The ladies stood beneath their parasols; the gentlemen angled their hats against the sun’s full glare. In their black patent shoes and high-heeled boots, they were having trouble standing upright in the fine white sand. They tilted and swayed. In their dark clothing they looked strangely thin and insubstantial, wavering there on the beach like heat mirages. Strange birds shrieked from the forest, a coconut thudded to the ground, surf crashed against the reef. Captain Walken stood before his assembled passengers, eyes crinkled benevolently.

“Ladies and gentlemen, first let me apologize for this unscheduled stop in our journey to Australia.”

This brought a few grateful chuckles from the crowd, but most people, I noticed, still looked shaken and anxious, some even angry.

“Luckily, thanks to my able crew, we made an exceptionally smooth landing and are snugly berthed. Our ship is largely undamaged, with the critical exception, of course, that we have lost much of our lifting gas. We have the pirates to thank for that.”

“We’re shipwrecked, then!” said one passenger.

“Not at all, sir. Our vessel is in one piece. And she will fly again.”

“When?” a woman with a powerful voice asked. “We are not children, Captain. Tell us the truth.”

“Indeed I am, madam. Repairs are under way as I speak. Which is why I have asked for all of you to disembark. A temporary measure, I assure you. Right now, I need the Aurora as light as possible until we’ve sealed every leak.”

I looked over at the ship. She hovered only inches above the sand. Several crewmen were already busy digging her tail fin free. If the Aurora lost any more hydrium, she would be forced to start bearing her own weight—something no airship was designed to do. Without enough hydrium, she would collapse upon herself. Inside, the sailmakers would be in a frenzy, seeking out every tear in her gossamer gas cells. Outside, the hull crawled with more crew, patching all those holes we’d missed. I wished I was with them. Lunardi was up there. But here I was, shimmied halfway up a coconut palm, trying to string a tarpaulin to make some shade for our precious passengers.

“But will we be able to lift off again?” someone else demanded.

“With our current load I am most doubtful. We may need to remove cargo and furniture and other nonessential items. We won’t know how much hydrium we have until repairs are finished. At the moment, we have plenty of food and drinking water. The weather is fine, and we are all unharmed—with the tragic exception of our chief wireless officer, Mr. Featherstone.”

The captain paused for a moment, and I saw him sigh. I don’t think anyone who’d been in the A-Deck lounge would be able to clear the images from their mind’s eye. The way Szpirglas had lifted the gun, so casually and unflinchingly, and squeezed the trigger. An explosion of blood and bone and a life gone forever.

“We still have cause to be grateful,” said our captain. “An encounter with the likes of Mr. Szpirglas could have been much, much worse. I intend to be under way as soon as possible. I will keep you abreast of all developments. The cabin crew is, as aloft, at your disposal. The ship’s schedule will remain unchanged, with meals served at the usual times. However, your safety is my first concern, so I would urge you to stay within sight of the Aurora. The beach looks very pleasant, and the lagoon sheltered. If you wish, please sunbathe and swim, but do keep an eye open for sharks. I must also ask you to refrain from straying inland unless accompanied by a crew member. I hope that you will be able to return to the ship before much longer. Our cabin crew will be serving a full breakfast on the beach shortly. Now you must excuse me while I tend to the ship.”

It was a reassuring oration, I thought, but the passengers were not all soothed. I heard a fair bit of grumbling and caught plenty of worried looks. I turned back to Baz, who was cinching the other end of the tarp to a palm. It made a good screen, enough to keep the ladies’ faces from being blemished by the sun.

The captain had quietly told me, Baz, and the other cabin crew to keep an eye out for any island inhabitants. I can’t say the idea made me very happy. What if they weren’t friendly? So when I wasn’t stealing glances into the darkness of the trees, I was watching the Aurora, afraid something disastrous would befall her. Afraid she would get blown away, or taken over by cannibals, or, more likely, crushed into the sand by her own unaccustomed weight. I didn’t want to be here. I looked up at the sky, a deep cobalt blue. A frigate bird circled high.

