Nation

CHAPTER 15 The World Turned Upside Down

MAU AWOKE. A STRANGE woman was spooning gruel into him. When she saw his eyes open, she gave a little shriek, kissed him on the forehead, and ran out of the hut.

Mau stared up at the ceiling while it all came back. Some bits were a little blurred, but the tree and the axe and the death of Cox were as clear to him as the little gecko watching from the ceiling with upside-down eyes. But it was as if he was watching someone else, just a little way in front of him. It was another person, and that person was him.

He wondered if —

“Does not happen!” The scream was like lightning through his head, because it came from a beak about six inches from his ear. “Show us your” — here the parrot muttered to itself, then went on, rather sullenly — “underthings.”

“Ah, good. How are you?” said the ghost girl, stepping inside.

Mau sat bolt upright. “You’ve got blood all over you!”

“Yes. I know. There goes the last good blouse,” said Daphne. “Still, he’s much better now. I’m pretty proud of myself, actually. I had to saw a man’s leg off below the knee! And I sealed the wound with a bucket of hot tar, exactly according to the manual!”

“Doesn’t that hurt?” asked Mau, lying back on the mat again. Sitting up had made him dizzy.

“Not if you pick it up by the handle.” She looked at his blank expression. “Sorry, that was a joke. Thank goodness for Mrs. Gurgle; she can make someone sleep through anything. Anyway, I think the man is going to live now, which is more than he would have with that terrible wound in it. And this morning I had to cut off a foot. It’d gone all… well, it was awful. Those captives were treated very badly.”

“And you’ve been sawing the bad bits off them?”

“It’s called surgery, thank you so very much! It’s not hard if I can find someone to hold the instruction manual open at the right page.”

“No! No, I don’t think it’s wrong!” said Mau quickly. “It’s just that… it’s you doing it. I thought you hated the sight of blood.”

“That’s why I try to stop it. I can do something about it. Come on, let’s get you up.” She put her arms around him.

“Who was that woman who was feeding me? I’ve seen her before.”

“Her real name is Fi-ha-el, she says…,” said Daphne, and Mau clutched at the wall for support. “We used to call her the Unknown Woman. And now we call her the Papervine Woman.”

“Her? But she looked completely different — ”

“Her husband was in one of those canoes. She went right up to it and dragged him out by herself. I’m blessed if I know how she knew which one he was in. I sent her to look after you because, well, it was his leg I had to saw off.”

“Newton was greatest!” screamed the parrot, bouncing up and down.

“And I thought the parrot was dead!” said Mau.

“Yes, everyone thought the parrot was dead,” said Daphne, “except the parrot. He turned up yesterday. He is minus one toe and a lot of feathers, but I think he will be fine when his wing heals. He runs after the grandfather birds now. They really hate that. I’ve, er, started doing something about his language.”

“Yes, I thought you had,” said Mau. “What’s New-Tan?”

“Newton,” Daphne corrected absentmindedly. “Remember I told you about the Royal Society? He was one of the first members. He was the greatest scientist there has ever been, I think, but when he was an old man, he said he felt that he had been like a little boy playing with pebbles on the beach while a great ocean of truth lay undiscovered before him.”

Mau’s eyes widened, and she was shocked to realize that it had been a long time since she’d seen him look so young.

“He stood on this beach?”

“Well, er, not this beach, obviously,” said Daphne. “Possibly not even any beach. It’s what trousermen call a metaphor. A kind of lie to help you understand what’s true.”

“Oh, I know about those,” said Mau.

“Yes, I think you do.” Daphne smiled. “Now come out into the fresh air.”

She took Mau’s hand. There were a few nasty grazes that he didn’t remember getting, his whole body felt stiff, and there was a ragged wound where the flesh of his ear had been, but it could have been a lot worse. He remembered the bullet in the water, slowing down and dropping into his hand. Water could be hard — you only had to belly flop from a height to know that — but even so…

“Come on!” said Daphne, dragging him into the light.

The Women’s Place was full. There were people in the fields. The beach was busy. There were even children playing in the lagoon.

“We’ve got so much to do,” said Mau, shaking his head.

“They are already doing it,” said Daphne.

They watched in silence. Soon people would spot them and they would be back in the world again, but right now they were part of the scenery.

After a while the girl said: “I remember when it was… just nothing, and there was a boy who didn’t even see me.”

And the boy said: “I remember a ghost girl.”

After a longer silence, the girl asked: “Would you go back? If you could?”

“You mean, without the wave?”

“Yes. Without the wave.”

“Then I’d have gone home, and everyone would have been alive, and I would be a man.”

“Would you rather be that man? Would you change places with him?” asked the ghost girl.

“And not be me? Not know about the globe? Not have met you?”

“Yes!”

Mau opened his mouth to reply and found it choked with words. He had to wait until he could see a path through them.

“How can I answer you? There is no language. There was a boy called Mau. I see him in my memory, so proud of himself because he was going to be a man. He cried for his family and turned the tears into rage. And if he could, he would say ‘Did not happen!’ and the wave would roll backward and never have been. But there is another boy, and he is called Mau, too, and his head is on fire with new things. What does he say? He was born in the wave, and he knows that the world is round, and he met a ghost girl who is sorry she shot at him. He called himself the little blue hermit crab, scuttling across the sand in search of a new shell, but now he looks at the sky and knows that no shell will ever be big enough, ever. Will you ask him not to be? Any answer will be the wrong one. All I can be is who I am. But sometimes I hear the boy inside crying for his family.”

“Does he cry now?” asked Daphne, looking down at the ground.

“Every day. But very softly. You won’t hear him. Listen, I must tell you this. Locaha spoke to me. He spread his great wings over me on the beach and drove the Raiders away. Didn’t you see that?”

“No. The Raiders ran as soon as Cox went down,” said Daphne. “You mean you met Death? Again?”

“He told me that there were more worlds than there are numbers. There is no such thing as ‘does not happen.’ But there is always ‘happened somewhere else’ — ” He tried to explain, while she tried to understand.

