Free The Unmapped Sea by Maryrose Wood Page B

“Look, Lumawoo! The sea is alive!” One can hardly blame her for thinking so, for the sea never stopped moving. The waves rolled with a slow and ceaseless undulation, like an enormous carpet being shaken out by tireless giants. Beyond the breakers, the cresting swells rose and disappeared. The wind scurried gray clouds across a pale blue sky, and the cloud-cast shadows moved across the water. Where the sun broke through, the rolling swells glittered in the light, as if someone had scattered fistfuls of tiny diamonds across the water’s surface.
    Alexander’s mouth fell open. “Behold the vasty deep,” he intoned. “Is there anything more—more . . . sealike than the sea?”
    â€œPerhaps the greatest of the earth’s mountains would come close,” Penelope said with reverence, for she, too, was awestruck. “Perhaps the Swiss Alps would feel nearly as vast, if one stood at the bottom looking up.”
    â€œIt is so beautiful. So mysterious.” Whatever vagueambitions Alexander might have had to be a navigator were given form and purpose that moment. His destiny was written in the waves, as if the sea’s froth were the tea leaves in the bottom of a soothsayer’s teacup.
    â€œThe sea is nice,” Cassiopeia said, not nearly as impressed. “But the moon is more beautiful and mysterious.”
    â€œI think paintings are the most beautiful and mysterious,” Beowulf said firmly. “Paintings and poems.”
    â€œIt is a remarkable world, that has the sea and the moon and art, and spring flowers, new babies, and tasty biscuits, too,” Penelope interjected, to keep peace among them. “We are lucky to live in it! But remember what Mrs. Clarke said: We must take deep breaths. Breathe in as much as you can, children.” She demonstrated, inhaling so deeply that it felt like the salt air filled her to the bottoms of her feet.
    (Nowadays, medical science has all kinds of ways to make sick people well, and to prevent well people from getting sick in the first place. But in Miss Penelope Lumley’s day, it was widely believed that fresh air itself had medicinal properties. The sick were routinely sent to take deep breaths at seaside resorts, where they might also enjoy mud baths, saunas, natural hot springs, medicinal tar pits, and the like, all of which, itwas hoped, would restore them to good health.)
    The children did as they were told, drawing the cold salt air all the way in and then blowing it out again. “How invigorating!” she declared. “Now let us go near the water and gather some shells.” Penelope headed for the stair that led down from the promenade to the pebbly beach below. The children hesitated.
    â€œI still smell bears,” Beowulf insisted. The other two were not as certain, but agreed there was a whiff of something peculiar in the air.
    Penelope knew from experience that the children’s sense of smell was far keener than her own. There was nothing magical about it; they had simply been trained from an early age to use their noses the way a wolf might. Years of practice had made them good at it, just as years of practicing the violin would give someone the ability to play beautiful music, whereas someone new to the instrument might manage only a tuneless shriek. But sea bears? That was clearly impossible. In any case, Penelope was so eager to gather her first seashell that she could not wait another minute.
    â€œNever fear, my dear Incorrigibles. I shall go in front.” Confidently she marched down the stairs and took her first thrilling steps onto the sand. “Even in January, it is too warm for walruses in Brighton. Theyprefer Arctic regions, not English seaside resorts, and I believe they are peaceful creatures in any case. This way, please!”
    Warily at first, the children followed. The beach was empty, save for the shrill-voiced gulls wheeling overhead and whatever snails and hermit crabs