Baz and I strung up a few more tarps and then set about serving breakfast with the rest of the cabin crew. It was quite an undertaking, laying out blankets for the passengers, setting up the trestle tables for the buffet, then lugging out the plates and cutlery and napkins and food. It all seemed nonsense to me right now, when the Aurora was ailing. I kept watching her belly, gauging how much more she’d slumped into the sand.

I didn’t want to be outside. Didn’t want to be reminded that I was on an island, with the Aurora aground. I wanted to be inside, helping the ship right now, instead of pampering our passengers.

“How do you expect them to eat?” Baz asked in mock horror when I grumbled all this to him. We were headed back to the ship, teetering with dirty dishes.

“Let them hack open a few coconuts,” I muttered.

“And what next?” he asked. “Wrangling their own sharks? Buttering their own bread? These people did without fresh croissants this morning, Matt. That’s right. These poor people, washed ashore like Robinson Crusoe, making do without croissants. Have some pity, boy.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, grinning.

He looked at me, then back at the Aurora.

“She’ll be fine, you know.”

“I know.” I blinked away tears.

“Been a bit much for everyone, hasn’t it?” Baz sighed. “Especially without fresh croissants.”

I laughed. Baz could always cheer me up.

 

After a hurried breakfast in the crew’s mess, the chief steward, Mr. Lisbon, told me to get some sleep.

“They could probably use an extra hand up top,” I replied, thinking of the sailmakers repairing the ship’s skin.

He shook his head. “Sleep first. Captain’s orders, not mine.”

I was glad there was no one else around to hear this; I knew the captain meant it kindly but it had the ring of being sent to bed by your parents. I got a sudden lump in my throat. My father, who would never send me off to bed again. My mother and sisters back home. The truth was I didn’t want to sleep. On land I never slept well. My lungs didn’t get enough air; my heart clattered. I panicked when I could not feel the sky beneath me, when I could not feel my father near. I just wanted to work.

“Were we able to send off a distress message, sir?” I asked Mr. Lisbon.

“The pirates smashed all the radio gear. Mr. Chaudhuri’s trying to repair it.”

“Perhaps he could use a—”

“You’re off duty, Mr. Cruse. I suggest you sleep now when you’ve got the chance. We’ve all plenty of work ahead of us.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said. I walked mournfully to my cabin and stood beside my bunk. I felt like a six-year-old, not wanting bedtime to come, afraid of the dark. I could feel how tired my body was; maybe I could sleep just a little. Very slowly I took off my trousers and jacket and shirt and climbed up to my bunk. I slid down under the covers, pushed my cheek against the pillow.

I closed my eyes and tried to pretend we were still aloft, still moving. But the smell of mango permeated the ship, and I could not forget we were leaking. All through the ship I heard the soft thuds of crew working on her skin, crew working above me in the bracing wires, crew coming up and down the corridor. I could feel my heart start beating faster. I swallowed, tried to breathe slow and deep. I was aloft. I could fly. I was soaring alongside the ship. I was falling.

My eyes opened. I felt myself start to shake. Out my porthole I could not see the clouds or open sky, only palms and a sweep of beach and some of the passengers promenading on the sand. I heard the waves crashing against the reef. Landlocked.

Shipwrecked.

I threw back the covers, jumped down to the floor, and yanked on my off duty clothes: a pair of trousers, shirt, suspenders, and flat-soled shoes. I could not stay here in the cabin; right now it was just like my room at home, motionless, small, collapsing in on me.

No, not shipwrecked. We would fly again, the captain had promised. I would fly again. I just had to keep moving. I opened the cabin door and practically ran out into the corridor. I nearly collided with Baz and Bruce Lunardi. They looked like they were going somewhere.

“You two need a hand?” I asked.

“If you like,” said Baz. “The captain’s asked us to find some fresh water.”

“We’re not out,” I said, with some alarm. “Are we?”

“Not yet,” Baz said, “but he had to dump most of it last night. We’ve got enough to last maybe one more day.”

“We’ll be gone by then,” I said confidently.