When he’d run out of words, she said: “You mean that there is a world where the wave didn’t happen? Out… there somewhere?”

“I think so…. I think I’ve almost seen it. Sometimes, at night, when I’m watching the shore, I almost see it. I nearly hear it! And there is a Mau there, a man who is me, and I pity him, because there is no ghost girl in his world….”

She put her arms around his neck and gently pulled him toward her. “I wouldn’t change anything,” she said. “Here I’m not some sort of doll. I have a purpose. People listen to me. I’ve done amazing things. How could I go back to my life before?”

“Is that what you’ll tell your father?” His voice was suddenly sad.

“Something like that, I think, yes.”

Mau gently turned her around, so that she was looking at the sea.

“There’s a ship coming,” he said.

The schooner had anchored outside the reef by the time they had got down to the lagoon. Daphne waded out as far as she could, regardless of her dress floating up around her, while a boat was lowered.

On the shore, Mau watched as the man in the prow of the boat jumped off as soon as it was near her and, laughing and crying together, they helped each other up the slope of the sand. The crowd moved back to give them room as they embraced — but Mau was watching the two men climbing out of the boat. They had red jackets on and held complicated sticks, and looked at Mau as if he was, at best, a nuisance.

“Let me look at you,” said His Excellency, standing back. “Why, you look — What happened to you? There’s blood on your shoulder! We have a doctor on board, and I’ll get him to — ”

Daphne glanced down. “It’s just a splash,” she said, waving a hand. “Besides, it’s not mine. I had to saw a man’s leg off, and I haven’t had time to wash.”

Behind them a third soldier got out of the boat carrying a thick tube, which he began to unroll. He looked nervously at Mau.

“What is happening here?” snapped Mau. “Why do they have guns? What is this man doing?” He stepped forward, and two bayonets barred his way.

Daphne turned her head and pulled away from her father. “What’s this?” she demanded. “You can’t stop him from walking around in his own country! What’s in that tube? It’s a flag, isn’t it? You brought a flag! And guns!”

“We didn’t know what we were going to find, dear,” said her father, taken aback. “After all, there are cannon up there.”

“Well, all right, yes,” muttered Daphne, stumbling over her own anger. “They’re just for show.” The rage flamed up again. “But those guns aren’t! Put them down!”

His Excellency nodded at the men, who put their muskets, very carefully but also very quickly, down on the sand. Milo had just walked onto the beach to see what the fuss was about, and he tended to loom.

“And the flag!” said Daphne.

“Just hold on to it, Evans, if you would be so kind,” said His Excellency. “Look, dear, we mean no harm to these, er” — he glanced up at Milo — “nice people, but we must back up our claim to the Mothering Sunday Islands. We hold that they are just an extension of the Bank Holiday Monday Islands — ”

“Who’s we? You?”

“Well, ultimately the king — ”

“He can’t have this one!” Daphne screamed. “He doesn’t need it! He can’t have it! He hasn’t finished with Canada yet!”

“Dear, I think the privations of your time on this island may have affected you in some way — ” His Excellency began.

Daphne took a step backward. “Privations? There is nowhere I would rather have been than here! I’ve helped babies to be born! I killed a man — ”

“The one whose leg you sawed off?” asked her father, mystified.

“What? Him? No, he’s doing very well,” said Daphne, waving a hand dismissively. “The one I killed was a murderer. And I’ve made beer. Really good beer! Father, you must listen right now. It’s very important that you understand right now. This is the other end of the world, Father, it really is. This is the beginning. This… is the place where you might grant God absolution.”

She hadn’t meant it to come out. He stood there, stunned.

She added: “I’m sorry. You and Grandmother were shouting so loud that night and I couldn’t help overhearing,” and, since there was no point in being deceitful at a time like this, she also added, “Especially since I was trying hard to.”

He looked up at her, his face gray. “What is so special about this place?” he asked.

“There’s a cave. It’s got wonderful carvings in it. It’s ancient. It may be more than a hundred thousand years old.”

“Cavemen,” said His Excellency calmly.

“I think there are star maps on the ceiling. They invented… well — practically everything. They sailed all over the world when we huddled around our fires. I can prove it, I think.” Daphne took her father’s hand. “There’s still some oil in the lamps,” she said. “Let me show you. Not you!” she added as the guards sprang to attention. “You will stay here. And no one is to take over anyone’s country while we’re gone, is that understood?”

The men looked at His Excellency, who shrugged vaguely, a man who had been thoroughly daughtered.

“Whatever she says, of course,” he said.

His daughter took his hand and said, “Come and see.”

They started off up the path but were not out of earshot when Pilu walked up to the soldiers and said, “Would you like some beer?”

“Don’t let them drink it until they have spat in it and sung ‘Baa, Baa, Black Sheep’ sixteen times” was the order from on high, followed by, “and tell them we need lamp oil.”

The first thing her father said when he saw the gods was “My goodness!” Then, after staring at things with his mouth open, he managed to say, “Incredible! All this belongs in a museum!”

She couldn’t let him get away with that one, and she said, “Yes, I know. That’s why it is, in fact, in one.”

“And who will look at it down here?”

“Anyone who wants to come and see, Papa. And that will mean every scientist in the world.”

“It’s a long way from anywhere important, though,” His Excellency observed, running his fingers over the stone globe.

“No, Papa. This is the important place. It’s everywhere else that is a long way away. Anyway, that wouldn’t matter to the Royal Society. They would swim up here in lead boots!”

“Down here, dear, I think,” said her father.

Daphne pushed the globe. It rolled a little way and the continents danced. But now the world was turned upside down. “It’s a planet, Papa. Up and down are just ways of looking at it. I’m sure people here won’t object to copies being made for all the big museums. But don’t take this place away from them. It’s theirs.”

“I think people will say it belongs to the world.”

“And they will be thinking like thieves. We have no right to it at all. But if we don’t act like stupid bullies, I’m sure they will be gracious.”

“Gracious,” said her father, turning over the word in his mouth as if it was an unfamiliar biscuit.

Daphne’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t go suggesting that grace is something you find only at the other end of the world, will you, Papa?”

