The Blue Kingdom

The random mixture of Lim’s remedies was beginning to take effect. The fever had dropped and Em barely felt the pangs of pain as he breathed. Even so, when he rose, the cracking feeling over his side warned that ribs cannot be fixed with potions.

His head began to spin. It was not clear if he had spent hours or days in a feverish slumber, but as he shuffled to the ship’s deck, he realised that all the clamour of cannons and scratching of the hull had not been a figment of his weary mind.

The Ballerina was trapped over a reef of corals, bouncing with the little waves the shallows allowed. Cannons spooked him. A brief squinting was enough to confirm the two ships in line of attack over the horizon were too far away to be an actual threat, and once the cannonballs splashed harmlessly in the distance, he resumed calls Ivy didn’t return. He found her offboard, leaning hands on the hull and pushing with inhuman might to free the catamaran from a grip of rocks. “What the hells have I missed?”

Ivy boarded with an elegant and tremendous leap. With no signs of an answer, she strode to the inside, soaking the deck floor at every step of bulky socks of rope and rags she seemed to have made to protect her feet from the treacherous seabed. The Ballerina, singing a melody of cracks and scratches, turned broad to catch the wind with her sails, and soon Ivy took her to two points forward of the port beam, following a path of deeper waters only glimpsed by a dark shade of blue.

Em reached her side and repeated his question. Her eyebrows frowned and her jaw clenched. “Hey, hey, pumpkin. Easy on yourself. Aye?” Em said in the warmest way he could master. “I myself don’t even know how to navigate these waters. They haven’t caught us yet, and that is already a great feat.”

“They are sending rowboats. At this speed, they will reach us in less than a day.” Ivy signed with bruised hands. Large bags under her reddened eyes proved how little she had slept. Em pressed the top of his nose to ease a growing headache. “How long did I sleep?”

“Three days. I saw the King's End yesterday, but the wind changed and I missed it. I could have-"

“Let me guess.” he interrupted. “Reach close hauled, but Indri moved to the sted beam. You made a good choice, those vermin are not lame. They’d caught us before the straight."

Em’s legs gave way, and only a quick grab from Ivy kept him from falling. His head spun endlessly, as the puncturing pain on his side returned.

“You need more rest. I can handle her.”

“I know you can, pumpkin,” Em mumbled. “But she is not going any much further. There is no safe passage for our girl’s draught from here. Maybe a few more miles east, that’s it. We need to take the dinghy and row north into the Kingdom. We cannot sail the waters of the Oozing with just oars.”

Ivy shook her head. “That will take how long? At least it is a month without counting low tide walls! We don’t have enough provisions!”

“You will hunt. And we will pray to have some rain. Then-“

Ivy’s arms moved forcefully, her way of yelling. “I’m not leaving our home behind!”

“Listen, listen.” Em’s legs wobbled, shaking his entire body. He grabbed the steering wheel to maintain balance and rubbed his face to wipe away the sweat. “We drop the iron over there and decide what to do.”

In the distance, a turquoise circle stood out among all the other shades of blue. The ring-shaped atoll, surrounded by coral breaking the surface, was an ideal place to anchor. Its borders would prevent any high waves from disturbing the Ballerina’s rest, and when the tide lowered, the sand would cushion the hulls gently.

The knot in his stomach turned out to be more annoying than the pain over his side. Even in such a protected place, the catamaran would not resist for a long time at the mercy of the elements. “Guide me through the atoll wall and then get ready for some whaling.”

The only entrance to the atoll was a narrow gap that could hardly admit a boat of twelve. Even with the high tide, it was certain they were going to hit sides no matter what, and Em prayed so the punishment on her beloved ship would be of scratches instead of an irreparable dent. Ivy, as soon as she reached the bow, noticed the danger and waved frantically her arms. She turned to insist, but seeing her uncle’s determined gaze through the window, she rushed to brace herself for impact.

