Authors: Shamus Young
Gilbert had nearly caught up to the man while they were up on deck, but Soot had begun to pull away again amongst the confusing dark turns below. Gilbert couldn’t take advantage of his greater strides in such tight spaces.
“He’s coming!” Soot screamed as he ran. He shouted this again and again, his voice faltering near the end from his desperate panting for air. Soot was stumbling as his strength ran out.
At last Soot jumped down a ladder into the hold. It was a long drop, but Gilbert saw there was a net at the bottom to break his fall. Soot was still gasping, “He’s coming. He’s behind me! He’s coming!”
Gilbert followed, and on the way down he saw the net wasn’t there to break anyone’s fall. It was lying slack on the floor, which was a very strange thing. No self-respecting crew would leave something like that unsecured.
Gilbert landed in the middle of the net and realized too late what a profoundly stupid thing he’d just done. There was a loud bang and the net gathered him up and pulled him into the air. Gilbert found himself suspended from the ceiling of the hold. There were other items up here as well - bits of luggage or cargo that needed to be kept safe from rats or water. He was face-down, with his arms dangling helplessly below him. He tried to turn over, but he had no leverage and he simply wiggled about impotently in the trap.
Soot limped out into view, gasping and holding his side. At first Gilbert thought the man was coughing, but then he realized Soot was simply trying to laugh. A large man, bald and bearded, stood forth holding a lantern, the only source of light in this part of the hold. It was Ivar, and clearly he’d been the one to spring the trap. He pounded Soot on the back and joined him in laughter.
“You must be... the
stupidest
... son of a whore.... I’ve ever seen,” Soot huffed.
“I guess we’ll find out if she’s a whore or not when we meet her,” Ivar grinned. “We’ll have a
fine
time with her.”
“Scream for help if you like,” Soot taunted. “I’m sure the crew would be happy to cut you down.” The two men left, leaving Gilbert in darkness.
He pulled on the ropes helplessly. His face was pointed at the floor and his legs were pointed at the ceiling. He couldn’t see what he was doing. Eventually he gave up the struggle and began gnawing at the ropes like a rat. Progress was slow and not particularly flavorful.
A few minutes later there was a terrible sound. What was it? They were too far south for icebergs. Did a boiler explode? While he was still pondering this there was another explosion. And another.
Simon pulled his head out of the water and sputtered, “Alice? Alice!” His ears were still ringing from the magical detonation, but he was almost positive he’d heard more explosions in the past few minutes.
The surge of water had pushed him through the ship, and by now he’d lost his bearings. The tumble had sent him flailing, groping for purchase with one hand while holding his glasses to his face with the other. He’d managed to lose his hat in the process. Eventually he’d been washed into a place where the water allowed him to stand. He could see a ladder leading hopefully upward to the light. He clung to it for a few moments, hacking and coughing up the icy seawater he’d swallowed. A body floated past in the surging foam. It was the slain crewmen.
He was dangerously cold. Even the slightest bump against his hands produced intense pain. The water had stolen his strength, and he was afraid he would lose his grip on the ladder.
“Alice!” he called again, more weakly this time. He looked up the ladder. It seemed an impossible climb. Alice was missing, and was most likely drowned. He felt so tired, and everything seemed hopeless. He thought he might just let go of the ladder. He could let the waves take him to a swift and merciful end. He’d stolen a few days of warm food, companionship, and joy. Like a prisoner who has just finished his last meal, it was time for him to meet his end.
Simon remembered the many seeming friends in Ravenstead. Although he could no longer recall their names, he could remember the faces of boys who died of sickness or punishment, and many others who were taken from the group by their masters and never returned. Simon had learned to accept these random cruelties of the world and came to understand that life was a long road of loss and misery. He pushed through his life with his head down, hoping that each day’s ration of savagery would fall on someone else.
Then Gilbert and Alice had entered his life. They believed that misery and heartlessness were not the natural way of things, that these things might be resisted or even pushed back. They had kindled a flame of hope in him and seemed to know a world less desperate than the one he inhabited. Now it was plain that the last few weeks were simply a final cruel trick, a twist to give him something to love before taking it all away and sending him to die alone at the bottom of the cold ocean.
The water had been at his knees when he came to the ladder, and now it was at his hips. He looked down into the swirling water, wondering about the best way to get this nasty business over with.
Something floated by, a tangle of bright ribbons and hair. Simon reached out and hauled Alice out of the water. He pulled her to himself and shook her gently while calling her name. She didn’t respond, but his thread of hope had not yet been broken. He looked up the ladder. Drawing a deep breath, he slung Alice over his shoulder. She was alarmingly heavy for such a slight woman, mostly due to her waterlogged dress. He looked down at the black water, and then up towards the light. He knew he didn’t have the strength to carry himself up the ladder, much less with the additional burden of Miss White. But he thought it would be better to try. He imagined that was what Gilbert would do. He let out a furious (if perhaps slightly hoarse) cry and set himself to the challenge.
The ladder wasn’t perfectly vertical, but was sort of like a very steep staircase. That, combined with the alarming list that Callisto had developed, meant it was just barely possible to climb the ladder without plummeting back down with his burden. His arms were both numb from the cold, yet burning from the exertion. His legs were weak and faltered many times on the steps, causing him to strike his shins on the metal. Gritting his teeth, he gave a final cry and heaved himself onto the next deck.