“Even so we’ll need to take on more to make it to Sydney,” Lunardi pointed out. “Plus we need ballast.”

“I know that,” I said, annoyed he was telling me about my ship, and annoyed at myself for forgetting all the ballast we’d dumped. We walked down the gangway onto the beach, squinting in the sudden sun. Bruce and Baz were walking ahead of me, side by side, and I noticed they were about the same height. I supposed they were about the same age too. I wondered when they’d got so chummy; I’d never seen them together before. Suddenly I felt like a little brother, tagging along, unwanted.

“You all right after last night?” I asked Bruce. “Seemed like you were having a rough time up there.”

“I was,” he said, turning around and giving me a smile. It wasn’t a matinee idol smile; it wasn’t cocky enough. This smile was humble, and it took me back some. “Thanks for helping me out,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”

“It was nothing.”

“I don’t have much of a head for heights.”

“You’re in the wrong line of work, then,” I said.

“Probably. Do you think there’s any hope for me?”

I felt bad. “It looked good, your patching,” I told him. “Very tidy.”

“Really?”

I grunted.

“Well, that’s encouraging. Maybe there’s hope for me yet.”

I didn’t want him to feel too encouraged, so I said nothing more.

“Shouldn’t be too hard to find water,” Baz said. “The island looks fairly big. There’s got to be a stream somewhere.”

“Let’s start over there,” said Lunardi, pointing to the far end of the beach.

We walked along the sand, away from the ship, past the makeshift marquees we’d thrown up to shade the passengers. I caught a glimpse of Miss Simpkins stretched out on a wicker lounge chair. She appeared to be dozing, like many of the others. I didn’t see Kate until we were farther along the beach. She was standing close to the water, her back to the lagoon, staring up into the forest and hills. She wore a long white summer dress and a simple white hat with a single magnificent rose on it. Her hair hung around her shoulders in two loose plaits, each tied with a red bow. In one hand she held a parasol, in the other was a book—her grandfather’s journal, I realized. Her chin was tilted up, and she was peering off into the distance. Occasionally she put down her parasol on the sand so she could write something in her book. She looked very intent.

“Who’s that there?” Lunardi asked, squinting. “She’s rather attractive, wouldn’t you say, gentlemen?”

“That’s Miss Kate de Vries,” Baz told him. “And you’ll have stiff competition from Matt. He’s already set his sights on her.” Baz gave me a playful poke with his elbow.

“Don’t talk rubbish,” I muttered.

“Kate de Vries,” Bruce said, surprised. “I do believe I know her.”

“Really?” I said coldly.

“Hmmm,” he said vaguely.

As we approached, Kate looked up and waved.

“Hello!” she called out.

“Are you all right, miss?” Baz asked. “Can we help?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “I’m just taking notes.” She smiled at me. “Hello, Mr. Cruse. How are you today?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“Hello, Miss de Vries,” said Lunardi, “I believe we’ve met before.” He suddenly seemed much older and sure of himself, almost suave.

Kate looked up at him. “Yes, I think you’re right,” she replied. She thinks he’s handsome, I thought forlornly. Plus he was in his uniform and looked very crisp and sharp. I felt shabby in my off duty clothes. His gold steering wheel insignia gleamed in the sun. Cover those up, I wanted to growl. You haven’t earned them. Better yet, tear them off and give them to me.

“Was it at the Wolfram gala last year?” Kate asked.

“Indeed it was,” said Lunardi. “Your mother and mine were on the same fund-raising committee.”

“Yes,” Kate said, “of course. How nice to see you again.”

“What are you taking notes on?” Lunardi asked her.

“Oh, just the local flora and fauna,” Kate said, closing her notebook.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable with the others, miss?” said Baz. “We’re off to find a stream.”

“Oh, it’s over there a ways,” said Kate. “I spotted it earlier. Not far.”

“Really?” I asked, impressed. “You’ve been doing a little exploring?”

“Hardly,” she said. “You can’t miss it.”