The Ballerina broke through the passage with the grinding noise of coral and rock smashing into pieces. The rumbling of the impact, fading with the loss of speed, dissipated as the ship drifted aside. Stubborn, the catamaran didn’t give up even with the stern trapped and, after a last desperate push of her sails, she cracked her way into the ring. Em regained course, and upon reaching the centre of the atoll, the listing of the Ballerina announced a reach on the starboard.

“She’s taking water!” Ivy said with outraged signs. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Possibly I am. And yet, you’ll do as I say,” he grumbled while bouncing over deck.

“Stop treating me like a little girl, damn it!”

Em kicked the lever, and the anchor hit bottom right after. The red sun, lowering at face level, hurt like needles behind the eyes. The gently pivoting of the ship turned into a speeding spin without control. His thoughts were no longer his own. “I treat you like a mate of my ship! Prepare to engage the rowboats! Cap’n’s orders, kid!”

Em staggered towards Lim’s cabin and bottomed out the last green potion. A mint-flavoured extract of loli-flower that would ease the pains but help very little with a relapsing fever. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and searched frantically for remaining medicine, unleashing his frustration over the empty pots. Then, with his spirit dragging bottom, he grabbed the holster and checked his gun, wishing he’d not have to test his crippled aiming.

Tired and weak, Em piled boxes and sacks on the deck. The rounded cover would protect him from fire power from all sides, but he had little hope of stopping the pirates. There was going to be a shooting, yes. But only to cover those who would dive secretly to board. And, as soon as they set foot on deck, they’d force him to leave the ship with bullets, or most probably with fire. Their only option was to stop them in the distance and Ivy was the only one who could do it.

With the loli medicine barely easing the pain, Em laboriously lifted the last sack of rice onto the boxes. His gasps, pronounced but contained, began to show signs of a lung filling with fluid.

Ivy’s feet, now free of rope and cloth, hammered loudly as she rushed through the wooden floor. “Hey-” he said as she reached his barricade. “Hey, listen,”

Eyeing two boats approaching the atoll, Ivy rested her sword on Em’s wall and checked the rusty point of a boat spade. Without a sign or a glance, she squeezed the spade’s handle and rushed overboard. After a fleeting splash, her shadow darted away, disappearing as Em whispered to himself. “You’re walking backwards, old man.”

After a cough that felt like a sword running through his chest, Em spat out a reddened mucus. “That’s not good.” The sun, reaching its evening rest, no longer bothered his eyes, but now was the time to receive punishment from all his joints at once. Leaning on the sacks, he awaited the pirate boats while trying to ignore his misery, focusing on the beads of sweat soaking the fabric.

It was twilight when the first of the pirate’s boats reached the shallows of the coral ring. The tide was going high giving an easy way to cross, yet they stopped. To Em’s view, two rifles, a pistol, and many blades, but there was more. Of that, he was certain. The six men stared in silence as the next boat stopped at their beam. At that distance bullets could reach, but neither side was going to waste ammunition with low-precision shots. The Ballerina, waiting defenceless for the attack, hit the sandy bottom on her starboard, leaving the sea line at deck level.

Like two predators stalking a dying prey, the pirates slowly crossed the pass. Each stroke of the oars, the footsteps of a stealthy beast. Bodies huddled, muzzles pointed. As the first boat halted, the second turned left, following slowly but diligently the shallows towards the other side of the ring. They’d reach when the night was due, then assault from both sides with the protection of a moonless night.

Kneeling with his head on the sacks, Em sighed. The hopes put on Ivy were strong. His restlessness, only because of fatigue and fever. The sea dogs, who surely were licking their teeth to savour the prize ahead, little did they realise hunters were soon to be prey. Little they knew the darkness of night, in Ivy’s eyes, was more advantageous for her than for them. Unknowing the sea below their wooden nuts was her element, they didn’t foresee the attack even after Ivy made a fist move.

