Page 77 of Valour

Arnold turned to face her, worry etched on his face. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

She gave him a tight smile. “It’s alright.”

Marjorie began barking, and Charlotte got up, brushing snow from her front and trying to quieten the dog. But Marjorie was barking at a second seal that had appeared, and Charlotte hid her eyes as Arnold shot that one too.

“Two! Lucky dogs. We’ll be eating seal steak tonight too,” Arnold said. “It never rains, it pours, as they say. Wait—is that a penguin?”

“Oh, look at it. They’re such dear creatures,” Charlotte said as it waddled along the snow. How sweet they were. Such darlings⁠—

Crack!

Charlotte covered her mouth in horror as the penguin fell to the ice. “Arnold! How could you?!”

25

IN WHICH THERE IS A VERY DEEP, MUTUAL HATRED AND SOME THINGS ARE TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE

24th October 1915, Weddell Sea

The leaks always happened while she was asleep.

Hester stifled a yawn, crouched in the starboard bilge with Winston. It was dark, she was wet and freezing cold and the rotten egg smell of the bilge water had her pinching her nose. All she wanted was to curl up in her sleeping bag. Not that the reindeer pelt smelt much better.

“There, that’s got that hole filled.” Winston slammed the hammer down one last time and stood back to admire his work.

Hester sniggered. “Wish you’d fill my⁠—”

Winston gave her a mockingly stern look. “Very funny.” He grinned and then yawned, stretching in the cramped space.

“To bed with you. Thank you, Winston,” Hester said, wrapping her arms around his middle and squeezing tight. She really didn’t know what she’d do without him.

He hugged her back. “You’re welcome.”

Hester climbed from the bilge and grimaced as the ship groaned and quivered around her. A pistol shot fired, so loud that she crouched to the floor and covered her ears. Her blood ran cold. But it was only the beams of the ship cracking overhead.

“Good God,” she muttered. The floe was pressing in on the ship in dangerous ways, and over the last two days so many leaks had sprung that there was a constant watch for incoming water. The fires had burned continuously to power the bilge pumps, and the coal was running low. Luckily, Winston had invented a stove fuelled by blubber for them to cook on.

Hester made her way to the chart room and stood at the large table. She picked up a pencil and tapped it against her mouth, scowling at the charts. She was starting to grapple with the thing she had dreaded.

That the Valour might not make it out of this adventure alive. That her friends might not either.

She braced her hands on the table and let out a long breath, calculating how long it would take to unload the rest of the provisions, how far it would be to drag the lifeboats over the ice floes to open water, and where they might try to sail to after that. The odds on making it over a thousand miles to South Georgia with no ship seemed…low.

The thought of losing the Valour made her want to throw up, but she wasn’t sure how much more the ship would take. Millions of tonnes of ice pressed in from all sides, and as another pistol-crack rang out, it seemed that the ship was in agreement.

She slumped onto the settee and ground her teeth. The sun had sunk briefly beneath the horizon but would be back up in a couple of hours, the days growing longer and longer as they approached summer. She sat in the gloom, all alone with thoughts of crushing ice and splintering planks, until Charlotte walked in.

“What are you doing up?” Hester asked, shoulders tensing.

“I just came off watch.” Charlotte rubbed her arms, frost falling from her coat. “You look…pained.”

“I am. I feel her agony in my very bones,” Hester said, wincing at another moan of the wood. “It sounds as though she is dying.”

Charlotte straightened her spine. “It’s not over yet.”

“Not yet.” Hester patted the space next to her on the settee, the place Fliss would usually sit. A pang shot through her heart. Oh, she missed Fliss. Things were still awful between them, and a moroseness had gathered over her like a fog she could not clear. Charlotte sat beside her. At least Septimus seemed to have forgiven her since she’d told him more about her magic. Had reverted to calling her little witch. She had been enjoying playing silly tricks on him again these past few days. It was helping. A little.

Hester pulled out the watch rota from her coat pocket and looked down the list of names. “Say, did Septimus just come off watch, too?”