“No, you’re quite right. I will do what I can, of course. This is a very important place, I can see that.”

She kissed him.

When he spoke again, he sounded nervous and unsure of how to put things. “So you’ve been… all right here? Eating well? Finding things to do… um… apart from sawing legs off?”

“It was only one leg, honestly. Oh, and a foot. I helped deliver two babies — well, to be honest I really only watched and sang a song the first time, and I’ve been learning about medicines from Mrs. Gurgle in exchange for chewing her pork for her — ”

“You… chew… her… pork for her…,” her father repeated, as if hypnotized.

“Well, she hasn’t got any teeth, you see?”

“Ah, yes, of course.” His Excellency shifted uneasily. “And did you have any other… adventures?”

“Let me think…. I was saved from drowning by Mau, who is the chief now, and, oh yes, I met a cannibal chief who looked just like the prime minister!”

“Really?” said her father. “Although, come to think of it, that’s not hard to imagine. And… er… and was anyone… did anyone… try to be… beastly to you?”

It was said so carefully that she nearly laughed. Fathers! But she couldn’t tell him about the giggling maids and the kitchen gossip, let alone Cahle’s jokes. She had spent a lot of time at the Women’s Place. Surely he didn’t imagine she walked around with her eyes shut and her fingers in her ears?

“There was a murderer. He was one of the crew of the Judy, I’m sorry to say,” she said. “He shot someone and then pointed a pistol at me.”

“Great heavens!”

“So I poisoned him. Well, sort of. But the Nation called it something like… what do you call it when a hangman hangs somebody?”

“Er… a judicial execution?” said His Excellency, a man trying hard to keep up.

“That’s right. And I broke another man’s nose with a clay bowl because he was going to shoot me.”

“Really? Well, I suppose poison would have taken too long,” said His Excellency, attempting to make the best of it. His face was ghastly in the lamplight, and it looked to Daphne as if it was made of wax and was about to melt.

“Now that I come to talk about it, it does all seem a bit… um… ” She trailed off.

“Busy?” her father suggested.

And then she told him everything else — about the way the moon shone over the lagoon, and how bright the stars were, and the mutiny, and poor Captain Roberts, and the parrot, and the red crabs, and the pantaloon birds, and the tree-climbing octopi and First Mate Cox, while the gods looked down. She towed him past the hundreds of white slabs around the walls, talking all the time.

“Look, that’s a giraffe. They knew about Africa! There’s an elephant farther on, but it may be Indian. This is clearly a lion. One of the stones that ended up on the beach has got a carving of a horse on it, and who would bring one here? But the carvings on these other panels don’t seem to show anything I can recognize, so I’m wondering if this section is some kind of alphabet — A is for apple and so on — but a lot of panels have these lines and dots around the edges, so I could be completely wrong. And see how often there is a hand somewhere in the carving! I’m positive it’s there as a guide to size. And over here… ” And so on, until at last she finished with: “And I’m sure they had a telescope.”

“Oh, surely not! Is there a carving of one?”

“Well, no. But a lot of slabs are missing.” Then she told him about the sons of Jupiter and the snake around Saturn.

He didn’t seem too impressed, but he patted her on the hand. “Or the skies were clearer once,” he said. “Or there was a man with extremely good eyesight.”

“But I’ve come up with a good scientific explanation!”

Her father shook his head. “Much as I love you, it’s a guess. And, may I say, a hope. You must work harder than that, my girl.”

Ah, those arguments we used to have coming back from the society, Daphne thought. I’m going to have to fight. Good!

She pointed to the gods. “They shine because they are covered with little plates of glass,” she said. “Those are held on with lead nails. One of the boys swam over and had a look for me. The people here knew how to make fine glass!”

Her father, sitting with his back to the cool stone, gave a nod. “That is quite likely. Many cultures make glass. We have the beginnings of a hypothesis, but you need to find your lens maker.”

“Papa, it stands to reason that sooner or later a glassmaker would notice a bubble in the glass and see how the light — ”

But her father had held up a hand. “Science is not interested in what ‘stands to reason,’” he said. “It ‘stands to reason’ that the Earth is flat. What we know is that the Romans took some interest in crude lenses, and that eyeglasses were not invented until the thirteenth century. The Italian Salvino D’Armate is generally credited with — ”

“Why is it always so, so… northern hemisphere?” said Daphne. “Turn the world upside down!” She pulled her father over to the wall near the globe and pointed to a panel. “You remember I told you they were very keen on showing hands holding things, too?” she said, and held up the lamp. “There! Doesn’t that look like a pair of spectacles to you?”

He looked at the panel critically, like a man trying to decide between cake and pie.

“It could be,” he said, “but it could be a mask, or scales, or have some mysterious religious significance. It doesn’t help you much, I’m sorry to say.”

Daphne sighed. “Look, if I found some evidence that they knew about lenses, would you accept they may have known how to build a telescope?”

“Yes, that would be reasonable. I won’t accept that they did, mind you, only that they may have done so.”

“Come and see.”

This time she led him to the other side of the gods, to a niche in the wall where the white panel had fallen out.

“One of the boys found them in silt at the bottom of the god pool. The glass is broken on one side and the other is cracked, but you can see they were lenses. Be careful.” She laid them carefully in his hand.

He blinked. “Gold-rimmed spectacles… ” But he breathed the words rather than said them.

“Have I proved my telescope theory, Papa?” she said gleefully. “We know that eyeglasses lead on to telescopes.”

“Once before, at least. Or since, I’m sure you would say. Why didn’t you show me these straightaway?”

“I just wanted to make you admit I was doing proper science!”

“Well done,” said His Excellency. “You have built a very strong hypothesis indeed, but I’m sorry to say that you have not proved the full theory. You’d need to find the telescope for that.”

“That’s unfair!” said Daphne.

“No, it’s science,” said her father. “‘Could have’ isn’t good enough. Nor is ‘might have’! ‘Did’ is the trick. But when you announce this, a lot of people will try to prove you wrong. The more they fail, the more right you will become. And they will probably try to suggest that some European traveler came here and lost his eyeglasses.”

