Emily Windsnap and the Ship of Lost Souls by Liz Kessler

  Lyle swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down a couple of times before he spoke again. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. He reached awkwardly for my hand and squeezed it.

  I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to speak anyway, so it didn’t really matter. A moment later, Lyle checked his watch and stood up. “It’s almost breakfast time,” he said. “You’d better get going.”

  “Shall we meet you later?” Aaron asked.

  “Yes.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket and unfolded it. “You’ve got Races and Relays with Shiprock this morning and Knowledge and Nets at the harbour this afternoon. How about you hang around at Harbour Bay after that? I’ll tell your teacher I’ve got a special assignment for you that only semi-mers can do.”

  “Which isn’t really very far from the truth,” I pointed out.

  “Look, are you sure about this? I don’t want —”

  “Please,” I said, stopping him. “You couldn’t keep me from doing this, even if you tried,” I said. “We’ll be fine. All of us. I’m going to bring Lowenna home.”

  “We’ll see you later,” Aaron said.

  Lyle waved as we got up. “Thank you again,” he whispered.

  I smiled. “No problem.”

  And with that, we turned away and headed back across the road to join the others for breakfast.

  Aaron’s fingers found mine, and I held his hand tightly.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Fine. Honestly, I’m cool,” I said.

  I wasn’t going to let him see it or he’d try to stop me, but the thought of what lay ahead was turning my insides to jelly. I mean, of course, I could hardly wait to get going. Magical adventures were pretty much my favorite things. But if I thought about it too much — which I was trying not to do — it was kind of ridiculously scary, and dangerous, as well.

  “Wonder what’s for breakfast,” Aaron said. “My tummy’s rumbling!”

  “Yeah, mine too,” I said. And it was true. My stomach was turning around in so many circles it felt like a tangled, knotted fishing net.

  But it had nothing to do with being hungry.

  “Hey, what do you think of this?” Mandy lifted the net she’d been working on and put it over her head. “It’s my new shower cap. How does it look?”

  I laughed. “I don’t think you’ll be starting a new fashion trend.” I held mine out in front of me. “What about mine? I’m thinking I could use it as a bag.”

  Mandy studied my netting. “As long as you don’t mind losing everything you put in it,” she said, placing her arm through one of the holes.

  “OK, so maybe we’re not the best net makers in the world,” I admitted.

  Aaron and I had told Mandy and Shona everything earlier, and it was good to laugh and do something different. Take my mind off things for a bit.

  “OK, eighth-graders,” Miss Platt called as she looked around at our dismal efforts, “I think we’ve all learned about as much as we are ever going to learn about making fishing nets.” She turned to Lyle, who was helping Tom and Maggie finish up their net. “Lyle, I think it’s safe to say there won’t be too much competition in the net-making industry for the time being.”

  Lyle stood up and smiled as he looked around at us. “You’ve all done a great job,” he said.

  “Now, then, how about some volunteers to help put things away?” Miss Platt asked.

  A couple of girls put their hands up. Miss Platt nodded at them. “Evie and Amanda, thank you. Could you fetch the boxes from the top of the beach and help put all the nets back in, please? Grab a friend each to help take the boxes back up to the house.”

  Lyle looked around the group. “I could do with some more volunteers to help me attach some ropes back onto the jetties.” He looked over at me and made a This-is-where-you-volunteer kind of face at me. “Maybe a couple of good swimmers . . .”

  “I’ll do it!” I burst out before anyone else could.

  Aaron quickly stuck his hand in the air. “I’ll help.”

  “Great.” Lyle beckoned us over. “The rest of you can head back with Miss Platt. Hope you’ve had a good afternoon.”

  “They’ve had a lovely afternoon,” Miss Platt replied. “What do we say, children?”

  As the class shouted thank-yous to Lyle, Aaron and I made our way to the end of the jetty. We waited for the others to leave with the nets and boxes. Once they were gone, Lyle came over.

  “All right,” he said. “Let me tell you the plan.”

  Aaron and I huddled in close as Lyle spoke. “I’ve done some more research,” he said. “I’ve come up with three reasons a ship might not be able to escape Atlantis — even if any of its crew or passengers know the route, as Lowenna does. The chances of it happening at all are so remote as to be almost nonexistent. But the fact that Lowenna is a skilled navigator and that we’ve seen the ship, makes me think that there is a tiny possibility that they are trying.”

  “Go on,” Aaron said. “What are the three reasons?”

  “One, they’re already dead and it’s too late.”

  His words made my insides jump like a flying fish. Before I could say anything, he went on. “But it can’t be that, or we wouldn’t have seen the ship at all.”

  “OK, what are the others?” I asked.

  “Two is that they’re still alive, but there’s something wrong with the ship that’s preventing it from coming back.”

  “The torn sails!” I said. “Could that be it?”

  Lyle shook his head. “It’s not quite enough. That might be part of it, but it would have to be something to do with the engineering of the ship — something that makes it impossible to drive at all, let alone navigate the treacherous path back from Atlantis. If it is this one, they’ve got one more day to fix it.”

  “So, what’s the third?” Aaron asked.

