water. The jagged ends of dock spikes bristled from the cross timbers, impaling the gloom. Paul grimaced as the pungent smell of oil and rot wafted over him. There was about five feet of clearance, he guessed, between the water and the underside of the planking above. He looked dubiously at Monica and took a deep breath—so this was the way inside.
Decks had guided them into the heart of Watertown through a maze of canals, some so narrow that the dinghy had caught against the sides.The mist had started to brighten as they’d glided into the moat, using the oars to skirt around the wood and metal ramparts of Rat Castle. When Decks brought the boat to a halt, he brushed his hands over a section of wall, scraping away debris with his fingernails until he’d exposed a keyhole.
“Stay with the boat,” he told Armitage now, as he pushed a ring of keys back into a pocket. “Take it into one of the canals for shelter if need be, but for heaven’s sake, keep an eye out for us. Now, steady the boat for me.”
The wiry man crouched in the dinghy, then stepped quickly into the opening. Paul followed, easing himself onto a narrow crossbeam, hunched over. The wood was slippery, carpeted with lake fungus, and his hands reached out for balance.
“Hey,” he heard Armitage whisper behind him. “Hope you find your brother.”
Paul looked awkwardly back over his shoulder.
“Thanks.”
Armitage’s gaze shifted uncertainly to his sister. It seemed to Paul that he was about to say something, but in the end, he only mumbled, “Be careful, okay?”
Paul shuffled along the beam to make room for Monica.
She stepped lightly from the boat, hardlyrocking it at all. He extended his hand to her and was grateful that she took it, even though she didn’t need his help. She smiled at him, but it was forced, her eyes dark and secretive.
Up ahead, Decks was gesturing to them to hurry up. Cautiously Paul moved forward. The timbers groaned ominously, only inches above the water.
“There used to be houses lining this pier,” said Decks in a muted voice, jabbing a finger upward. “Not like the shacks you see most places in Watertown now. Some of these houses were quite grand. My family certainly had its day. But even when I was young, this place was well on its way to ruin. The last time I saw David, he’d left the family home altogether and moved back onto the ship.”
“Ship?”
“The last of the convict hulks.”
“But I thought they’d all sunk!” said Monica. “Years ago!”
Decks shook his head. “David had this one hauled out onto one of the docks. That must have been almost thirty years ago. He wanted it preserved, like a museum piece, so we wouldn’t forget our heritage. When I was last here though, part of the dock had collapsed, and the ship’s stern was slumped in the water. Could be that it’sslipped back completely by now. We’ll see.”
Paul followed Decks through the decaying latticework of beams, trying to match the wiry man’s footsteps. But his feet slithered on the timbers, and twice he lost his balance and nearly plunged a flailing hand onto one of the spikes. His neck ached from hunching over and his hands throbbed hotly beneath the bandages he’d put on at Decks’s houseboat. He couldn’t give in to fatigue now; he couldn’t fail Sam. He needed to be strong.
His thoughts raced ahead. He tried to plan out a confession, linking words and sentences like paper chains. But was an apology enough? And if he couldn’t even be sure that Sam would forgive him, how could he convince him to stop drinking the dead water? Stop, he told himself. Just get there.
There was less space between the beams now, and at times he had to slip through sideways; but after a few more minutes, the timbers became even more tightly meshed into a narrow opening about two feet in diameter, close to the water’s surface.
“It’s tight,” Decks said over his shoulder, “but I’ve done it before.”
The wood was wet and
Decks had guided them into the heart of Watertown through a maze of canals, some so narrow that the dinghy had caught against the sides.The mist had started to brighten as they’d glided into the moat, using the oars to skirt around the wood and metal ramparts of Rat Castle. When Decks brought the boat to a halt, he brushed his hands over a section of wall, scraping away debris with his fingernails until he’d exposed a keyhole.
“Stay with the boat,” he told Armitage now, as he pushed a ring of keys back into a pocket. “Take it into one of the canals for shelter if need be, but for heaven’s sake, keep an eye out for us. Now, steady the boat for me.”
The wiry man crouched in the dinghy, then stepped quickly into the opening. Paul followed, easing himself onto a narrow crossbeam, hunched over. The wood was slippery, carpeted with lake fungus, and his hands reached out for balance.
“Hey,” he heard Armitage whisper behind him. “Hope you find your brother.”
Paul looked awkwardly back over his shoulder.
“Thanks.”
Armitage’s gaze shifted uncertainly to his sister. It seemed to Paul that he was about to say something, but in the end, he only mumbled, “Be careful, okay?”
Paul shuffled along the beam to make room for Monica.
She stepped lightly from the boat, hardlyrocking it at all. He extended his hand to her and was grateful that she took it, even though she didn’t need his help. She smiled at him, but it was forced, her eyes dark and secretive.
Up ahead, Decks was gesturing to them to hurry up. Cautiously Paul moved forward. The timbers groaned ominously, only inches above the water.
“There used to be houses lining this pier,” said Decks in a muted voice, jabbing a finger upward. “Not like the shacks you see most places in Watertown now. Some of these houses were quite grand. My family certainly had its day. But even when I was young, this place was well on its way to ruin. The last time I saw David, he’d left the family home altogether and moved back onto the ship.”
“Ship?”
“The last of the convict hulks.”
“But I thought they’d all sunk!” said Monica. “Years ago!”
Decks shook his head. “David had this one hauled out onto one of the docks. That must have been almost thirty years ago. He wanted it preserved, like a museum piece, so we wouldn’t forget our heritage. When I was last here though, part of the dock had collapsed, and the ship’s stern was slumped in the water. Could be that it’sslipped back completely by now. We’ll see.”
Paul followed Decks through the decaying latticework of beams, trying to match the wiry man’s footsteps. But his feet slithered on the timbers, and twice he lost his balance and nearly plunged a flailing hand onto one of the spikes. His neck ached from hunching over and his hands throbbed hotly beneath the bandages he’d put on at Decks’s houseboat. He couldn’t give in to fatigue now; he couldn’t fail Sam. He needed to be strong.
His thoughts raced ahead. He tried to plan out a confession, linking words and sentences like paper chains. But was an apology enough? And if he couldn’t even be sure that Sam would forgive him, how could he convince him to stop drinking the dead water? Stop, he told himself. Just get there.
There was less space between the beams now, and at times he had to slip through sideways; but after a few more minutes, the timbers became even more tightly meshed into a narrow opening about two feet in diameter, close to the water’s surface.
“It’s tight,” Decks said over his shoulder, “but I’ve done it before.”
The wood was wet and
Similar Books