Simon leaned against the wall and pulled Alice to himself. “Please wake up. Please wake up,” he whispered.
Alice vomited seawater and opened her eyes for a brief moment. Then she closed them again and began shivering. The two of them huddled together, slumped against the wall and breathing uneasily.
A great commotion came from above them. There was the sound of a multitude of footsteps and the voices of men and women shouting. Above this came the sound of a bell, ringing furiously.
Simon couldn’t tell how long they sat there. At one point he looked down and saw Alice’s eyes were open. Her breathing had stabilized and her teeth were chattering.
“Are you all right?” Simon asked quietly.
She nodded unconvincingly.
The water raged and surged below them, and each time it seemed to strike a bit higher than the time before.
“We need to move soon,” Simon said.
Alice sat up and pawed at her face with numb hands, wiping away water and pulling the wet hair out of her eyes. “Thank you,” she said in a barely-audible croak.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
She braced herself against the wall and pulled herself up. She wobbled for a moment and then took an uneasy step away from the wall. “Yes,” she said at last.
“I’m glad. A while ago I was very worried you had died.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “And I’m sure you’ve gotten the worst of it.”
“Me?” Simon laughed. “I have no problems that can’t be cured with a warm fire.”
“You silly man,” she smiled weakly. “Your head is bashed open!”
Simon wiped at his forehead and came away with a handful of blood. He’d assumed the wetness was just water draining out of his hair. “Is it bad?” he asked.
“It looks nasty, but I don’t think we should let it hinder our escape. The water will overtake us in a few more minutes if we don’t hurry. How can the ship flood so fast? Surely the ship can survive a single hole in the hull.”
“It’s more than one hole,” Simon explained. “I heard several explosions after the one we saw. Some were close, some were distant.”
It was not easy to move around. Callisto was listing gently starboard, and their wet shoes did little to help them on the smooth sloping floor.
“Up,” Alice said, pointing along the passage to the next ladder.
They stumbled along, slowly working their way out of Callisto’s belly. Crewmen sometimes dashed by them, sent on one desperate quest or another.
Finally, they emerged on deck. Light was slowly gathering in the early morning sky. A brisk wind washed over the ship. The decks were lined with passengers, elbowing and pushing their way to the rails. Lifeboats were being loaded and lowered.
“We need to fetch Gilbert,” Alice said.
Their room was in shambles. The door had been left open. Gilbert was gone. The bed had been stripped. The furniture had been ransacked.
“My bag is gone,” Alice said, horrified.
“A few of your clothes are still here,” Simon said, holding up an item that had been left on the floor.
“The book was in my bag,” she scolded him.
“Of course,” he said, suddenly feeling very silly. “But Gilbert is gone. Perhaps he’s already left the ship?”
“I can’t imagine they would load an old man before so many younger passengers, and so many women, but I can’t imagine where else he might have gone. And I can’t picture him being willing to carry a ladies’ bag, even if it were full of gold, or beer, or whatever the man values.”
“Maybe he came down after us,” Simon said worriedly.
“That would be very foolish, and is therefore very likely. I don’t know what we should do if that’s the case,” she sighed. “Well, we shouldn’t stand here waiting for the sea to rise up over our heads. He might be gone, he might appear later, but we need to find our own way off Callisto.”
The Callisto held roughly eighty first-class passengers, and the lifeboats had been offered to those people before the other passengers were allowed out of steerage. The crew was directing the passengers to allow women and children on first, followed by couples, followed by single men. The problem was that this was the opposite of the order in which the rooms were arranged. Men were bunked closest to the doors, while women were furthest in. The allowance for married couples before single men was unexpected, and created a sudden new marriage economy where men were offering valuables to shrewd women if they would agree to present themselves as wives. A great many arguments and a great deal of haggling was going on just a few steps from the boat loading. The crewmen noticed the sudden inflation of married folks, but they couldn’t afford to stop loading in order to sort things properly.
“We’re close to shore,” Simon noted hopefully. There was enough light that they could see the coast just a few miles away.
Alice glanced over the side of Callisto. The sea seemed alarmingly close. The ship shook and groaned with unseen damage as water filled her belly and she was pulled inevitably towards the bottom.
“The coast is near, but the ocean is closer still. There are so many people here. I don’t know that we’ll all find boats before Callisto falls.” Her voice was still weak. The cold water and exertion had taken their toll on both of them.
They walked along the tilting deck, watching the boats being loaded. Alice, still dizzy for her ordeal, stumbled for a moment. Simon caught her. As she stood again, she noticed streaks of red in the water rolling aft.
“Was someone hurt?” she asked as she steadied herself.
“Killed,” came a voice from behind. They turned, and found Armstrong on the deck. He looked very out of place outside of his engine room. He continued, “Three or four men came out on deck before the evacuation had even begun. Helped themselves to a lifeboat. One of the watchmen tried to stop them, and got a knife in the belly.
“What did they look like?” Alice blurted out.
“It was dark. Witnesses only saw them at a distance. They were men, and not crewmen, but that’s all we know. And if they didn’t have anything to do with this sabotage, then I’m the queen,” Armstrong looked towards the shore. Callisto was now adrift and had turned so that her bow pointed north. Armstrong spoke bitterly, “Their boat will reach shore first, before news of them.” He looked like he might weep.