  “Trying to take something of Atlantis with you.”

  “What kind of thing?” I asked.

  Lyle shrugged. “I don’t know. Could be a memento of some sort. It might even be something that’s been picked up in Atlantis and brought onto the boat by accident. Remember, once you are there, you are surrounded by so much magic and beauty, you can’t imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else. There would be many things you’d want to keep. Whatever it is, if it comes from Atlantis, the ship won’t be able to leave while it’s on board.”

  “OK. So it’s most likely to be either option two or three that we’re talking about,” Aaron said.

  “I would think so. I hope so, anyway, with all my heart.” Lyle turned to me. “But even if it is one of these, your job is extremely hard. If there is something wrong with the ship, you are unlikely to be much help — not unless you have a degree in mechanical engineering that we don’t know about!”

  I laughed. “No. But at least I’d be able to let them know their time is running out and that they have to hurry. And if it’s the third, I can get them to search the ship and return anything that came from Atlantis. Either way, one thing we know for sure is that they stand a better chance of getting away with me than if I don’t even try.”

  “It’s a small window,” Lyle said. “You’ll have just over twelve hours. You should be able to come back on the ship with them. There won’t be any problem with that. But if not, there is always the portal, when it opens again at dusk. Dusk is also the ship’s last chance to escape. Emily are you sure you —?”

  “I’m doing it,” I said firmly. “What time do I go?”

  Lyle’s face was a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “I’ll meet you early tomorrow. If we get together at six in the morning at Deep Blue Bay, that’ll leave enough time to give you any final instructions before the slack tide.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady so that neither of them would hear my nerves jangling around like broken shells on a rolling wave.

  “I found out some more about the portal, too,” Lyle went on. “About its locatio
n.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “There is disagreement on exactly how to find it, but it seems that there are two possibilities. The first is that it’s in the spot where the ship disappeared into the ground. We have to hope that those who support this theory are wrong.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because that would be virtually impossible to find. The portal will open for only a matter of minutes. Nowhere near long enough for you to burrow into the sand — even if you could find the exact spot that opened up to suck the ship through.”

  “So what’s the other theory?” Aaron asked.

  “That the ship has a weak point.”

  “A weak point?” I repeated. “You mean, like, in its construction or something?”

  Lyle shook his head. “A different kind of weak point. Those who argue this theory say that there will be one point on the ship where the connection is strongest. The place where your vision was clearest.”

  As Lyle spoke, I had no doubt where this point would be. The spot I’d seen in my mind ever since I’d been there. The spot where I’d almost felt as if I could reach through and be inside the ship myself: the porthole where I’d seen Lowenna.

  Lyle had no need to explain further. “Those people are right,” I said.

  He nodded. He knew what I was talking about — where I was talking about. “Yes,” he said. “I understand.”

  “Where?” Aaron asked.

  “The porthole.”

  “Yes, I know you mean the portal. But where are you saying it is?”

  “I didn’t say portal,” I insisted. “I said porthole. The porthole is the portal.”

  “Oh.” Aaron frowned. “That’s weird.”

  “Yeah.”

  Before Aaron and I got too carried away with the difference between portholes and portals, Lyle went on. “There are two more things.” He dug around in his pocket and pulled out some folded sheets of paper. “I managed to get the passenger list,” he said as he opened out the sheets and flattened them on his knee.

  “Wow, how did you do that?” Aaron asked.

  “I have all sorts of contacts in my line of work,” Lyle replied lightly. Then he passed me the papers. They were a random mix of photos and text. “There were six members of crew and twelve passengers,” he went on. “I’ve got photos of them all for you. Try to memorize their faces before you go. It’ll help you to find them more quickly once you get there.”

  If I get there.

  “There are way more photos than that,” Aaron said.

  “I know. The rest are of their families.”

  “Why do I need photos of their families?” I asked.

  “You don’t. They do. The photos will help them to remember.”

  “Remember their families?” Aaron asked. “Surely they won’t have forgotten them in five days?”

  “It’s not five days for them. It’s already been six months,” Lyle reminded him. “And by the time Emily gets to them, it will be even more than that. And it’s not just about the length of time. It’s about the magic that Atlantis exerts. It makes you forget. It forces thoughts of your old life out of your mind. Makes you believe that Atlantis is all you want, all you’ve ever known.”

  “So the photos are to remind them of their old lives,” I said.

  “Their real lives,” Lyle corrected me. “You can tell them all you like, but they won’t believe you until they feel it for themselves. It has to be something that they can hold or see. The photos are essential.” He reached into his pocket again. This time he brought out a mini snow globe.

  He passed the globe to me. The flakes twinkled and fell as he held it out. As they landed, I could see why he’d given it to me. Inside it was a photo. The same as the one in Lyle’s house. Lowenna and him together, smiling on their wedding day.

  I took the snow globe from him. He didn’t need to explain what that was for.

  “Lowenna will remember you,” Aaron said.

  I thought about her eyes, her desperation. “She does remember you,” I added.

  Before Lyle could reply, we heard shouting behind us and all turned to look. Some of the kids from Brightport were coming back down to the harbour. “We’d better be getting back,” Aaron said.

