“Aw, it’s just about the mutiny that already happened,” Jonah said disappointedly, lowering the papers. “This doesn’t help us at all.”
“It could tell us what caused the mutiny,” Katherine said. “The background. So maybe we can see where time went off track. What’s that saying social studies teachers are always yammering on about—something like ‘Those who don’t remember history are forced to repeat it’?”
“That is not the reason we’re stuck in 1611,” Jonah said defensively.
But what if it was? What if JB should have paid more attention to what happened to Henry Hudson and his mutiny? Could that have made JB notice that Second was going to rebel against him?
“Here,” Jonah said. “If you think these papers are so important, you read them.” He thrust the papers into Katherine’s hands and gazed around. “I’ll watch out for icebergs.”
What he really wanted to do was pull out the drawing of Andrea he’d tucked in his pocket and stare at it. But he couldn’t do that in front of Katherine. He was sure he could feel the picture in his pocket, though, rustling a little, reminding him, This isn’t just about you and Katherine and JB and Second and time. Andrea’s life depends on you fixing 1611 too.
But how was he supposed to know how to fix anything? There weren’t even any tracers anymore, to show how time was supposed to go.
“It’s weird—this guy never gives his name, but he says he’s going to hide notes all around the ship, so the true story of the Discovery will get out even if all the good people are killed,” Katherine told him as she pored over the papers. “Why wouldn’t he give his name, so people would know to believe him?”
“That’s not so weird,” Jonah argued. “Don’t you think the mutineers would have killed him if they found the stuff he hid?”
“They tried to kill him anyway,” Katherine said. “Don’t you think? Don’t you think he was probably one of the sick guys in the shallop with us?”
Jonah tried to think if any of them had looked particularly sneaky, as if they’d left behind secret notes.
They’d all just looked as though they were about to die.
“What’s ‘perfidy’?” Katherine asked, still studying the papers.
“How would I know?” Jonah asked irritably.
“It must be something bad,” Katherine said. “This guy says the Discovery is full of it. Oh, here it is again, sort of—he calls his shipmates ‘perfidious cretins’—no way that’s a good thing.”
How could Katherine think about vocabulary words at a time like this? Jonah shifted uncomfortably on the creaky wood platform.
Just think about being a lookout. Watch out for danger. But how was he supposed to see danger coming when everything around them was a sea of gray?
“Boy!” someone shouted from down below. “See you land to the west?”
They had to be yelling at him.
“Um, uh …,” he called back. “I’m looking!”
First Jonah had to figure out which direction was west. He got a little help with that because Abacuk Prickett, who’d apparently been the one to yell, was standing down on the deck, pointing. Jonah squinted off into the distance. Were those dark, indistinct shapes land?
“Uh, yes!” he called back. “I mean, aye! I think so!” He squinted harder. “But it’s, like, broken in the middle. Straight west—there’s a gap!”
“A gap?” Prickett called back. “Think you that it’s a passage? It must be!”
“Jonah, look,” Katherine whispered, holding out the papers toward him.
“Shh. I’m trying to hear—,” Jonah whispered back.
But down below, Prickett had already turned away. He was clapping Henry Hudson on the back, shaking Hudson’s hand.
“Huh,” Jonah muttered. “Looks like they’re best buds now. I’m the one who saw the gap. Er—passage.”
“Jonah, read this,” Katherine insisted, holding the paper right in front of his eyes, so he couldn’t avoid it. She pointed to three sentences at the very bottom:
Of all the untrustworthy scoundrels on this ship, Abacuk Prickett ys the worst of all. Believe nothing he tells you; turn your back on him only if you wish to have a knyfe plunged into it. He ys to be feared above all others.
Jonah looked back toward the deck. Henry Hudson was still standing there, gazing toward the southwest. But Abacuk Prickett was nowhere in sight.
The ropes tied around the crow’s nest tightened, suddenly pulled taut. Puzzled, Jonah leaned out, trying to see the full range of rigging below him.