“And his false teeth made of gold?” snapped Daphne. She told him about Mrs. Gurgle’s proudest possession.

“I would very much like to see them. Some people will find them easier to accept. Don’t be discouraged about the telescope. What is clear is that this place was the home of a hitherto unknown seafaring culture that was very adept in the technical arts. Good heavens, my girl, most people would be ecstatic to have discovered all this!”

“I didn’t,” said Daphne. “Mau did. I just had to look over his shoulder. He had to walk past a hundred thousand ancestors. This is their place, Papa. Their ancestors built it. And put on the globe there the symbol of a wave breaking in front of the setting sun, which every man of the islands has worn as a tattoo for thousands of years. I saw it! And you know what? I can prove that no European has been into this cave before me.” Daphne looked around, chest heaving with passion. “See the gold on the gods and the globe and the big door?”

“Yes. Of course, dear. I could hardly fail to notice.”

“There you are, then,” said Daphne, picking up the lamp. “It’s still here!”

Mau sat with one of the Judy’s charts on his knees. This was, officially, a meeting of the island council, or would have been if anything on the island was official. Anyone could come, and because anyone could, many didn’t. There were more new people to be cared for and fed; many might go back to their own islands, if they still existed, but the people had to be fit and fed. That meant more work all around. And some people didn’t turn up because they had gone fishing; when it comes to voting or fishing, sea bass usually wins.

“All the red places belong to the English trousermen?” Mau asked.

“Yup,” said Pilu.

“That’s a lot of places!”

“Yup.”

“They’re not too bad,” said Pilu. “Mostly they want you to wear trousers and worship their god. He’s called God.”

“Just… God?”

“Right. He’s got a son who is a carpenter, an’ if you worship him, you climb the shining path when you die. The songs is nice and sometimes you get a biscuit.” Pilu watched Mau carefully. “What are you thinking, Mau?” he asked.

“Other people will come. Some will have guns,” said Mau thoughtfully.

“True,” said Pilu. “There is a lot of the yellow gold in the cave. Trousermen like it because it shines. They are like children.”

“Big children,” said Milo, “with guns.”

“What do you think we should do, Cahle?” said Mau, still looking at the maps.

The woman gave a shrug. “I trust the ghost girl. A father of a girl like that would be a good man.”

“How about if I take a canoe and sail it to the trouserman island and stick my flag in the sand?” said Tom-ali. “Will that make it our place?”

“No,” said Mau. “They would laugh. Flags are like guns that flap. If you have a flag, you need a gun.”

“Well? We have guns too.”

Mau fell silent.

“And bad gunpowder,” Pilu pointed out.

“I think… I think if you are a suckfish in a sea o’ sharks, you must swim with the biggest shark,” said Milo. This met with general approval; the island council was still learning about international politics, but they were experts on fish.

They all looked at Mau, who was staring at the chart again. He stared at it for so long that they began to worry. There had been something different about him since the Raiders had left. Everyone said so. He walked like someone whose feet only touched the ground because he told them to; when you talked to him, he looked at you like a man scanning a new horizon that only he could see.

“We cannot be stronger than the Empire,” he said, “but we can be something it doesn’t dare to be. We can be weak. The ghost girl told me about a man called Eyes-Ack New-Tan. He was not a warrior, he had no spear, but the sun and the moon spun inside his head and he stood on the shoulders of giants. The king of that time did him great honor because he knew the secrets of the sky. And I have an idea. I will talk to the ghost girl.”

There should be a word like honeymoon, Daphne thought, but not about husband and wife, rather about parent and child. This one lasted twelve days, and she felt as though she was the parent and he the child. She’d never seen her father like this before. They explored the whole of the island; he had picked up an amazing amount of the language in a short time. He went torch fishing with Milo and got rascally drunk on beer with the other men, so that they all ended up paddling one of the big canoes in several directions at once while singing the words of his old school song.

He taught them cricket, and they played a match against the soldiers and sailors from the ship, with rifles for stumps. It became very interesting when Cahle was allowed to bowl.

Daphne’s father declared that not only was Cahle the fastest bowler he had ever seen, but she also had an almost Australian talent for vicious and forensic accuracy with the ball. After the first three whimpering soldiers were carried down to the lagoon so they could sit in the water until the stinging died away, the fourth man took one look at her thundering toward him with her right arm swinging and ran away into the woods, clutching his helmet over his groin. For the sake of the game she was banned from bowling after Daphne’s father explained that women should not really be allowed to play cricket because they fundamentally didn’t understand it. But it seemed to Daphne that Cahle understood it very well, and therefore tried to get it over with as quickly as possible so that they could get on with something more interesting, since in her opinion the world was overwhelmingly full of things that were more interesting than cricket.

It was not much better for the soldiers when the islanders went to bat. Not only were they devilishly good at swinging a bat, but they had somehow picked up the idea that the ball should be aimed at someone on the opposing side. In the end the match was declared a draw because of injuries, most of them sitting in the lagoon.

And the ship came, and play stopped in any case.

Mau saw it first; he was always the first to see anything that came from the sea. It was the largest ship he had seen, with so many sails, it looked like a storm heading for them. Everyone was waiting on the beach as it anchored outside the lagoon and lowered a boat. There weren’t soldiers this time. The boat was rowed by four men in black.

“My word, that’s the Cutty Wren,” said His Excellency, handing the bat back to Pilu. “I wonder what they want here…. Ahoy, you chaps! Do you need help or something?”

The boat touched the sand and one of the men jumped out, hurried toward him, and drew him, protesting gently, along the beach and away from the match.

