowloads of moving stock. They scurried between the armed men and women who dotted the pier.

“They’re all children.” Toby frowned. “Why aren’t the adults working?”

Hiko shrugged. “The dock rats are bought labour, like I was.”

Polly dug her claws into Toby’s shoulder as a scrawny gull swept past, cawing, to swipe a shellfish that had dropped between two planks. A ragged little girl, with shorn hair and sunburnt shoulders, tried to chase the gull
off and got a sharp clip around the ear when the bird made off with the morsel. She clutched her hands around her head and ducked away from the fisherman’s reach.

Toby raised his eyebrows. “Why do they need dock rats?”

“Use your brain.” Polly shoved him with her wing, still keeping her back resolutely turned. “The locals fish, farm, fight and work the turbines. They’re rich enough to bring in outside labour for everything else.”

Barnaby shaded his eyes again and glanced at his son. “Every port is different, Toby.” He lifted his sack of trade supplies. “Of course I’d like to avoid those that use slaves, but we can’t always be choosy and, if we were, Hiko wouldn’t have been able to stow away.” He shook his head. “I can’t shield you forever, son.”

Then the captain put a foot on the gangplank and looked around his ship. “Right, crew, think ‘honest trader’. Marcus, get started on the repairs, hopefully there’ll be supplies arriving at the
Phoenix
in fairly short order.” He looked over the town and then slowly turned back. “If we haven’t returned by nightfall, you’d better leave without us.”

“What?” Toby jerked. “No.”

The captain looked only at Marcus, and fingered his brass compass as he spoke. “You have my intent, make it
happen. If I don’t return, then Toby must be protected at all costs. I plan to be back by dusk. If I’m not, then something has gone wrong and they’ll be coming for the
Phoenix
, so get her out of here. Crocker knows the coordinates of the solar panels so he’ll be in charge of navigation.” His eyes flicked to his son. “Everything will be fine, Toby, but I can only do my job if I know you’ll do as I say and be safe.”

“I’ll obey orders, Captain.” He saluted, half mockingly. There was no way Toby was going to let the
Phoenix
leave without his father.

“Be sure that you do.” His father shifted his sack to a more comfortable position, adjusted his tool belt and put on his cracked glasses. The militia lining the dock awaited them. “Let’s trade.”

Toby, Hiko and Marcus stood in a line along the fallen mast facing Amit, Ajay and Uma. Peel and Crocker were prepared, at the other end, to steady the wood as it moved. The whole crew had tied their scarves around their foreheads and over their eyes. They didn’t often labour in such bright sun.

Marcus cracked his knuckles. “One, two, three…”

They all heaved and the ancient telegraph pole began to lift. Sweat dripped from Toby’s nose.

“Get under it, Uma,” Marcus gasped.

Toby’s shoulders popped and his aching ribs strained. Uma slid beneath him and took the weight. Slowly they shifted the mast away from the bridge and pivoted it until it lay parallel to the pier.

As it moved, the silver sail dragged, tearing on glass spears and metal struts. Each ripping sound made Toby flinch.

Finally Marcus indicated that they could drop the mast
and Toby wiped his forehead. Perspiration had pooled under his arms and stained his blue shirt black. Beside him, Hiko was breathing heavily.

“Well done.” Marcus rotated his shoulders until they cracked. “Theo and Nisha, can you work on cutting the old mast into tradeable chunks? Draft as much help as you need; I want it off the deck as soon as possible. Break it into as few pieces as you can – the bigger they are, the more they’ll sell for. Uma, can you repair the sail?”

Uma rubbed the material and frowned at the long rents. “It shouldn’t be a problem,” she said eventually. “I can’t promise complete wind-worthiness, but I can improve things.”

“Do your best.”

Uma nodded. “If Toby unties it, I’ll take it inside and keep Big Pad company.”

Toby looked up from the tie he had bent to unfasten. “He must be bored out of his mind. Why don’t we carry him out here?”

Marcus tightened the gauze around his eyes. Sweat was already soaking away its opacity. “Uma, does he need to be below, or can we bring him up to watch the repair work?”

Uma brightened. “Good idea. Peel can bring him up through the cargo hold.”

Toby coiled the halyard and pushed the freed sail
towards Uma then he looked back at the bridge. Without the mast plugging the wound, the
Phoenix
’s injuries looked even worse. The fibreglass roof had caved in completely. The windows were smashed and broken pieces stuck up like bones. Papers that had been pinned by the mast now fluttered in the wind, rain-smudged and useless. The captain’s sextant was in small pieces, the arc on one side of the bridge, the clamp and index bar on the other. Tiny bits of the horizon-mirror glittered in between.