And there was Abacuk Prickett, already halfway up the ropes.
The “worst” scoundrel on the entire ship hadn’t disappeared. He was climbing right toward Jonah and Katherine.
“Jonah!” Katherine whispered, looking in the same direction. “There’s not going to be room for all three of us in the crow’s nest!”
“Can’t you climb down before he gets here?” Jonah asked. “Without bumping into—”
He stopped, because this wasn’t even worth asking. Most of the way up the rigging was basically just a narrow rope ladder.
Jonah looked down again. Prickett was getting closer and closer.
“Climb on my back,” Jonah told Katherine. “Hurry.”
Katherine grimaced, but quickly tucked the papers back under the canvas so both her hands were free. She put her arms around Jonah’s neck and started to lift her knees.
“You mean, piggyback?” she asked. “Or—should I get up on your shoulders? More out of the way?”
Jonah pictured this in his mind: Katherine perched on his shoulders while he stood in the crow’s nest, hundreds of feet off the ground, the ship swaying beneath them. If the ship hit a particularly rough wave, and Jonah or Katherine lost their balance for even a second, would Katherine topple over completely, out of the crow’s nest, pulling Jonah down with her?
“Just on my back,” Jonah muttered, through gritted teeth.
Katherine climbed on. Jonah locked his arms around her knees, and crossed his hands over his stomach—he hoped that didn’t look too unnatural. He backed up, trying to take up as little of the room in the crow’s nest as possible.
“Stay like that,” Katherine whispered.
Jonah realized she was sitting precariously on the narrow railing. This worked—as long as she could hold on to him.
Prickett’s weathered face appeared at the opposite edge of the crow’s nest.
“Stand aside, boy,” Prickett said irritably. “Make room for your betters.”
Jonah leaned away from Prickett—which leaned Katherine out even more, far over the edge of the crow’s nest. She tightened her grip around Jonah’s neck and let out a soft gasp.
“What’s that, boy? Did you say something?” Prickett asked, climbing into the crow’s nest. Unlike the technique Katherine and Jonah had used—landing mostly on their hands, and then turning over right side up, trying to dodge the mast—Prickett’s movements were confident and effortless. He entered the crow’s nest as easily as if he were merely striding into a room.
“N-no, sir,” Jonah stammered. “Do you wish to see the land and the passage?”
He braced himself and Katherine against the railing, and lifted one arm to point. His cloak puffed up oddly, trapped against Katherine’s arms encircling his neck. Jonah hastily pulled the cloak back into place.
Prickett didn’t see that, Jonah told himself. The mast blocked him. And he was already looking toward the land. Wasn’t he?
“The passage does exist,” Prickett murmured. “Just as your father always believed.”
Prickett spread his hands wide apart along the railing. He shifted his feet, taking up more of the crow’s nest. Jonah would have felt crowded in the tiny space even if he hadn’t had Katherine balanced on his back, leaning out over the rail.
“And there’s no sight of land to the north or south or east?” Prickett asked, turning quickly.
Katherine was perched on the railing to the south. Prickett lea
ned impatiently around Jonah, in that direction.
“Stand aside, boy,” he commanded.
His hand was about an inch from Katherine’s knee.
Jonah grabbed Katherine’s legs with both hands and slid her around to the right, toward the rigging. He let go with one hand and motioned behind his back, pointing down.
Katherine, this is not the time to be dense, he thought. Or scared or slow. Get out of here! Climb down!
He felt Katherine let go of his shoulders.
“Yes, yes, just as I expected,” Prickett said, moving around as he peered first to the south, then to the north and east. “Nothing in sight except to the west. Well, I’ve seen enough. I shall climb down now. Pray allow me passage.”
Jonah froze. He was pretty sure “pray allow me passage” actually meant “Get out of my way.” But Katherine had just started climbing down. She was still tugging on Jonah’s cloak even as Prickett said “allow.” If Prickett went down now, he’d run right into her.
