Free The Navigator by Eoin McNamee

ashore.” His face was white with fear.
    But then a strange thing happened. Owen became aware of a great shrieking. The water around the delicate vessel was covered with the fish that had been thrown overboard and seabirds were converging on the unexpectedmeal, thousands of them—herring gulls, black-headed gulls, black cormorants. Within a minute there were so many gulls that Owen could barely see the boat. The spindly aircraft were buffeted in the air by the beating wings of so many birds, and then they too became invisible. More and more gulls blanketed the ocean. Owen could not see the boat, but it appeared that it was still under attack. There were flashes of blue from within the swirling flock and there were dead seabirds among the thousands that squabbled for the floating fish.

    Minutes passed and then a great cheer went up from the anxious children onshore. On the very edge of the flock of seabirds, the prow and then the rest of the boat emerged. There were children standing on its deck, some of them sitting along its rail. Many of them were very young, pale and frightened, but the tall, freckled girl at the tiller looked defiant.
    The oars beating slowly, the boat swung in against the quay and the girl leapt lightly onto it. Wesley went over to her. Owen followed, hanging back a little. He could see the long scar running down the side of the boat.
    “They near got us,” the freckled girl said.
    “Birds saved your hide,” said Wesley.
    “That was a good idea, throwing out the fish,” Owen said. The girl looked at him curiously.
    “That him?” she said to Wesley. Wesley nodded. The girl stuck out a hand. Her eyes were a curious greenishcolor and she was wearing oily overalls. “Silkie's my name, and I only threw out the fish for to save weight. I never thought about the birds.”
    “Is she broke?” Wesley said, looking anxiously at the boat.
    “She's all right,” Silkie said. “She has a bit of a burn on her, but she’ll sail again. The little ones is scared, though- Them Planemen was never that brave before; they come pretty close.”
    “I do think the Harsh is stronger this time and they do push Johnston harder.”
    “Johnston?” Owen said. “The man who has the scrapyard? I was playing there once and he chased me with dogs.”
    “It's a good thing he chased you with nothing worse,” Wesley said. “Johnston is a terrible cruel man.”
    “A man, though,” Owen said. “Not one of the … the Harsh?”
    “No,” said Silkie. “You know the way that the Sub-Commandant is the Watcher, staying awake through the years until the Harsh return and it is time to wake the others to fight?”
    “I think so,” Owen said.
    “Well, Johnston is a Watcher too, except that he watches for the Harsh and makes sure that all is ready for their return.”
    “His own men sleep in their Starry and he wakes them for the Harsh,” Wesley said. “The Planemen you seen attacking—they’re his men.”
    “I’m starving,” Silkie said.
    “You’re always starving,” said Wesley with a grin, “but you do deserve something to eat for the fright you got from them Planemen. Come on.”
    Wesley led them into the nearest of the buildings. The ground floor was completely open with a big hearth at one end where a fire of driftwood crackled, a sweet smell of burning wood drifting through the room. A long table with benches on either side stood in the middle. There were children everywhere, all of them dressed poorly. Some of the smaller ones walked straight up to Owen and stared at him with large solemn eyes. The older ones climbed quickly up and down the ladder that led upstairs, or perched in the high windowsills.
    Despite all the young people milling about, Owen could see that there was a sense of order. The table was being set with flat wooden plates and food was being carried in. Within minutes all the Raggies had seated themselves round the table and the older ones were serving food. Owen was put at the top of