  Lyle stopped us. “Emily, one final thing. You must remember that you are not immune to the powers and magic of Atlantis. Although you’ll be there for only twelve hours, even that will be long enough for you to start forgetting why you are there, or even where you have come from. You will start to forget almost as soon as you arrive. You have to stay strong.”

  At that, Aaron pulled up his sleeve and started fiddling with a chain on his wrist. I’d seen it before. He’d told me his dad had given it to him before he died. Aaron took it off.

  “Hold out your arm,” he said to me. As I did, he closed the chain around my wrist and shut the clasp firmly. “This will remind you of me, and of home,” he said.

  Stop being so nice. Stop. Don’t. You’ll make me —

  “OK. You’d better go.” Lyle broke into my thoughts. “Go and join the others. Looks like it’s free time.”

  I glanced behind me to see my classmates running down to the water’s edge in shorts and T-shirts. For a brief second, I envied their innocence, their ignorance of all this.

  “What will we tell Miss Platt tomorrow?” Aaron asked.

  “Just say I’m spending the day with Shiprock,” I suggested.

  “I don’t want to lie to your teachers,” Lyle said.

  “Then don’t,” Aaron suggested. “I will. Mandy and I will work it out.”

  Lyle held his hands up in a mini surrender. “OK. Look, I’ll leave that side of it to you. I just —”

  “It’s covered,” I said firmly before he tried to talk me out of it again. We started heading back up the beach. “See you tomorrow,” I said to Lyle as we parted company at the top.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Lyle replied. And with that, he turned away. A moment later, he was gone.

  We watched him walk away. “Come on,” Aaron said. “Let’s join the rest of the class and pretend for a bit that none of this is happening. What do you say?”

  As I looked over, I could see Mandy had come down with the others. She waved over at us. Maybe we could go and get Shona, too. The four of us could hang out and play in the water for a while, before the sun set. An evening of fun and hanging out with my friends. Of forgetting about ships and lost people and Atlantis and — all of it.

  “I think that sounds like a plan,” I said, taking off my shoes and starting to run. “Race you!”

  It’s amazing how quickly six o’clock in the morning can come. Once we’d filled Mandy and Shona in on everything, Aaron and I spent all evening with them, playing in the water, chasing and racing and diving and laughing together. The others laughed and smiled a lot. I did the same, but on the inside, I was busy wondering if this was the last evening I would ever have like this. Not just with them — with everyone. I thought about Mom and Dad. As far as they were concerned, I was on a nice little geography field trip. What if I never came home? What if I never saw them again? What if —?

  No! I couldn’t think like that. If I did, I would never go. And I had to. I owed it to all the people stuck in Atlantis on Prosperous II. I’d spent all night reading about them and trying to memorize their faces. And now, after a few restless hours’ sleep, it was Wednesday morning and we were heading down to the ocean in the semidarkness.

  “Hey. Stop it,” Aaron scolded me.

  “What?”

  “Thinking. I can hear you, you know.”

  “You can . . . ?”

  Aaron slung an arm over my shoulder. “Relax, I don’t mean literally. I just mean I can imagine what you’re thinking. You’re going to be great. Everything will be fine.”

  “Hey, guys!” Mandy was running down the road toward us. I pulled away from Aaron.

  “What are you doing? It’s really early!” I said as Mandy caught up to us.<
br />
  “I’ve come to wish you good luck.” She shifted from foot to foot. “Take care of yourself,” she said. “I’ll be so mad at you if you don’t come back!”

  I pulled her toward me for a hug. “Thanks, Mandy. Hey, I’ll be back before you know it.”

  She hugged me back for a second, then drew away. “You’d better be, fish girl. The rest of this week will be awful if I haven’t got my best friend with me.” Mandy stopped. “I mean, I didn’t mean . . .” she stammered. “I know you’ve got other best friends. I just meant —”

  I stopped her. “I know,” I said. “You’re one of my best friends, too.”

  Mandy made a weird scowl, which I guessed was an attempt to hide a smile. “Cool. OK,” she said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I’ll let you go. See you tonight, huh?”

  “You bet,” I told her.

  Aaron and I walked down to Deep Blue Bay in silence. There weren’t many words that could fill the big question mark we were walking into.

  Lyle was already there. So was Shona, her tail flipping nervously from side to side so much that she was almost dancing on the surface of the water.

  “I wasn’t going to let you go do something this dangerous without coming to see you off,” she said.

  We dropped into the water to join her. As my legs fizzled and tingled and my tail formed, I glanced at Lyle. His body had done the same thing. It was weird seeing him as a merman. It reminded me how little we knew about him, about this place, about any of this. A fleeting dart of fear stabbed through my body. What was I doing?

  “Last chance to change your mind,” Lyle said as if I’d uttered my thoughts out loud.

  I pictured Lowenna. Pictured the ship. And even though it made me feel a little guilty to think it, I realized I was excited about my adventure. Terrified, yes, that, too, of course, but I couldn’t help it that part of me was buzzing with adrenaline at the thought of visiting such a magical and mysterious place as Atlantis.