Maybe even knock her off the ropes.
“Uh, sir!” Jonah said, standing up straight. He pointed in the opposite direction. “Look over there! Did you see—er, I mean, see you—the, uh …”
Way back at the beginning of this whole time-travel mess, before Jonah knew anything about what was going on, Jonah had fooled an FBI agent with the old “Look over there! What’s that?” ploy. He’d made up an imaginary plane crash, a ball of flame—he’d been downright inspired. But what in the world was he supposed to claim he saw out here, where there was nothing but gray sky and gray sea and gray fog? Land? They’d already established that the only land was off to the west. Some sort of animal? Would they have whales out here? Polar bears? Would they have been called polar bears in 1611?
Jonah settled on a feeble “Is that a fish?”
“A fish?” Prickett repeated. “One fish? You would have me believe you can see one fish swimming in this water, from their height?”
“I mean, fishes. A school of fish,” Jonah said quickly. He thought quickly. “Shouldn’t we go fishing? For more food?”
Prickett glared suspiciously at him, then took him by the shoulders and moved him aside.
“Out of my way! I shall report you to the captain for insolence!” Prickett threatened. “Mocking an officer. For shame!”
“No, no, I wasn’t mocking!” Jonah insisted, darting back to block Prickett’s way again. “I was … letting you know important information! Doing my job as lookout!”
Prickett’s glare intensified. Then he slammed his hands against Jonah’s chest, shoving him sideways.
“The captain shall be informed about all of this,” he said.
And then he began climbing down the rigging.
Where was Katherine?
Prickett’s bulk blocked her from view. Jonah knew she couldn’t have gotten far, but was she climbing really, really fast? Could she get down to the deck before Prickett ran into her?
Prickett handled the ropes as if he’d been racing up and down rigging his whole life. Which he probably had. He even paused every few handholds to glance down—and still seemed to be setting some unbeatable record for speed.
Prickett turned to the side for an instant, perhaps to get one last glimpse of the land. In that moment Jonah saw something glow right below him—Katherine. Her hands were only one rung below Prickett’s feet. Katherine glanced up, then glanced down quickly. Jonah could almost see her calculating: I’m too high up to jump. I’d break a leg if I tried that.
As Prickett stepped down to the next rung, Katherine swung out of the way, holding on only to the sides of the rigging. Her feet dangled in midair.
Doesn’t Prickett feel the ropes pulling over to the right? Jonah wondered.
He must have, because he stopped momentarily, his head turned directly toward Katherine. He even reached over to the side rope, Katherine just barely sliding her hands out of the way in time.
Ouch! Jonah thought. That’s got to cause some serious rope burn!
Prickett seemed to be waiting for something.
Katherine twisted her face into a grimace. Jonah began to wonder how much upper-body strength she had.
Has she done weight training in gym class yet? He thought. Not that that would really help, but …
Jonah realized Katherine wasn’t grimacing in pain. She was glaring at Prickett. And then—in a quick flash—she stuck her tongue out at him.
Prickett went back to climbing, out of Katherine’s way. Katherine put her feet back on the ropes and waited for him to go on.
They still hadn’t heard from JB, they still hadn’t seen any tracers, and the “passage” they had seen seemed like even more proof that time was messed up beyond repair. Compared with all of that, it was no big deal that they’d managed to survive their encounter with Prickett.
Still, Jonah felt like cheering.
Prickett reached the deck. He strolled over to confer with Henry Hudson. And then Hudson leaned his head back and screamed up toward the crow’s nest:
“John Hudson! Report to the deck! Immediately!”
Jonah lost the urge to cheer.
Jonah’s legs almost buckled under him when he landed on the deck. It was partly exhaustion—climbing down the rigging hurt. But exhaustion alone didn’t account for the way every muscle in his body threatened to give way.
Didn’t ships’ captains used to beat people with whips? he wondered, his knees trembling. Beat them until they were almost dead, over nothing?