The conversation that took place was baffling to Mau, because the man in the black clothes spoke in a whisper while His Excellency asked questions at the top of his voice, so that what he heard was a fast buzzing, punctuated with explosions, as in “Me?”… “What, all of them?”… “What about Uncle Bernie? I know for a fact he is in America!”… “They have lions there?”… “Look, I’m really not — ”… “Right here?”… “Well, of course no one wants another Richard the Lionheart, but surely we don’t need”… and so it went on. Then His Excellency held up a hand to stop the man in black in mid buzz and turned to Mau. He looked shaken, and in a strained voice said, “Sir, would you be so good as to fetch my daughter? I believe she is up at the Ladies’ Place, stitching somebody. Er, I’m sure this will all turn out to be a misunderstanding. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

When they got back, His Excellency’s soldiers, who had been lounging around in their shirtsleeves for more than a week, had struggled back into their red coats and were standing on guard, although at the moment they were unsure whom they were guarding from what and how, not to mention why, and so until there were any orders to speak of, they were guarding everyone from everything.

Another boat had been lowered and was heading into the lagoon, with more people in it. One of them, sitting bolt upright, was unfortunately familiar to Daphne.

She ran to her father. “What’s going on?” Daphne glared at the men in the black suits and added, “And who are these… people?”

“Is this your delightful daughter, sire?” said one of the men, raising his hat to her.

“Sire?” said Daphne. She glared at the man in black. No one should call anyone delightful without written proof.

“It turns out that I am, not to put too fine a point on it, king,” said His Majesty. “This has not come at a good time, I must say. This gentleman is Mr. Black, from London.”

Daphne stopped glaring. “But I thought one hundred and thirty — ” she began. Then an expression of horror crossed her face. She looked back at the approaching row boat. “Has my grandmother been doing anything… silly? With knives and guns, perhaps?”

“Her ladyship? Not that I am aware,” said the Gentleman of Last Resort. “Here she comes now, Your Majesty. We called first at Port Mercia, of course, and picked up the Right Reverend Topleigh. I’m afraid the archbishop of Canterbury does not travel well, but he has sent instructions for the coronation.”

“A coronation here? Surely it can wait!” said His Majesty.

But Daphne was watching the figure in the distant boat. It couldn’t be true, could it? She wouldn’t come all this way, would she? For the chance of bossing a king around? Of course she would — she would have towed the ship with her teeth! And this time he wouldn’t be able to run away to the other end of the world.

“Strictly speaking, yes,” said Mr. Black. “You became king as soon as the last king died. At that very second. That’s how it works.”

“Really?” said His Majesty.

“Yes, sire,” said Mr. Black patiently, “God arranges it.”

“Oh good,” said the king weakly. “That’s very clever of Him.”

“And for full ratification, you understand, you must stand on the soil in England, but in these unusual circumstances,” Mr. Black went on, “and uncertain times, and so on and so forth, we thought it might save any argument — if we were delayed, for example — if the crown was firmly on your head. It would save any hairsplitting arguments — with the French, for instance — which can take such a long time.”

“There was the Hundred Years’ War, for example,” said a second gentleman.

“Well pointed out, Mr. Amber. In any case, we will have another coronation once we get home — which must, now, be a matter of some urgency, of course. Bunting, cheering, souvenir mugs for the children, that sort of thing. But in this case the Crown thought it would send out the right message to get you sorted out, as I might say, as soon as possible.” As he spoke, two of his colleagues began to take apart, with great care, the small crate they had brought ashore with them.

“Am I not the Crown?” asked His Majesty.

“No, sire, you are the king, sire,” said Mr. Black patiently. “You are, like us, underneath it. Subject to it.”

“But surely I can give you orders?”

“You can certainly make requests, sire, and we will do our very best to help. But, alas, you cannot give us orders. My word, we would be in a bad way if we took orders from kings. Isn’t that so, Mr. Brown?”

One of the men working on the crate looked up briefly. “It would be Charles the First all over again, Mr. Black.”

“You never said a truer word, Mr. Brown,” said Mr. Black. “It would be Charles the First all over again, and I don’t think any of us want to see Charles the First all over again, do we?”

“Why not?” asked Daphne.

Mr. Black turned to her and looked for a moment as if he was giving her a very quick examination.

“Because his arrogance and stupidity nearly lost England for the Crown, Your Royal Highness,” he said eventually.

Oh dear, thought Daphne, I am a princess now. Cor blimey. And I don’t think it’s the kind of thing you can resign from! A princess! Did you hear that, Mr. Foxlip, wherever you are? Ha!

“But wasn’t it Oliver Cromwell who had him executed?” she managed, trying to sound regal.

“Certainly, ma’am. But Oliver Cromwell wasn’t the problem. Charles the First was the problem. Oliver Cromwell was the solution. I’ll grant you he was a bit of a nuisance for a while afterward, but at least his unpleasant rule made people happy to see a king again. The Crown knows how to wait.”

“Charles the First’s head was cut off,” said Daphne, watching the new boat hit the sand.

“Clearly another reason for not wanting to see him,” said Mr. Black smoothly. “We wouldn’t be able to understand what he was saying.”

A plump man in clerical clothing, except possibly for the sarong, was helped out of the boat, and he in turn offered his hand to, yes, her grandmother. She was carrying an umbrella. An umbrella! It wasn’t to keep the rain off, of course. It was for prodding people, Daphne knew.

“Ah, and here is Her Ladyship now,” said Mr. Black, quite unnecessarily in Daphne’s view. He added: “She was wonderful company on the voyage out here. The nautical miles just flew past.” The little smile on his face was a masterpiece.

Grandmother looked around at the island, as if inspecting it for dust, and sighed. “One would have thought that we could have found somewhere cleaner,” she said. “Never mind. I trust you are well, Henry, and ready for the responsibility that has been thrust upon us by Divine Providence?”

“You mean all those people dying was provident?” said Daphne sharply. In her mind’s eye, ancestors toppled like dominoes… 138 of them.

“That is no way to speak to your grandmother, Daphne,” said her father.

“Daphne? Daphne? What is this ‘Daphne’?” said Her Ladyship. “Ridiculous name. Don’t be silly, Ermintrude. Now, can we get on with things before we get eaten, for goodness’ sake?”

Daphne blushed in anger and embarrassment. “How dare you! Some of these people can speak English!”

“So?”

Daphne took a deep breath, and then her father’s hand was laid gently on her shoulder just as she opened her mouth. She shut it again, letting the rage seethe inside.