Bruce laughed. “Well, she’s saved us a lot of work, gentlemen. Thank you, Miss de Vries. Perhaps we can consult you again when we’re foraging for food.”

“Food won’t be any problem either,” Kate said.

“Found a nice restaurant nearby, have you?” Baz joked.

“Look at those trees,” she said, pointing. “Do you know what they are?”

“Can’t say I do,” said Lunardi.

“Breadfruit trees,” she told him.

“Breadfruit trees,” Lunardi said with a laugh. “Very creative.”

“That’s what they’re called,” she said. I saw her nostrils narrow, and Lunardi’s smile dissolved, his matinee idol suaveness with it. “See the fruit up there in its branches?” Kate went on. “They’re a tremendously filling food. If you split it open. Starchy, but filling. We’re lucky to have them. We won’t starve here, gentlemen. And look, coconut, and mango, and I think that’s pineapple over there. In terms of other food sources, we’ve got an abundance of marine life. Just take a peek in the lagoon. We’ve got many varieties of fish and shellfish.”

We just stared at her, the three of us, in amazement.

“We’re lucky to have you, Miss de Vries,” said Bruce graciously.

“Miss de Vries,” I said, “please don’t tell the captain what useless clods we are, or we’ll all be out of work.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she said, smiling.

“We’d better go take a look at this stream and report back to the captain,” said Baz. “Everyone’s agreed I found it, right, and I had to fight a crocodile and piranhas on the way? Good. Thank you very much, Miss de Vries. You’re a font of wisdom.”

“All from books,” she said.

“I must read them more often,” said Baz.

The three of us said good-bye and ventured up the beach to find Kate’s stream. Before long we caught sight of a little network of rivulets cutting through the sand and emptying into the lagoon. We followed them into the forest where they all joined up and formed a single stream. I bent down and had a taste. Silky fresh. I splashed some on my face. It was cold enough to make my cheekbones ache. I closed my eyes.

“All right?” Baz said to me. “You look a little woozy.”

“I don’t like the way the ground feels under my feet,” I told him.

“You should get some sleep, mate.”

“I’ll sleep later. I’ll sleep when we get off this blinking island.”

“Don’t fancy lugging buckets of water back to the ship much,” said Baz, turning to see how far it was to the Aurora.

“Well, the captain’s not giving us that order yet,” Lunardi said. “He just asked us to find a stream. Here it is. Not going anywhere.”

“Right you are,” said Baz. “This is good news. We won’t die of thirst, at any rate.” He sighed and his shoulders sagged a little. “Bloody hell. I had plans in Sydney.”

“I should get back,” said Lunardi. “Still plenty of patching to do.”

“Will there be enough hydrium left?” I asked. I didn’t like having to ask him. Were I a sailmaker, I would’ve known. Then I wouldn’t have to be making picnic lunches for the passengers.

“I don’t know,” Lunardi admitted. “Shall we head back?”

“You two go on ahead,” I said. “I need some more fresh air.”

“See you back at the ship, then,” Baz said, asking me with his eyes if I was okay. I gave a nod.

I walked a little farther out along the beach. If I’d seen this view in a book, I would’ve said it was beautiful, an image of tropical paradise. But I felt like a convict who’d just been dumped on a prison island. All my thoughts were of escape.

I turned and slowly made my way back toward the Aurora. Kate was still standing alone with her journal, scribbling. It irritated me suddenly, all her intense talk about mysterious winged creatures—it seemed childish right now. What was important was the ship, getting airborne. I felt too sour to speak with her and would have turned away, but she’d already seen me.

“Hello,” she said with a smile. “I was hoping you’d come back alone.”

Amazing how a few words can change everything. I felt a bit of air enter my lungs.

“I wanted to thank you,” she said.

“For what?” I asked, confused.

“When you were helping us on with our life jackets—”

“I was just doing my duty—”

“But it was the way you talked to all of us. You made things seem like they were going to be perfectly all right.”

“I was lying,” I said.

“I thought you were, but it was still immensely comforting.”

