Free The Unmapped Sea by Maryrose Wood Page A

care of the Theatrical Firmament’ . . . let me check.” He consulted a chart on the desk, and looked at her apologetically. “I regret to inform you that firmaments require an extra half day. That means your correspondence will arrive in the Friday four o’clock post. Guaranteed!” He tossed the letter in a great bin full of outgoing letters, and went on to help the next customer.
    How staunch and unflappable were the employees of the postal service! And how simple yet inspired was Penelope’s scheme! Frankly, she was amazed she had not thought of it before. “By means of a bit of stagecraft and costuming, we shall convince Great-Uncle Pudge that Simon is the admiral! Simon is a man of the theater, after all; I expect he will relish the chance to give such a performance.” Really, the only flaw in her plan was that she would not be attempting the impersonation herself, “although it would be amusing to try,” she thought. She took a few steps in a swaggering pirate gait to get the feel of it. “But I do not knowhow keen Great-Uncle Pudge’s eyesight might yet be. Best to be on the safe side. Simon in no way resembles the men of the Ashton line, but between the two of us, he comes far closer.”
    That her letter would be delivered in Friday afternoon’s post also struck her as encouraging. “The sooner Great-Uncle Pudge reveals the words of the curse, the sooner we can put all this mystery and danger behind us. Once the curse is gone, Edward Ashton will no longer have to scheme and plot against us to be rid of it—although why he thinks the children and I are mixed up in his family curse is anyone’s guess.”
    Optimistic—or was it optoomuchstic?—as ever, Penelope’s step grew so light it nearly turned into a skip. She doubted she and Edward Ashton would ever be friends, of course, but if her plan worked—and why wouldn’t it?—at least she would rid herself and the Incorrigible children of an enemy. “And who knows?” she thought. “With the exact words of the curse in hand, Madame Ionesco could make short work of the whole business. With any luck at all, Tuesday’s full moon could be the farewell performance of the curse upon the Ashtons!”
    Once outside the post office, Alexander consulted his compass, adjusted his sextant, and made carefulnote of the speed and direction of the wind. Thus prepared, they were off. The air was cold with an unsteady breeze. Moments of calm were broken by gusts of wind so strong the four travelers could lean into them, arms spread wide like the crossbars of kites, and imagine they were airborne.
    The children found the brisk weather energizing (as you might expect, three children who had been raised by wolves were not easily put off by the elements). Penelope wrapped her coat tightly around her, but she did not complain. It was not the Swanburne way to grumble about things that couldn’t be helped, and the weather certainly fit into that category—a fact that remains true to this very day.
    The houses they passed were modest and tidy. Many had whimsical names displayed on painted signs in their front gardens: THE HAPPY CLAM and THE SALTY SHORES and so on. There was even a house named GIDDY-YAP , SEAHORSE , which made Penelope clap her half-frozen hands in delight. At once the children insisted on having a seahorse race. They did this by galloping to the corner while holding their noses as if underwater. They were gasping for air by the time it was over, and Penelope quickly declared all three of them winners, for at least they had managed not to pass out.
    In this pleasant way, Penelope and the children found so much entertainment on their walk that it came as a shock when they turned yet another corner to find, not more charming houses and shuttered storefronts, but a wide, wooden-planked promenade, beyond which lay—the sea!
    Cassiopeia pointed and yelled.