“That’s not the way, dear,” he said. “And we must get on.” He left her and shook hands with the bishop. “Ah, Charlie, good to see you. Your pointy hat not here?”

“Lost at sea, old boy. And when I picked up my crosier, it was full of blasted termites! Sorry about the sarong, couldn’t find m’ trousers,” said the bishop, shaking the king’s hand. “Wretched shame about what’s been happening, of course. Bit of a shock all around. Still, it’s not given to us to know the way the ways of Prov — of the Almighty.”

“It was probably an Act of God,” said Daphne.

“Indeed, indeed,” said the bishop, fumbling in his bag.

“Or a miracle,” Daphne went on, defying her grandmother to take her by the ear on her beach. But Grandmother did not take defiance lightly, or at all.

“I shall talk to you later about this wayward behavior, Ermintrude — ” she began, striding forward. But two gentlemen were suddenly in her way.

“Ah, here it is,” said the bishop very loudly, and he straightened up. “Of course we don’t generally carry royal anointing oil out here, but my lads make a coconut oil that keeps cricket bats nice and supple. I hope that will be sufficient.” This was to Mr. Black, who worried him even more than her ladyship.

“That will be fine, Your Grace,” said Mr. Black. “Miss… Daphne, would you be so kind as to ask the islanders if we may use one of these ceremonial stones as a throne?”

Daphne looked at the scattered god stones. They’d gotten rather unnoticed in the past week.

“Mau, can they —?” she began.

“Yes, they can,” said Mau. “But tell them they don’t work.”

It was, according to the history books, the fastest coronation since Bubric the Saxon crowned himself with a very pointy crown on a hill during a thunderstorm, and reigned for one and a half seconds.

Today, a man sat down. He was handed a golden orb and a golden scepter, which the watching islanders approved of because, when you got right down to it, a scepter was just a shiny club. Mau was happy with his fish spear, but in their hearts the islanders knew that a chief should have a really big club. Later on, some of them had had a go with it, however, and considered it a bit cumbersome for a real fight. They found it far more interesting than the crown, which sparkled in the sunlight but didn’t do anything useful. But because of it, and after a certain amount of talking, a man stood up who ruled so many places on the planet that mapmakers often ran out of red ink.

At this point the men in black produced some small versions of the trouserman flag, raised them enthusiastically, and shouted: “Hurrah.”

“I’d like the crown back now, please, Your Majesty,” said Mr. Black quickly. “I will give you a receipt, of course.”

“Oh, it will all be so much better when we are crowned properly in London,” said Grandmother. “Really this is just for — ”

“You will be silent, woman,” said the king without raising his voice.

For a moment Daphne thought she was the only one to have heard. Grandmother hadn’t, because she still went on talking. And then her ears caught up with her tongue, and couldn’t believe their eyes.

“What did you say?” she managed.

“Ah, you’ve got it right at last, Mother,” said the king. “I’m me, not us. I am I, not we. One pair of buttocks on the throne, one head in the crown. You, on the other hand, are a sharp-tongued harridan with the manners of a fox and don’t interrupt me when I’m talking! How dare you insult our hosts! And before you utter a word, contemplate this: You treasure your elevation above what you call the lower classes, whom I’ve always found to be pretty decent people once they’ve had a chance to have a bath. Well, I am king, you see — king — and the very notion of nobility that you cling to like grim death means that you will not answer me back. You will, however, act with grace and gratitude during the remainder of our stay in this place. Who knows, it may speak to you as it has spoken to me. And if you are even now putting together a scathing remark, let me point out for your lengthy consideration the wonderful and highly advisable option of silence. That is a command!”

The king, breathing a little heavily, nodded to the leader of the Gentlemen of Last Resort.

“That was all right, wasn’t it?” he said to the Gentlemen of Last Resort. Grandmother was simply staring at nothing.

“Of course, sire. You are king, after all,” murmured Mr. Black.

“’Scuse me, miss,” said a voice behind Daphne. “Are you Miss Ermintrude?”

She turned to see who’d spoken. One of the boats had returned and picked up more of the crew, and now she was staring at a small man in badly fitting clothes. They had clearly belonged to someone who had been happy to get rid of them.

“Cookie?”

He beamed. “Told you my coffin’d keep me alive, miss!”

“Papa, this is Cookie, who was a great friend to me on the Judy. Cookie, this is my father. He’s king.”

“That’s nice,” said Cookie.

“Coffin?” said the king, looking bewildered again.

“I told you about him, Papa. Remember? The pockets? The mast and shroud? The tiny inflatable billiard table?”

“Oh, that coffin! My word. How long were you at sea, Mr. Cookie?”

“Two weeks, sir. My little stove ran out after the first week, so I made do with biscuits, mint cake, and plankton until I fetched up on an island,” said the cook.

“Plankton?” said Daphne.

“Strained it through my beard, miss. I thought, well, whales live on it, so why not me?” He reached into his pocket and produced a grubby piece of paper. “Funny little island I landed on, too. Had the name on a brass plate nailed to a tree. I writ it down — look.”

The king and his daughter read, in smudged pencil, Mrs. Ethel J. Bundy’s Birthday Island.

“It really exists!” Daphne yelled.

“Jolly well done,” said the king. “Do tell us all about it over dinner. Now, if you will excuse for me a moment, I have to reign.” King Henry the Ninth rubbed his hands together. “Now, what else… ah, yes. Charlie, do you want to be an archbishop?”

The Rt. Rev. Topleigh, who was packing his bag again, waved his hands wildly, a look of sudden dread on his face. “No, thank you, Henry!”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes, thank you. They’d make me wear shoes. Love it down here among the islands!”

“Ah, then you choose the big sea to a big see,” said the king, in that slow, plummy voice people use when they are committing a really bad pun.

Nobody laughed. Even Daphne, who loved her father very much, could do no better than a sickly grin. Then her father did something that no one, not even a king, should do. He tried to explain. “Perhaps you all didn’t notice the pun or play on words?” he said, sounding a little hurt. “I deliberately confused ‘a big sea,’ that’s with an a, with ‘a big see,’ with two es, meaning the area that comes under the jurisdiction of an archbishop.”

