They were gathered around the mess table the morning after, out of earshot of the others so they could speak freely. Miguel was quietly explaining what Gudge had told him of his plans for finding the Pegasus. When he’d finished, everyone sat quietly, mulling it over. Not that it was complicated or anything.
“We need a leader,” Dee said suddenly. “And I think it should be Miguel.”
“No, no, no,” Miguel said. “No, is not necessary.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Penny said, raising her hand. “Who thinks Miguel should be the leader?”
Everyone except Miguel raised their hand.
“Perfect!” Penny said. “I’m glad that’s decided.”
A few of them cracked a smile, including Miguel.
Dee hesitated for a moment, and then reached below the table and placed a white bundle on the table. Everyone looked at it, realising what it was. Before the funeral Captain Blake had explained that the custom of Gudge’s people was to be buried without any possessions.
Dee untied the shirt and unwrapped Gudge’s few belongings.
“I thought... if anyone wanted anything,” she said, her voice catching.
After a long moment in which no one moved, she reached out and took the whittling knife.
The others slowly reached for things. The last item was a small, grey stone.
Tortoise found himself reaching out and taking it. He stared at the stone for a moment and then closed his fist.
Dee gathered up the empty white shirt and crumpled it wordlessly to her chest.
Someone had traded for some worn playing cards, and they played quietly at the mess table for a while. After a couple of hands, Dee said she was sorry and got up from the table and headed out. Penguin glanced at the others and quickly followed her.
Dee was standing on the road outside the mess hall, hands in her pockets. “You want some company?” Penguin asked, coming up beside her.
Dee put her arm around hers without saying anything, and they wandered along the muddy road and up the trail towards the lookout. They got to the bench overlooking the station, the one they’d passed on the way up a couple of days before. Penguin cleared off the snow and they sat down, leaning into each other for warmth.
They stared at their mingled footprints, punched and ploughed in the fresh snow, and looked out over the station. It was Welday, and the station was quiet. The day was clear but the breeze was stiff, the smoke from the chimneys snatched away before it could rise.
“Did he… did he talk to you after we got here?” Dee asked after a while.
Penguin nodded. “Mm. He said I’d done well.”
“He said that to me too.” Dee paused. “Do you think…?”
“Do I think what?”
“I don’t know. I wonder if he knew, somehow. It feels a little bit like he knew. Did he say anything else?”
“He told me how he met the Captain. In Shenzhai. Did you know he had children?”
“Really? No.”
“Yeah. Two girls. Twins.”
“Why didn’t you say anything last night?”
“I dunno. I don’t really know any more than that. He sorta seemed surprised that he’d mentioned it, and changed the subject.”
“I wish I’d asked him more questions.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“So how did they meet?”
“You wanna go visit him?” Penguin asked suddenly. “I feel like seeing him before we go.”
“Yeah,” Dee said. “Let’s go.”
The walk took them half an hour or so. They found the mound easily enough, though the stones they’d piled so carefully the day before were already covered with snow. The snow beyond it swept unbroken down the hill and up steeply into the ice and clouds hanging from the great mountains barring the interior. After a while Dee tried to sing the lament she’d wanted to sing at the funeral and Penguin held her while she cried.
Late in the day, Captain Blake returned from the Narwhal, and they all gathered aboard the ship that night with several whaling captains who were bringing up their daughters and sons in their profession. The captains were “old stagers” with faces lined and seamed by the storms of half a century, and they were even more interested in the story of their voyage than the younger generation. They congratulated them on having accomplished a remarkable journey. It was hard to enjoy the congratulations, though they did their best not to seem ungrateful. They were glad that the Timothy Obi, the boat that had served them so well, was coming with them, repaired and restocked.
The Narwhal was ready on Wududay morning, and at nine o’clock they sailed out of the bay, the whistles of the whaling station sounding a friendly farewell. The eleven companions stood on the deck in little groups, looking back on the cold, desolate island that had claimed their leader, and their friend.
Next episode: Sündalǚ