Or was that just pirate captains?
He hoped it was just pirates.
Henry Hudson was glaring down at Jonah with his eyes narrowed, his mouth set into a thin, disapproving line.
He certainly looked like he wanted to beat someone.
“I can explain,” Jonah said, which usually worked with his own parents back home.
At least it worked if Jonah didn’t accidentally say something that got him into worse trouble.
Henry Hudson’s eyes only grew angrier; his mouth flattened completely.
“Speak not,” he said in a cold, hard voice. “I have heard all I wish.”
He turned slightly toward Prickett, who was standing right beside him. Prickett gave a curt nod.
That’s not fair! Jonah wanted to protest. Whatever happened to accused criminals having the right to tell their side? Having the right to be considered innocent until proven guilty?
Jonah realized nothing had happened to those rights. They just didn’t exist yet in 1611.
It’s not like I’m an accused criminal, anyhow, Jonah thought.
Hudson’s glare made him feel like one.
Jonah tried to look at him adoringly, like a loving son. There was a trick to this, which Jonah sometimes used with his own parents. You blinked once or twice with a vacant, slightly goofy look on your face, and your parents forgot about whatever stupid thing you’d just done and started thinking instead about how cute you’d looked as a toddler, about how much they were going to miss you when you went off to college.
Evidently this trick didn’t work with the John Hudson mask.
Or maybe Henry Hudson had never liked his son, not even when he was a cute little toddler. Maybe Henry Hudson wouldn’t miss his son when he went off to … well, wherever you went after growing up as a ship’s boy.
“I—,” Jonah began.
Behind Hudson and Prickett, Jonah caught a glimpse of movement: It was Katherine, frantically shaking her head no.
Even Jonah could figure out what she meant: Stop talking. Now. Or else.
Hudson slapped his hand against the mast.
“I said, speak not!” he roared. “You have just earned yourself the harshest of punishments!”
He is going to beat me, Jonah thought, swaying slightly.
“When the others receive their noontime rations,” Hudson said, pronouncing the judgment in a voice colder than the wind, “you shall receive nothing.”
Huh? Jonah thought, trying to make sense of “noontime rati
ons.” So that’s … no food? I don’t have to pretend to eat green, rotty meat? All right! Sounds like a reward, not a punishment! I’ll just have Katherine sneak something better to me later….
He remembered that he needed to look like this punishment devastated him.
“I’m sorry!” he cried. “Please—”
Hudson struck him across the face.
“You do not mock your father’s authority!” he screamed. “I am the captain!”
“Aye, aye,” Jonah said, resisting the urge to put his hand against his stinging cheek. He cleared his throat. “Aye, aye, sir.”
For a moment he worried that this wasn’t the right thing to say to a ship’s captain in 1611. Maybe “aye, aye, sir” came later. Maybe it would be seen as just more mockery.
But the look in Hudson’s eye softened a bit.
“That’s better,” he said.
Jonah let out the breath he’d been holding without even realizing it.
Dear old “Dad” has just been thrown off his own ship and then let back on just because of some weird mess with time and history, Jonah reminded himself. He’s bound to be a little bit touchy about the whole authority thing.
“Swab the deck!” Hudson commanded. “Now!”
“Yes, sir!” Jonah snapped back, trying once again for the very, very obedient military-recruit tone.
Someone placed a bucket and mop in his hands.
Jonah looked up and realized it was Staffe, the man who’d taken his side back in the shallop.
Staffe leaned close to Jonah’s ear. From where Hudson and Prickett were standing, it probably looked as though Staffe were just making sure that Jonah had a firm grip on the bucket handle.
But Staffe was whispering.
“Don’t stand up for us,” he said in a barely audible tone. “Don’t try to help. It won’t do any good. Not now.”
And then Staffe turned and walked away, back to repairing a row of pegs on the rail.
Jonah almost dropped the bucket.
What was that all about? he wondered.
“Prickett’s out to get you,” Katherine said.