Arthur Slade - The Dark Deeps: The Hunchback Assignments 2

ARTHUR SLADE has published several novels for young readers, including The Hunchback Assignments; Jolted: Newton Starkers Rules for Survival; Megiddos Shadow; Tribes; and Dust, which won the Governor Generals Literary Award for Childrens Literature. He lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, with his wife, Brenda Baker. Visit him on the Web at www.arthurslade.com.

T he stars saved her life that evening. Colette Chiyoko Brunet was in her cabin aboard the steamship Vendetta, seated at a small oak table papered with maps, diagrams, newspaper clippings, and agents reports. The oil lamp swayed on its chain as each wave struck the ship. In her eighteen years of life she had never had an experience more frustrating than this mission. Even the taunting of her fellow French agents, who called her la sorcire ainokothe half-breed witchwas nothing to what she had undergone this night. They would be snorting derisively now if they knew of her failure.

She glared at the papers: a map with several points ticked off, sailors accounts of sightings of a sea monster or a giant narwhal, and a pencil drawing of a massive metallic fish with the name Ictneo written below it.

She pressed her fingers against her forehead. What was the answer? What had been sinking the ships in this quadrant? She wanted to tear the documents to shreds. She had spent two weeks on the Vendetta, searching for the peculiarity that lurked in the depths. The French government had financed the mission. Ministers believed that the secret of the attacks could unlock some new underwater military weapon for France. Colette had no inkling how they had come to that conclusion. Theyd given her a mess of scribbles and madmans tales, nothing more. Did they intend for her to fail?

Calm down. She sat back. Ah, Papa, she thought. Her father had been an artillery captain in the French army and had married her mother, Amaya, during his first visit to Japan. Hed spent his every spare moment training Colette to survive in un monde svre, a harsh world. The analytical lessons and the discipline stuck early, her mind becoming so sharp it cut through most myths and falsifications. Ah, Papa, I am failing tonight.

An overwhelming sadness consumed her when she thought of her fathers death in the Boshin War, on Japanese soil. A land that was half hers. She knew hed be proud of her, of everything shed done in her short life. She had risen to a prominent position in the world of French secret agents, despite her ainokohalf French, half Japaneseblood.

Colette stood. Fresh air and a view of the sky would help her focus. She tied up her black hair, wrapped a long sable coat about herself and opened the metal door to her cabin, then tiptoed past the snuffling and snoring sailors in their bunks. Next to them was a locker of rifles. She gently ran her hand across the stock of the last gun, then climbed the iron stairs.

The November wind chilled and awakened her. The deck was deserted, but there was a light in the bridge and an ember glow from the crows nesta cigarette. Colette imagined that the only others who were awake labored in the engine room, feeding coal to the furnaces to keep the steam engines chugging.

She breathed deeply and strode across the deck, grabbed the rope railing, and gazed out over the Atlantic. She smelled the salt water and heard the splashing waves, but the sea was so dark it was as if they were sailing through ink.

On the outside the Vendetta looked like a research ship, with the crew dressed as ordinary sailors. Colette knew better. They were marines handpicked from the First Regiment of Linfanterie de marine. The rifles were on board in case they had to defend themselves. A ten-pounder gun was hidden under a canvas in the bow of the ship. Hunters had to be prepared to hunt.

She looked to the heavens. Her father had taught her the constellations; she easily picked out la Grande Ourse, and was comforted. She relaxed her mind by triangulating her position in the Atlantic. They had spent the past few days zigging and zagging through the same coordinatesher maps had indicated that the peculiarity usually appeared here.

Colette leaned against the railing. The darkness reminded her that she was no closer to finding her prey. Tomorrow, the Vendettas coal stores would be too low for them to sail further and they would have to return to Marseille in failure. Colette would be laughed out of the position she had fought to win. There were always other agents scheming to take her place.

A shattering noise startled her; then she fell hard against the railing, then to the deck, smashing her head. She lay still for a moment, realizing shed been inches from plunging to a watery death. The Klaxons sounded and she struggled to her feet, but there was something wrong with her legs. No, not her legsthe deck of the Vendetta listed sharply toward starboard.

Helm, hard to starboard! the captain shouted from the bridge.

My papers! she thought. The deck was at such an angle that she would have to climb toward the stairwell. She took a step, leaning forward; then the ship lurched and she slipped and struck the railing again, jarring her ribs.

Mademoiselle Brunet, are you hurt? It was a seaman, one hand on a rope, the other extended toward her. Marlin from Cherbourg. The son of a tailor.

She took his warm hand and stood again. Did we hit an iceberg?

Not at this time of year, he said.

A naval mine? She hadnt heard an explosion. What have we struck?

Something struck us, another voice said. She turned to see Chief Petty Officer Fortant, holding his balding head, blood seeping down his left cheek. The hull has been breached!

Youre injured! Colette exclaimed.

It doesnt matter. Weve got to move! Were sinking fast!

But I must have my papers!

No time! Fortant replied, pulling her toward the line of lifeboats swinging like pendulums on their davits. Your papers will go down with the ship.

That gave her some solace; at least no one else would read them. Briefly she thought of the lives lost in retrieving those documents from foreign embassies and enemy agents. Such information always had a price.

The ship made a metallic moaning as it listed further. Sailors leapt into the water from the forecastle. The door on the bridge banged open, revealing the captain holding firmly to the wheel, bellowing orders. What few men were able to climb out of the hold lost their footing on the deck and fell headlong into the water.

Marlin was already lowering a lifeboat.

Get in! Fortant shoved Colette into the boat and then he and Marlin tumbled in after her. The boat swung wildly.

What about the sailors below deck?

Faster with that rope, seaman! Fortant said. The lifeboat slipped closer to the water.

What about the others? she demanded, working to keep her voice from cracking.

Fortant shook his head. There is nothing to be done.

She shuddered to think of the sailors in their cots and the engineers and stokers far below in the engine room. At least a hundred men.

Marlin and Fortant worked the ropes, the pulleys squealing. We dont want to be near the Vendetta when she goes down, Fortant said.

With a lurch they smashed into the side of the ship; to her shame Colette let out a yelp. When they finally hit the water, they were nearly swamped by the splash. The men grabbed oars.

Row hard, Marlin! Fortant yelled. Harder, you dog! Shell suck us down with her.

As their boat rode the waves, Colette looked back at the vast sides of the Vendetta, the stern lifting higher and higher, gleaming wet in the moonlight. The roar of wind and waves could not drown out the desperate cries of the sailors in the water. The lifeboat tossed up and down as they rowed away.