“Ashes.” Marcus stood beside him. “Where do we start?” He rubbed his forearms, which were already glowing pink in the sun. “Right, everyone, let’s clear that bridge.”

Glass pieces littered the deck. Hiko ran to find a brush and bucket and began sweeping up. Toby joined the rest of the crew, who were pulling apart the housing. Toby’s back ached and his skin itched from the fibreglass powder that was working its way into his pores.

“Wish I’d gone on land,” he muttered, as Arnav began to cough.

Marcus shoved a fish hook into his hands. “I’ll take over here.” He pointed at the base of the old mast. “Clear that out, will you.”

Toby ran gratefully away from the clouds of dust,
crouched by the mast’s soggy remnants and began to work them free.

Slowly the pile of splinters by Toby’s side grew and a hole appeared in the
Phoenix
wide enough for a telegraph pole. Eventually he dropped the fish hook and used his screwdriver to pry out the last of the shards. As he was sanding the gaping hole smooth there was a shout from the pier.

Toby raised his head. “What is it?” he asked Marcus.

Marcus adjusted his eye-gauze, peered over the railing and then turned back with a grin. “The bartering must be going well.” He waved down to someone and pointed to the gangplank.

“What’ve they got?” Toby rubbed at the fragments that itched his face.

“You’ll see.” Marcus stepped out of the way and Toby heard grunting. As he watched, a long pole appeared over the railing. It was being carried above the heads of six dock rats.

Toby stepped back. He had never before met another boy his age and now here were six. Hiko sidled to his side, half hiding behind Toby’s back while he stared.

The new boys bulged with muscle. Toby was no weakling, but his strength was wiry. He pulled his shirt down over his elbows, abruptly self-conscious.

“How’s the hole, Toby?” Marcus called. “If it’s prepped, get that pole in place.”

Toby nodded. The visitors looked at him, bullishly silent.

He cleared his throat and pointed. “Can you put it in here for us?”

The boys continued to say nothing.

“Oh … do you not speak English?” Toby shuffled nervously. “Spanish, right?
Buenos Días. Hola
.” He raised his voice to the rest of the crew. “Does anyone speak Spanish?”

Hiko reached up and tugged at his arm. “They speak English here; it’s the lingua franca.”

Toby frowned. “What’s wrong with them, then?”

“They probably had orders to deliver the mast, not help fit it.” Marcus looked at the boys. “That right?”

The dock rats nodded.

“Well, you have to put it somewhere.” Marcus spread his hands. “You may as well put it in that hole over there.”

Still silent, the boys finally nodded and, ignoring Toby, carried the new pole to the hole. Hiko flinched out of their way, hiding behind Toby as they passed.

“Amit, Ajay – rigging,” Toby called. The boys holding the back of the mast jerked in surprise when the two pirates immediately shinned upwards holding a noose. The dock rats positioned the end of the mast in the hole and then they tilted it up as high as they could. When the mast had
reached a forty-five-degree angle, the boys stood with it balanced on their upraised hands.

One of them grunted, “Now what?”

“Ajay.” Toby waved and Ajay threw the noose. It looped around the mast. Toby took a deep breath. He would have to go beneath the dock rats to secure the rope.

He could feel the eyes of the crew on his back, but Toby clenched his fists and ran beneath the arm of the nearest dock rat. Immediately he was assaulted by the stench of unwashed bodies. Toby lived on a ship where washing was a luxury, but these boys smelled even worse than Crocker.

Quickly Toby grabbed the noose and tightened it around the pole, stealing glances at the rats around him as he worked. Close up Toby could see that the boys’ muscles were covered in sores and the rags of their shirts barely hid scarred chests and hollow bellies. The one who had spoken saw him staring and grinned slowly, disarmingly. His smile was sweet but his teeth were almost all missing.

Then Toby waved at Amit and Ajay, and the boys watched in fascination as the mast slowly lifted.

Toby helped guide the pole until it was angled correctly. There was a satisfying thunk as it dropped securely into the hole.

The crew cheered.

In a moment of camaraderie, Toby looked at the boy who had smiled. “I’m Toby.”

“D’von,” the boy grunted. Air whistled through his missing teeth as he spoke. The boy leaned forward, briefly blocking out the light and making Toby tense in fear. “Those big men, they listened to you.” The air lisped in and out of the gap, making ‘listen’ into ‘listhen’. It sounded strangely childish, at odds with his frame.

