Captain Nemo: The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius by Kevin J. Anderson

found a bedraggled Selkirk, who had built a huge fire to attract them.   The poor man had not seen another living soul for four long years.”  
    Seeing Nemo’s fascination, Captain Grant said, “I have Dampier’s book in my cabin, lad.   You can read it tonight by lamplight, if you wish.”   The captain then pointed a scolding finger.   “But first, young man, ‘tis your turn at watch.   Go climb the ratlines and spend your hours up in the crow’s nest.”
     
    v
     

    Sitting alone atop the mast for hour after hour, Nemo imagined himself in another world.   Far below, the Coralie held the smells and stains from the long voyage, despite vigorous daily scrubbings.   He’d grown accustomed to the crowded and unpleasant conditions, but he preferred to be up high, where the breezes danced around the topmost spire.   Here, his thoughts could roam.
    The rigging hummed, and the sails laughed with each gust.   In the South China Sea, islands, reefs, and peninsulas dotted the charts in Captain Grant’s stateroom.   At the moment, all Nemo could see was the hazy, curved plane of metal-blue water, a calm sea with just enough wind to keep the sails filled and the ship moving on course.
    Sunlight glinted across the stippled waves, fragmenting and reflecting back at him, though he no longer felt the baking heat upon his bronzed skin.   Nemo stared, looking for any interruption in the quiet sea that would indicate an island, an approaching storm, or another ship.   The world was so vast, so full of possibilities.   No birds were visible, which meant the ship must be far from land.   He took a moment to retie the faded red hair ribbon Caroline had given him, which sparked a wash of memories of Nantes.   With the chance Caroline had offered, the opportunity arranged through Monsieur Aronnax, Nemo had indeed made something of himself.  
    In the crow’s nest he had carried the thick leather-bound journal Jules had given him.   Now he wrote with a lead pencil, scratching out thoughts and recollections, adding details of the previous few days.   Verne, who had been forbidden to take this journey himself, would want to know everything.
    Nemo glanced up again and scanned the sea, startled to see a black speck on the horizon riding the wind toward the Coralie.   He took out his spyglass and placed the warm brass eyepiece against his face.   Through the lens he could make out a sailing ship, though he could determine no specifics.   “Ship ahoy!   East by northeast.”
    The other sailors on the Coralie looked up at him, then out to sea.   From his place at the wheel, the helmsman signaled that he had heard.   Nemo glanced again at the distant craft, then returned to his writing.  
    Over the next hour or so, the other ship came closer while the Coralie tacked at an angle to the wind.   The stranger -- a large, sturdy sloop -- chose a course bound to intercept them, moving with the breezes.   As the distance between the two vessels closed, Nemo periodically checked with the spyglass.
    Captain Grant’s sailors continued to adjust the rigging, pulling the Coralie’ s sails to snatch every breath of wind.   Some gathered at the rail to look at the oncoming ship.   It had been some time since the crew had encountered another vessel, but this was a high traffic sailing lane; finding another sail out in the South China Sea was not unusual.
    Nemo could have finished his shift, scuttled down the shroud ropes, and asked to look at the Crusoe-inspiring books Captain Grant had promised him.   But with another ship coming closer, he wanted to stay up in the crows’ nest where he could be the first to see.  
    Using the spyglass, he finally made out the flag atop the foremast of the sloop.   “She’s British.   Flying the Union Jack.”
    The other sailors milled about on deck, some shading their eyes and trying to see.   The sloop picked up speed, coming closer.   Nemo finished writing another page in the journal