When one oar disappeared, the men barely reacted, perhaps believing that the wood had been stuck and felt. After the second rowing pole banished, fidgeting began. Shouts broke when a man yelled in panic as Ivy’s arm dragged him under the sea. Blind shots followed, splashing their surroundings. Silence of disbelief rose with the end of fire. A moment they hoped all was a nightmare, but was instead the time she needed to return under the hull. Her spade stabbed and twisted, the wood cracked and the boat sank as fast as a blink. The pirates yelled and splashed the water as they dipped into the sea before the incredulous gazes from the other boat. “That’s my girl.” Em rested his chin on the sacks and pulled his lips to a trembling line. “Don’t sink the other one. Give them the option to escape.”

Petrified, the dry pirates did not seem to know what to do. Ivy, with sudden and short movements, would break the surface as if a monster from the depths had come to claim their souls. Her speed, moving her away from the spot much earlier than the shots hit the water. Her twisted voice, creating hair raising sounds of clicks and squeaks. The men of the sea, who by nature are superstitious, did not take long to exhaust their little patience and courage, and the boat soon turned around, raising imploring wails from men behind, who swam into the darkness like spurred dogs.

Em held his breath to push up. He did it again to master the strength to pull the canvas covering the dinghy. The small emergency boat, hanging over the narrow stern deck for years, was a light two men’s vessel Em used to lift with a sole hand. Now, before the feverish weakness of a sick person, the shell came loose with force, hitting everything on its way to the sea-line.

Em collapsed to his knees. Still and silent, he gave thanks as the hull fell upright and the rope line was still in his hand. His last effort was to fill the little space on that nut with enough supplies to survive the long journey, but without overweighting the poor thing. He tried, but his body didn’t respond.

The night was quiet, not even the waves or winds could be heard. Surrounded by complete darkness, Em enjoyed the salty scent of the sea. That smell that he loved so much. When Ivy’s hands went around the neck, little he knew how long had passed while sitting on that wet, cold floor. Her body squeezed from behind and her arms tightened gently. Her head, resting on his shoulder, filled his cheek with a damp, cool hair he used to ease the heat over his forehead. “Is it too late to apologise?” He asked. Ivy patted the plates on his chest with an answer he didn’t manage to understand.

When the slumber faded and senses returned, Em was lying on the dinghy bow, on top of a pile of blankets and feather pillows. Between him and Ivy, who was rowing placidly from the stern, were bags and cans full of what he assumed were supplies. “The nautical charts?” he mumbled.

Ivy nodded and dropped the oars. “I was out of place. It’s just…just difficult to leave her behind,” Ivy gazed furtively towards the crippled ship they once called home and lowered her body to the knees.

“I know,” Em whispered. “It breaks my heart, too.” His eyes wandered for a while through the stars ahead. “You're sailing east.”

Ivy loomed as Em’s coughing became an obvious rattle. The old man wiped his lips, fingers soaking black. “You won’t make it through the north. I cannot let you die, old man.” She signed.

She was right. The trip to the Kingdom was too long, and he was deeply in need of a doctor. The only place in that remote corner of the world to find a decent quack was the Oozing, a dangerous trap they were heading with a slow, cumbersome tinny boat.

“I have considered the danger and accepted the consequences. If I was the one spitting blood, you’d take care of me no matter what. So, let me do the same for you.”

Em growled and turned in pain as the silhouette of his ship blurred into the night. ‘Let her grow,’ Lim’s words disguised in Claudia’s voice drifted though his mind like a morning breeze. ‘Let her learn.’

“All right, all right.” He snuggled into the bow’s gap as his entire body succumbed to exhaustion. “Let’s patch me up and lift the draggin’ hook.”

Ivy let out a silent snicker and returned to the rowing. Her eyes’ determination was clear and powerful. No one would stop her from doing what she believed was right. It was an unavoidable decision he’d taken too: A mistake he was in no position to make anymore.