Toby nodded.

“But you’re smaller than them.” The boy frowned.

Toby shrugged. “Yes, but I know how things work.”

“You know how things work?” The boy looked at Toby with what might have been wonder.

“D’von.” A snarled order from the largest of the rats forced D’von to back away.

“Goodbye, Toby,” D’von lisped. He joined the others and began to back down the gangplank.

“Thank you,” Toby cried. He watched as D’von climbed the pier and disappeared into a gang of dock rats who were moving a crumpled canopy.

Then he turned back to the
Phoenix
.

“Good job.” Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. “Get some rods hammered into the pole to secure it. We’ll be able to furl the sail once Uma has finished the repair work.
At this rate we could be seaworthy before the captain gets back.”

“The bridge is clear,” Theo shouted from the deck housing. He stood beside a pile of broken fibre boards.

“Good.” Marcus buried his knuckles in his back. “Hiko, how’s the clean-up coming along?”

Hiko appeared from behind Uma carrying a clanking bucket of broken glass. “Done.”

Toby frowned. “What will we do with the rubbish?”

“Chuck it overboard, like usual.” Marcus shrugged.

Toby looked to the port side of the
Phoenix
where the dolphin was arcing from the first clean water he had ever seen. Sunlight glittered on its grey back. Even if he never saw it again, the dolphin would live forever in his dreams, a symbol of the possibility of natural beauty undamaged by his species. Perhaps the island, untouched by man, had been found by nature instead.

Toby grimaced. “Can’t we store it below till we hit the junk again?”

“Toby’s right, we shouldn’t litter the port.” Nisha caught his eye.

Marcus sighed. “Theo, store the rubbish.”

Toby looked at the space where the bridge had been. Next to Theo the primary steering mechanism was snapped in two and the gyroscope wobbled dangerously.
“I’d better go and find something to repair that with.”

Marcus nodded. “Crocker, go and barter for something we can eat, will you?”

“Why me?” Crocker spat overboard.

“Just
do it
, Crocker,” Marcus snapped. “I want to eat something that isn’t salt herring and waterlogged oats.”

“Try and find some decent beer, too,” Big Pad rasped. He struggled to lift his head and Uma raced to tilt his table. “I’m sick of your rotgut hooch.”

Crocker snarled. “I’ll be happy not to serve you next time.”

“Just find us something to eat and drink, Crocker. And be grateful you’re getting out of the hard work.” Marcus pointed to the gangplank and Crocker adjusted his scarf then stalked off the
Phoenix
.

Toby kneeled in front of the steering wheel, stroking his fingers over the snapped post. His tools lay at his side, displayed like a surgeon’s blades. Beside him he had a selection of wires, poles and hammered metal patches. To his right a small brazier burned. The acrid smell was keeping the gulls away and most of the crew as well. Hiko curled up in the corner, watching him; Polly was a familiar weight on his shoulder.

After a moment’s consideration he picked up a metal patch with a set of pliers and held it in the fire.

“What’re you up to, boy?” Peel said almost jovially, as he leaned over the guardrail. Toby wrinkled his nose. The man’s skin was slimy with the sweat that rolled down the thick folds of his neck.

“Repairing the steering. Shouldn’t you be doing something with the food Crocker brought back?”

“Oh yes. We’ve a nice barbecue going on the prow. We’ll have some hot food today at least.” Peel licked his slug-like lips. “Just come to let you know, in fact. Tuna’s done.”

Toby’s gut rumbled but he sighed. “I don’t have time.” He turned the metal in the brazier; it was starting to glow. “Hiko does though. Hiko, go and get some food.”

Hiko wiggled his way to Toby’s side and whispered in his ear, “I don’t like the fat man.”

Peel chortled. “No need to be scared of me, Hiko. You just head on up to the prow and Crocker’ll see you right. You’ve had no food before now if you’ve not had my barbecue. Crocker even managed to score some potatoes.”

Hiko looked at Toby, wide-eyed and pleading.

“I’ll send Polly with you.” Toby shrugged Polly off his shoulder and on to Hiko’s.

Hiko licked his lips, hesitated one more moment then
scuttled out from the bridge awning, around the brazier and up to the prow, looking back every few steps.

Toby pulled the metal from the brazier and glanced up. Peel remained watching him with narrowed eyes.

“You think you’re special, little boy.” Peel ran a single finger along the guardrail. “Just because you went off ship and saved a life? I saved a life. I saved more’n one and I
took
a lot more’n that.”