Free Drowned Wednesday by Garth Nix Page B

bleeding but I have to help the Doctor if there’s anyone really seriously wounded.’
    ‘Is it safe to stand up?’ asked Arthur. He didn’t want to even guess what really seriously wounded might mean.
    Ichabod looked around.
    ‘I trust that is the case,’ he replied. ‘We have made it clear through the Transfer Portal. The sea here is quite placid, at least at present.’
    Arthur climbed wearily to his feet, grimacing as pain shot through his leg. When that subsided a little, he looked around. Sunscorch was giving orders, but not very loudly. Denizens were climbing back up the rigging and the ones that hadn’t fallen off were already inching their way out across the yards, getting ready to furl the sails.
    It all looked surprisingly calm, until a Denizen stuck his head out of a forward hatch and shouted, ‘Mister Sunscorch! She’s cracked a dozen strakes or more! There’s four foot of water in the well!’
    Arthur looked at Ichabod.
    ‘I believe that means we are sinking,’ Ichabod said calmly. ‘Doubtless we shall hear more in a moment. Allow me to remove some flecks of wood from your coat.’
    Without waiting for permission, Ichabod started to remove tiny pieces of wood from Arthur’s shoulders, reminding the boy how easily they could have been larger splinters that would have killed him.
    He had to get out of the way as Sunscorch ran back to the quarterdeck, jumping halfway up the steps. There was a confused milling about going on around the wheel. As far as Arthur could tell, Doctor Scamandros was barely conscious, but he had all the maps. They needed the maps to work out what to do before the ship sank, which was going to happen within the next thirty minutes at the rate they were taking in water through the cracked hull.
    Though Captain Catapillow and First Mate Concort were both there, once again it was Sunscorch who really took charge.
    ‘I’m guessing you’ll want us to beach her dead ahead on Counter-Crab Beach, Captain?’ Sunscorch asked, quite calmly. He pointed at Forlorn Island, which was only a mile or so away. ‘I’ve been here before, more than once. Good deep sand, quite steep. Once we’re aground we can warp her about and careen her.’
    ‘Um, yes, very good, carry on, Mister Sunscorch,’ said Catapillow. ‘I’m just going to . . . ah . . . see to the situation belowdecks. Counter-Crab Beach, eh? Excellent. Excellent. Mister Concort, I believe we may leave the ship to Mister Sunscorch.’
    ‘Pardon?’ asked Concort. The back of his coat was peppered with many holes, some of them stained with his own blue blood. ‘Aye, aye, sir.’
    They both left the quarterdeck, trooping down past Arthur and Ichabod. Neither looked at the boy and they seemed in a hurry to get back to the Captain’s cabin. Catapillow was muttering something about humidity, gum Arabic, and perforated edges.
    ‘Exciting times,’ said Ichabod. ‘We don’t normally have these sorts of goings-on going on. Not for a hundred years or more, we haven’t. Come on.’
    ‘Can’t we stay on deck?’ asked Arthur as they walked away. He was still feeling very shaky after the shock of the cannon blast and, as he had expected, was already having a little trouble breathing now they had left the House. He also had little inclination to see the ‘really seriously wounded’ and had a strong inclination to stay out in the open air. If he went below he thought he might throw up from reaction to shock. He needed fresh air and distraction.
    ‘I suppose we might,’ said Ichabod. ‘The Captain and Mister Concort will be checking over the collection. They won’t notice anything else. And Doctor Scamandros will call if he needs me. We shall ask permission to join Mister Sunscorch on the quarterdeck.’
    Ichabod called up, and after a moment Sunscorch nodded and waved them both up. The original two helmsmen had gone below to have their wounds treated, accompanied by Doctor Scamandros. They had been replaced by two of the