“I shouldn’t have said I was lying,” I added hurriedly. “I don’t want you to think we lie all the time or anything. And everything did turn out all right, didn’t it? Maybe not perfectly all right, but—”

“I understand.” She smiled. Despite her parasol, her cheeks were flushed from the sun. Her hair looked redder in the full light. Maybe it was just the red bows—girls knew how to do these things.

“A desert island,” she said, as if it was the most fabulous thing in the world. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

“They said it was uncharted.”

“Uncharted,” she repeated with real zest. “Do you think we’re the first people ever to set foot here?”

“Can’t say I’ve given it much thought.”

I gazed over at the Aurora, bellied up on the sand like a beached whale. Palm trees shifted in the warm breeze. My feet felt alternately heavy as cement blocks or so light they barely touched ground. The whole world looked swimmy to me, unreal.

“Well,” Kate was saying, “I read this terrific book a few months ago about a girl shipwrecked on a desert island. Completely alone.”

“No chaperone?” I asked.

“Actually, I think she did have a maid, but that was it. They had to build their own shelter and hunt for food. It’s really fabulous.”

“I’m glad being shipwrecked appeals to you.”

“Captain Walken made a point of avoiding that word.”

“Well, he was trying to keep everyone jolly, wasn’t he? It’s no good having everyone running around screaming and eating each other.”

“I wouldn’t run around screaming,” she said. “I can see eating someone in a pinch, though. If it really came down to it, I mean.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Come on, Matt Cruse, don’t you find it just a bit exciting, being here?”

“No.”

She looked at me as if I’d suggested we stop breathing for a few hours.

“Well, I’d expected more from you,” she said.

My heart raced with anger. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve been boarded by pirates, had one of our crew murdered, and crash-landed on a desert island no one knows exists. The ship might not fly again. Me, I find this upsetting. But go ahead, think of it like a voyage, tropical beach holiday, and fairy tale, all three for the price of one.”

Kate looked at the sand, contrite, and I almost regretted my sharpness. “I’m sorry. How obtuse of me. You must think me a complete fool.”

I couldn’t help smiling.

“Although,” she said, looking off into the distance again, “I guess technically it’s not really a desert island. That would imply very little flora or fauna, which is obviously not the case here. Are you off duty?”

“For a time, yes.”

“Well, here’s what I’m thinking, Matt Cruse. I don’t think we’re the first people to lay eyes on this island.”

“No?” She had that look. There was no turning away when she shone her eyes on you like that. I should have known we weren’t in for just a simple little chat on the beach.

“No.” Sand and palm trees and blue sky blazed in her eyes. She patted the journal. “Did you read Grandfather’s description of the island?”

“Skimmed over it mostly. I wanted to get to the creatures.”

“Completely understandable. Just listen to this.” She opened the log—she must have had a bookmark, for she didn’t even need to flip pages. She just started reading: “It looks a tropical place, with a crescent shaped beach behind a green lagoon, and densely forested.’”

She closed the book and looked up at me triumphantly. No wonder she was so chipper. We’d crash-landed in the middle of nowhere, but she was in high spirits because she actually thought we’d ended up on the same island where her grandfather had sighted his winged creatures.

“Miss, that would—”

“You’re supposed to call me Kate.”

“Kate. That would describe pretty much every volcanic island in this part of the Pacificus.”

“Yesterday you said our course would take us close to his coordinates. Sometime in the early morning you said?”

I sighed. “Anything’s possible, but let’s say I think it improbable.”

She frowned and opened the book again, turning pages, looking for more evidence.

“I could ask Grantham if he has coordinates for the island,” I offered. “He might not have exact ones; I don’t know how much time he had to chart our course with all the business last night.”

“Would you?” she said, looking up.

“Yes,” I said, but then something in the log caught my eye. It was one of the drawings of the creatures. In the background Kate’s grandfather had sketched a bit of the island. I hadn’t really paid attention to it before.

It was the mountain, the bony peak poking into the sky. I remembered the outline of that peak as we’d made our dawn approach. Startled, I looked back at Kate.

“We’re here,” I said.