my captain. In the old days people used to hunt them to fill their pots, or for trade. Often they slaughtered them for sport. When their numbers grew fewer, people paid thousands of credits to simply gaze at these creatures. Then they were not for eating.” Reader links his arm through Gollum’s. “I think tonight we can skip our reading-and-writing lesson. Instead, I will tell you a story about a great fish called Moby Dick. We can roast some corn and make a party to celebrate our new discovery.” He pauses. “Juliet, of course, tonight you must join us. You will like the story about Captain Ahab and his whale, I assure you.”
Gollum’s smile is stretched as wide as a Market Nag’s bum at the thought of one of Reader’s stories. He picks the bowl off the deck. “Yes, we will fill our bowls and celebrate. I’ll cook a special feast for the two of us. I’m tired of Drudge’s burnt food.”
I am shut out. The odd one out in this happy friendship.
“Enough with your stories, old man. I’m sick of your fairy tales about stars that will take us home. Tell your fine captain the truth. Tell him we’ll be bobbing about on this monstrous sea until our hair turns grey. Or we’re eaten by killer fish. Tell him we’re lost!”
Reader looks shamefaced at Gollum and clears his throat. “It is true. I am sorry, my captain. I have let you down.”
My anger boils over as I grab the bowl from Gollum’s hand and hurl it into the sea. “And why don’t you tell Reader how you worked for the Locusts and traded information about the rebels during the war? Don’t try and deny it, I know your kind. Tell him how you intend to sell me to the Locusts for credits when we get home.” I push Gollum. “Tell him, you two-faced Reject.”
Reader steadies himself on Gollum’s shoulder. “My captain, is this true? Surely you would do no such thing to our Juliet?”
Gollum’s face goes dark. “Talking of secrets, maybe Drudge should tell us hers.” He grips my arms and hisses. “Tell us why you can’t eat and why you sleep all day when you’re supposed to be steering. And why you sick up in the sea every morning. Go on, Drudge, let us in on your dirty secret.”
Dirty? I am carrying Nicolas’s child. I do not feel dirty.
“See, Master Reader, she won’t tell you that she’s gone down the river. Soon we’ll have another mouth to feed. For as long as the food lasts.” Gollum glowers at me. “There’s only three sacks of corn left in the galley. The last thing we need is some drudge brat to feed.”
“Juliet?” Reader’s mouth trembles in a gummy smile. “My Juliet, you are burdened?”
In Slum City, my growing belly would be a burden. I would be sent to Savage City for daring to breed without permission. But Nicolas and I planned to leave that nightmare. To play a new game. Our rules.
I stalk away, passing a mirror attached to the side of the cabin. Gollum likes to peer at himself when he wakes in the afternoons. He flicks bits out of his teeth with a piece of string, prods his gums, cleans his nostrils with his grimy fingers. He salutes the mirror. “And a very good evening to you, Captain Gollum. You handsome bastard,” he always says.
I pause in front of the piece of glass and stare at myself. My face is fuller, the angles softened. My skin glows and is tanned dark – I ran out of sunblocker weeks ago. My hair is even more Savage. My cow-eyes are dark chocolate. I touch my chest and run my hands down the sides of my body. I am no longer skinny. I am as plump as a pleasure worker. My ankles are pulpy slabs of bruised banana.
Sitting on the bow of the sloop, I place my hand on my stomach. It flutters. I smooth my fingers across my belly.
Wisha-wisha-wisha.
My child will be a boy. A part of Nicolas. We will find our way home and my son will know his father.
The half-moon and the stars play catch-me on the water. I see it, then, the silver spear, darting in the light-flecked waves. The smooth grey bulk noses its way towards the Jolly Roger. The prince of sharks. Proof of life beyond Mangeria.
The fish swims towards the seacraft and turns. It does this several times, keeping faith with an invisible straight line. The bowl I tossed into the sea is still bobbing in the water. The great beast takes it in its terrible mouth and flips it onto the deck.
I grab the plastic cushion Reader sits on when he teaches Gollum his lessons at night and chuck it into the sea. The monster leaps for it and the cushion lands back on the deck.
A game! The creature thinks I’m playing with it.
“Look, look, the monster is back!” I yell.
Gollum runs towards me. I grab the captain’s cap from his head and fling it into the ocean.
“What in The Machine’s name do you think you’re doing?”
My lips curl. Only the rubbish from Slum City worship at the shrine of The Machine. Ignorant trash, grovelling before a cruel god who decides whose lives have worth.
The Great White dives for the cap and crunches it in its jaws. I laugh at the fury on Gollum’s face. “It doesn’t like you. It knew it was yours. But see now.” I toss the bowl back into the sea.
The beast’s fin whacks it at Gollum, who ducks. I taste delicious glee.
Reader joins us. “Such turbulence. There is water all over the deck. Is a storm coming?”
“Drudge has made a new friend. She and the big fish are playing catch with our things.” Gollum places a hand on Reader’s arm. “Stand back, Master Reader. She’s going to throw us into the sea and let this killer play ball with us.”
The Great White slices a path through the dark water. Back and forward. It reaches the seacraft and nudges it, moves off again in the same direction.
“It means us to follow. It’s showing us the way,” I say.
“The way where? It’s going to lead us off the edge of the world and we’ll become supper for a bunch of monsters. Don’t listen to her nonsense, Master Reader.”
Reader shakes his head. “I have never read about these great beasts being playful or guiding lost sailors. Dolphins, yes. They were known to be fun-loving and helpful.” His eyes brighten. “But then again, the birds in the old world were not tellers, and flies back in the day were tiny insects, not as large as our fists. I expect things have changed over time.”
The old man sighs. “Hoist the mainsail, my captain. Let us follow the fish. We have little choice.”
Captain Gollum’s Log
One, two,
Buckle my shoe;
Three, four,
Knock at the door;
Five, six,
Pick up sticks;
Seven, eight,
Lay them straight;
Nine, ten,
A big fat hen;
Eleven,