“Technically that would be a province, sir,” said Mr. Black gravely. “Bishops have sees.”

“Although an archbishop is, strictly speaking, bishop of his home see,” said Mr. Red thoughtfully. “That’s why the archbishop of Canterbury is also the bishop of Canterbury. But that would be a small see, and therefore would not work for the purposes of humor.”

“There you have it, Your Majesty,” said Mr. Black, giving the king a happy little smile. “With that small amendment your wonderful pun will be an absolute hoot in ecclesiastical circles.”

“I notice you didn’t laugh, Mr. Black!”

“No, Your Majesty. We are forbidden to laugh at the things kings say, sire, because otherwise we would be at it all day.”

“Well, at least there is one thing I can do,” said the king, walking over to Mau. “Sir, I would be honored if you will join my Empire. Not many people get a choice, I might add.”

“Thank you, King,” said Mau, “but we — ” He stopped, and turned to Pilu for assistance.

“We don’t want to join, Your Sire. It’s too big and we will be swallowed up.”

“Then you will be prey to the first man who arrives with a boat and half a dozen armed men,” said the king. “Apart from me, I mean,” he added quickly.

“Yes, Your King,” said Mau. He saw the ghost girl watching him and thought, well, this is the moment. “That is why we want to join the Royal Society.”

“What?” The king turned to his daughter, who was grinning. “Did you put them up to this, my girl?”

“Papa, this is where science began,” Daphne said quickly, “and I just gave them the words. They did the thinking for themselves. Their ancestors were scientists. You’ve seen the cave! This will work!”

Pilu looked nervously from the king to his daughter and went on: “When the Royal Society was formed, the king gave them a club as full of bigness as his was — ”

“Bigness?” said the king.

“That was Charles the Second, sire,” Mr. Black whispered. “In fact he did indeed say that the society deserved a mace ‘alike in bigness to our own,’ and I suppose we can only be grateful that he didn’t say biggittity.”

“ — which means he thought they were as powerful as kings, and so we humbly, no, proudly ask that we be admitted,” said Pilu, glancing at the ghost girl. “We will welcome all men of science as, er, brothers.”

“Say yes, Papa, say yes!” said Daphne. “Science is international!”

“I can’t speak for the society — ” the king began, but Daphne was ready for this. There was no point in being a princess if you couldn’t interrupt a king.

“Of course you can, Papa. It says Royal Society outside their building, doesn’t it?”

“Your society, Your Majesty,” Mr. Black purred. “And based, of course, in London.”

“And we will give them the golden door,” said Mau.

“What?” said Daphne. She hadn’t expected this bit.

“It’s not going to be shut again,” said Mau emphatically. “It will be a gift to our brothers who sailed so far that they came back.”

“That’s tons of gold!” said the king. “About eight tons at least, I’d say.”

“Very well done, sire,” said Mr. Black. “To the victor the spoils.”

“Except there hasn’t been a war,” said the king. “It’s too much. We can’t take it! They have been kind.”

“I was merely suggesting that the people like it when kings bring valuable things home, sire,” said the Gentleman of Last Resort.

“Like whole countries,” said Daphne, giving him a sharp look.

“But this is meant as a gift, Mr. Black. It is not the spoils of conquest,” said the king.

“Well, that is indeed a happy, if unusual, outcome,” said Mr. Black smoothly.

“And you will give a gift to us, too,” said Mau. “When much is taken, something is returned. Pilu?”

“A big telescope,” said Pilu, “and a boat in sizeness to the Sweet Judy, and ten barrels of salt-pickled beef, and tools of every sizeness. Timber, metals of all kindness, books with pictures and writing inside that is about the pictures….”

It went on for quite some time, and when he had finished, Daphne said, “That’s still pretty cheap, Papa, even with the boat. And remember, the first thing they asked for was a telescope. How can you argue with that?”

The king smiled. “I won’t. Nor will I wonder out loud if anyone helped them with the list. Anyway I rather like ‘metals of all kindness.’ And you are right, of course. Scientists will flock here. And you can keep your door, Mau.”

“No,” said Mau firmly. “It was closed for too long, Your King. I will not let it be shut again. But there is one more request, which is very simple. Every man of science who comes here to see what we once knew must tell us all he knows.”

“Lectures!” Daphne burst out. “Oh, yes!”

“And someone, please, to teach us doctrine,” Mau added.

The bishop, who had been feeling a bit left out by now, brightened up at this point and stepped forward smartly. “If I can help in any way — ” he began, his voice full of hope.

“Doctrine to make us better,” said Mau, giving Daphne an imploring look.

“Yes indeed,” said the bishop. “I feel that — ”

Daphne sighed. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but he means doctoring,” she said.

“Ah, yes,” said the bishop sadly. “Silly me.”

“Mind you, if you’re good at debating, Mau might be interested.” She looked at Mau, who looked at her, and then at the Gentlemen of Last Resort, and then at the king, and then at the Cutty Wren, and then back at her.

And he knows I’m going, she thought. And very soon. I’ll have to. A king’s only child can’t live on an island that’s lost at sea. He could read me like a book, if he read books. He knows. I can see it in his face.

At dawn on the seventh day after the arrival of the Cutty Wren, Captain Samson was ready to set sail again. The ship had already picked up most of the provisions for the return leg in Port Mercia, but eight tons of gold takes a lot of sawing up when you’re determined not to leave behind a single bit of gold dust.

Now the ship waited outside the reef, just visible behind the mists. It looked like a toy, but from the Women’s Place, everything was a matter of perspective.

His Majesty’s schooner had left yesterday, with cheering and waving and a lot less gear, lamp oil, sailcloth, and cutlery than it had when it arrived. The fastest sailing ship in the world was waiting, impatient to fly.

