The morning watch was mine, but I only half-registered the sound of the caladrius crowing for her biscuit, and I was definitely sleeping when Rotgut came on deck to relieve me at eight. It was a relief too. I’d been having a nightmare: standing before a mirror, gazing into a pair of eyes that weren’t brown like mine, but as black as the abyss, and they were gazing back into me. After Rotgut woke me, I fell back into a light doze, twitching at every sound. The sun pried my eyes open sometime after noon, so I rolled out of bed and put my foot on something cold and slimy.
“Ugh!”
On the deck, in the shadow of my hammock, lay a striped silver fish about the length of my hand. Its eyes were still clear and its scales hadn’t yet lost their opalescent sheen: no more than an hour old. The only marks it bore—aside from a flattened area in the shape of my heel—were twin puncture wounds right behind the eyes. Swag had left me a present.
Rotgut glanced over his shoulder at the sound of my voice; he was standing on the quarterdeck, casting his bait into the blue water. “It’s you and me today,” he said. “Hey, nice dress.”
I reached behind me; the huge pink bow had been crushed as I slept, and the hem was a ruin. “You and me? Double watch?”
Rotgut looked embarrassed. “The captain actually asked me to watch you. He doesn’t want you leaving the ship.”
“I see. And what are you supposed to do if I try anyway?”
“He didn’t say. Just don’t do it. Unless you want him mad at me.”
I sighed, but I hadn’t been planning on leaving anyway. At least not yet. I nodded out at the ocean. “Any luck?”
“Oh, lots,” he said, grinning. I checked the bucket beside his feet; the only thing in it was seawater. “All of it bad.”
“I know how that feels. Here,” I said, slipping the dead fish into the pail. “It’s only a little mangled.”
“Wow. Thanks.” Rotgut pulled up his line to check the bait; the hook was empty. He put on a fresh piece of squid. “I ran away from home once,” he added, almost cheerfully.
“What?”
“I suppose technically I’m still running, since I never went back. That’s why you want to learn to Navigate, isn’t it?” He cast his line. “So you can leave us.”
I leaned on the rail. “Don’t try to guilt me.”
“I’m not.” He was quiet for a while, both of us watching the painted wooden bobber. “Even though we’d never, ever see you again.”
I pursed my lips. “You just said you’ve done the very same thing.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t regret it. Of course, that’s what life is. Gathering regrets to mope about in your old age.”
“Is that what they taught you in your monastery?”
“Nah, I didn’t learn that till after I left. Trouble is, once you leave it’s too late. You can’t come back. You particularly.” He checked his hook again: nothing. “So I would just figure out first if you’re running away, or running to.”
“Running to what?”
He snorted. “I guess that’s your answer.”
“You know, I haven’t made any decisions yet,” I said, annoyed.
“Okay. When you do, give me a chance to say good-bye before you go.” Rotgut dropped the line back into the bay.
The afternoon sunlight was heavy on my shoulders, so I went below to change. The air was stuffy in my cabin, and I was grateful to swap the silk dress for my shirt and trousers.
Back above, I watched the surfers out past the reefs, lithe and tan, flying effortlessly ahead of their white wakes. The sun was harsh in the sky, and it scattered on the water like shards of broken glass. Unbidden, my mind revisited the events of last night, and then skittered away from the embarrassment of it all, then of course back again, like a shark to a carcass. What a mess. I pulled the pendant of my necklace back and forth on the chain, and my eyes went to the lei. It had fallen in the night and now lay in a heap on the deck, wilted and withering.
The choice before me was no clearer in the light of day. Although if Blake made good on his threat to turn us in, perhaps the choice had already been made. In a way, it would have been a relief not to have the option. And yet . . .
I couldn’t deny the temptation. In fact, it was easy to make excuses; I’d read the history. The monarchy was already in decline. Much of the island was owned by foreign interests. Even Blake had said it: the kingdom of Hawaii was already disappearing. Perhaps we were even meant to take the money—perhaps that history had already been written somewhere. And if it was supposed to happen, who could blame me?
The red flowers, sacred to Pele, lay at my feet. Creator, destroyer. I knew exactly who would blame me.
And then, as though summoned, came the voice from the pier. “Miss Song?”