The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons (21 page)

Read The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons Online

Authors: Barbara Mariconda

BOOK: The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons

12.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

What had been the center pole that graced the grand staircase rose majestically from the deck, taking on a new life as the mainmast. The support column holding up the front of the house became the foremast; the column at the rear, the
mizzenmast. Her beams running the length of the cellar ceiling, supporting the main floor, were resurrected as yardarms crossing the top of each of the three masts, creating tall T shapes. Each of the yardarms supported a number of crisp white sails. Father's rope ladder he'd hung below my bedroom window now proudly spanned the side of the vessel and the yardarms, inviting us up to the foretop platform for an eagle's-nest view. What used to be the furnace was now a large capstan winch holding the anchor cable. The cable ran along the cathead to the huge anchor from Father's ship, which had graced our side yard since the day, years ago, when Father had left the sea.

I closed my eyes for a moment, attempting to take it all in. My beloved homeâmy father's “ship on shore,” as he loved to call itâhad undergone the most amazing transformation. It was still glowing slightly, the shimmer traveling down along the planking and rippling out into the sea. The water took on a calm, phosphorescent quality as the glow dissipated in its depths. The waves subsided, as did the rocking of our vessel. Father' ship's wheel hummed and spun back and forth, begging for the steady guidance of a firm hand.

“Ahhh! Arghhh!”

The strangled cry came from one of the portholes
below the main deck, on what had once been the first floor of my house, but was now probably the berth deck. I looked to the bow to discover Aunt Margaret and Uncle Victor, reaching, reaching out from what used to be the hall window, the mist swirling wildly around them. I gasped as they began a transformation as well, mutating into wood, their flesh stiffening and darkening, becoming etched with knots and lined with grain until all that remained of them was a most remarkable figureheadâtheir bodies and arms entwined, stretching greedily over the sea, bulging eyes devouring the waves in a desperate, deathly attempt to take hold of something just beyond their grasp.

I stepped back, joining the others, who stood in a tight little circle on the deck, incredulous. All of them, save Marni, seemed rather dazed in the face of the astonishing metamorphosis. Marni waited calmly as, one by one, we stirred, our eyes following the path of ivory moonlight shimmering on the water. A gentle snap roused us further, a sound that has filled many a sailor with delightâthe sound of the evening breeze catching and filling the sails.

The Brute began to come to. “Grab him under the arms,” Walter yelled.

Addie, Marni, and I each grabbed a limb, and
together we lifted him into the small dinghy that hung alongside the vessel. Walter carefully slipped a large cork life buoy over his shoulders, and Addie positioned a pair of oars securely in the oarlocks. “There,” Walter said, satisfied. “No one could say we didn't help him!”

Georgie and Annie stood back, wide-eyed, as Marni and I turned the winch and lowered the dinghy into the sea. “Good-bye, Poppy!” Annie yelled, relief in her voice. It seemed we all understood that he was not to be a part of our voyage, that ensuring his safety had fulfilled any obligation owed him, imagined or otherwise. He slowly awakened, and sat gawking at our magnificent craft sailing into the moonlight. We watched the dinghy drift into the distance as the wind in our sails carried us farther and farther out across the bay.

Marni nodded, a serene smile spreading across her face. “Aye, mates,” she said, “it looks like smooth sailing ahead.”

W
e crowded together at the bow, quiet in our collective amazement. I rested my head on Addie's shoulder and gathered Annie and Georgie in close. Walter placed a hand on my shoulder, the other on the rail of the ship, his eyes searching out some distant shore. Even Mr. Pugsley seemed content and calm there at our feet, his flat snout raised, sniffing the salt air.

I gazed back to the stretch of shore that had been oursâmine and Father's and Mother's. The garden shed that had previously been dwarfed by the house stood exposed and lonely on the hill.
I wondered, as our ship sailed along, if old Mr. Mathers and Gert had witnessed our passage. Or what people would make of the judge doing the dead man's float across the bay.

I chanced one last look at the now barren and desolate spot where the turrets of our house had graced the horizon, and closed my eyes to memorize the image of what used to be.

Then, as we sailed out toward the open sea, I vowed never to look back again.

It occurred to me that most of our dreams had been fulfilled: Walter was sailing his grand ship, Georgie and Annie would soon have an ocean of safety between them and their father. Addie's fervent desire to have Aunt Margaret and Uncle Victor relinquish control of the house had come to pass, although certainly not in the way she had imagined. Marni, the protector of lost children, had led us all to safety.

And what about me and my dreams?

The house was mine againâperhaps not as I'd ever envisioned it, even in my wildest imaginings, but it was mine. All this and, thanks to Walter, a satchel full of more money than I'd ever laid eyes upon. Of course, there was still Aunt Pru, and the mystery of the Simmons family curse.

We stood together at the helm, each lost in our
own thoughts. What now? What next?

Finally, it was I who spoke.

Never had I felt as sure of something, as decisive as in that moment with the moon illuminating our way. My days of waiting were past. Now was the time to act! “We'll need a crew, and supplies,” I said forcefully. “Walter, check the chart room!” I was sure, beyond a doubt, that Father's maps would still be there, waiting, ready to unfurl in our hands. “Gather the maps so we can chart our course!”

Marni nodded. Addie raised her eyebrows and cried, “I say we christen this fine vessel the
Lucy P. Simmons
!” It was all the affirmation I needed.

“Where are we going, Lucy?” Annie asked, her blue eyes wide, trusting.

“To find my aunt Pru,” I declared. “Will you help me?” I eyed them, one after the other. “Australia is a long way off, but together we can do it!”

Walter, Georgie and Annie, Addie and Marni gathered around me in a crushing embrace, which I could only take as a solid yes! Mr. Pugsley circled us, yipping at our feet. We joined hands, raised them in the air.

The flute, still snuggled in my pocket, sang as never before; the bell outside the chart room clanged vigorously.

Against a brilliant fireworks display of glittering diamond dust, the
Lucy P. Simmons
carried us off together on what I knew would be a most spectacular voyage.

About the Author

Photo by Peter Friedman

When she isn't writing,
BARBARA MARICONDA
spends her time empowering the next generation of authors in classrooms today through her company, Empowering Writers. She has authored scores of books for children and their teachers and is continually inspired by travel around the world. She lives in Connecticut with her faithful shih tzu, Little Man. You can visit her online at www.barbaramariconda.com.

Visit
www.AuthorTracker.com
for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors and artists.

Credits

Copyright

Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-0-06-211979-7

EPub Edition Â© JULY 2012 ISBN: 9780062119810

12 13 14 15 16 LP/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1