The clearing was more or less deserted at this time of day, but there were a few snores coming from the huts and the occasional gurgle coming from the hut of the lady of the same name. The gardens were silent, listening. And the Place did listen, Daphne was sure of that. It made you listen, because she did, too. It must have even made her grandmother listen: Yesterday Daphne had seen her sitting next to Mrs. Gurgle, who very clearly was a woman of great power, because it looked very much as though her new companion was chewing a lump of salt-pickled beef. Her ladyship hadn’t seen her granddaughter watching, which was probably a good thing for both of them.

Now Daphne looked around at the gardens. “I’ve come to say good-bye,” she said. “And thank you.” She didn’t shout it out. Either the Grandmothers were listening or they weren’t.

She stood and waited. There was no reply but the vegetables’ silence and, in the distance, a pantaloon bird losing the remains of last night’s dinner.

“Well, thank you anyway,” she said, and turned away.

Were they real? she thought. Memory slips away so quickly here. I think it blows out to sea. But I shall remember. And in her head a fading voice said, “Good!” or perhaps she imagined it. Life gets really complicated if you think too much.

The king had invited the carpenter of the Cutty Wren — in the few days he had been there — to help with the new building already begun by the carpenter from his schooner; and soon, because people feel uneasy watching a king work with his sleeves rolled up, both crews had rolled up theirs, too. The rest of the Judy had become another long hut and a big heap of useful things. And, of course, there was the Sweet Judy herself. She had been an unexpected find.

The prow of the ship had hit squarely between two of the giant fig trees and its figurehead had been wedged, unseen and unscathed, while the ship collapsed behind her.

A couple of the sailors had nailed the figurehead over the door, to the approval of all except the king, who wondered aloud if her undressed bosom might be considered unseemly. He hadn’t understood why everyone had laughed, but he had been pleased that they had. It had made up for the Big See.

Now Daphne looked up at her for the last time. There was a faint smile on the wooden lips, and someone had put a garland of flowers around her neck.

Daphne curtsied to her, because if any nonliving thing had earned respect, it had been the Judy. Daphne had been taught to curtsy years ago, and on the island it had been a skill less useful than ice skating, but just this once it was exactly the right thing to do.

A boat waited on the edge of the lagoon. It had been waiting for some time. The crowd had wandered off, because there is only so long you can wave and shout at something that isn’t in any hurry to move, and a certain boredom sets in. In any case, Cahle had tactfully and not so tactfully got the islanders to wander back up to the fields. She knew when people, come to think of it, needed space. Besides, Daphne had said all her good-byes last night, at the big feast, and the king had been the only trouserman there to be given the sunset wave tattoo, and everyone had laughed and cried. The Gentlemen of Last Resort had carried the king back to their ship only a few hours ago, because he was, they said, “a little under the weather,” which is a code meaning “too much beer.”

Now, apart from a dog warming up in the sun, it was as though she had the place to herself, but she would have bet anything that hundreds of eyes were watching her from the fields.

She looked at the beach. There was the waiting boat, and there was Mau, standing where he always did, with his spear. He glanced up as she approached, with the faint half smile he wore when he was uncertain of things.

“Everyone else is on board,” he said.

“I will be back,” Daphne said.

Mau drew squiggles on the sand with the end of his spear. “Yes, I know,” he said.

“No, I really mean it.”

“Yes. I know.”

“You sound as if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you. But you sound as if you don’t.”

Daphne looked down at the sand. “Yes, I know,” she said meekly. “Father’s going to send Grandmother to be our ambassador to the ReUnited States, now that she’s feeling better. She’s worked out that she’ll be able to lord it over all the snooty Bostonians, so she’s trying not to seem pleased. I suppose really she will be ladying it, which is probably worse. And, well, he hasn’t got anyone else… oh, except for lots of courtiers and the government and the people of the Empire, of course, but they won’t know him as himself, d’you see, but just as a face under a crown. Oh, it’s all so wretched. But Father needs me.”

“Yes, he does,” said Mau.

Daphne glared at him. It was stupid to think like this, but she’d wanted him to argue… well, not argue, more like protest… well… not protest, exactly, more like… be disappointed. It’s hard to talk to someone who understands. She gave up and, only then, noticed his arm.

“What happened to you?” she said. “That looks horrible!”

“It’s just bruising. I got tattooed too after the feast last night. Look.”

She looked. On Mau’s left wrist was a little blue hermit crab.

“That’s very good!”

“Milo did it. And on this arm… ” He turned to show her.

“The sunset wave,” said Daphne. “Oh, I’m so glad you decided to have it done at — ”

“Look again, ghost girl,” said Mau, smiling.

“What? Er… oh, the wave is going the wrong way.”

“The right way. It’s the sunrise wave, and we are its children, and we will not go into the dark again. I vow it. It’s a new world. It needs new people. And you are right. Your father is a good man, but he needs you more than… this island does.”

“Well, I think — ”

“He needs your strength,” Mau went on. “I’ve watched you together. You give his world a shape. He will give your poor nation a shape. You must be with him on that ship. You must be by his side. In your heart you know this. You will have a purpose. People will listen.” He took her hand. “I told you Imo made many worlds. I told you that sometimes I think I can see a little way into the world where the wave did not happen. Well, now you will get onto that ship, or… you won’t. Whatever you choose, your choice will mean there are two new worlds. And perhaps sometimes, on the edge of sleep, we will see the shadow of the other world. There will be no unhappy memories.”

“Yes, but — ”

“No more words. We know them all, all the words that should not be said. But you have made my world more perfect.”

Frantically, Daphne sought for something to reply, and came up with: “The bandage on Mrs. Whi-ara’s leg should come off tomorrow. Er, I still don’t like the look of Caah-a’s hand; the Wren’s surgeon said he thought it was getting better, but it’s worth waking up Mrs. Gurgle to have a look at it. Oh, and don’t let her fool you — she can’t chew meat with those gold teeth, so someone else needs to do it, and… I’m getting this wrong, aren’t I…?”

Mau laughed. “How can that be wrong?” He kissed her on the cheek, a little clumsily, and went on: “And now we both walk away, without regrets, and when we meet again, it will be as old friends.”

Daphne nodded and blew her nose on her last good handkerchief.

And the ship sailed away.

And Mau went fishing. He owed a fish to Nawi.