Page 109 of Valour

Hester crossed her fingers behind her back once more and nodded, eyes cast down.

35

IN WHICH THERE IS TRUST IN THE CAPTAIN, AND MORTAL PERIL

19th April 1916, Elephant Island

Elephant Island was a grey and barren place. Desolate and miserable.

Hester sat on a boulder with Fliss, looking out over the roiling sea. They had been forced to sail along the coast soon after arriving four days ago, after they had discovered the tide would cover the stony beach. However, the current site of their camp seemed safe enough, and as luck would have it, was right next to a penguin rookery. The greasy, fishy taste coated her tongue long after eating the wretched birds.

Behind her, the tents were set, and one of the lifeboats had been turned upside down to provide shelter when one of the tents had been torn to shreds by the gusting wind.

Hester had spent a lot of time alone over the past few days, mulling over her plans. Elephant Island was over eight hundred miles away from South Georgia, the nearest civilisation. It was a shot in the dark, a journey so dangerous that no sane person would even think to attempt it. Eight hundred miles in a tiny lifeboat, in the most unforgiving ocean on the planet, and she could not use her magic for fear of attracting Orcus.

But she couldn’t sit here and wait to die.

She had to go.

And leave Septimus behind.

“My plan,” Hester said, “is to take Winston and Peggy with me. We’ll leave before everyone gets up, in five days’ time, when we are sufficiently recovered to make another crossing.”

Fliss narrowed her eyes. “He won’t agree. He’ll never agree to staying here.”

She knew that. Knew it all too well. “I can’t allow him to come. He makes me feel things too strongly. He always has. My magic spills out, and Orcus will find us. I won’t risk it.”

“He would go in your place though, in a heartbeat. You needn’t make the journey. It doesn’t have to fall on your shoulders.”

“I brought us all down here. It is my responsibility, my task to get us home. You cannot talk me out of it, old friend.” Hester rested her head on Fliss’s shoulder.

Fliss sighed. “You’re as stubborn as a mule.”

“Oh, I could just eat a mule.”

“You’re being daft. Don’t change the subject.”

“If we don’t return with help in a month, Septimus should set out for South Georgia. I’m leaving you and Charlotte in charge.”

Fliss rested her head on Hester’s. “He’s going to completely lose it when he realises what you’ve done. You do know that?”

Of course she knew. She wanted to laugh, wanted it all to be a light-hearted joke, but she grimaced instead. “I know.” She wondered if he’d forgive her. Even if he didn’t, it would be worth it, to keep him safe.

“I want it noted that I disagreed with you,” Fliss said.

“It will be duly noted.” Hester cracked a smile. “I’ll leave him a letter.”

“Good God. Do you think he’ll forgive you?”

“I’ll have to write a very good letter. And make it back alive.”

“Eight hundred miles across the Southern Ocean, in a puny lifeboat?”

Fliss was right. The odds were extremely slim. “Winston is making her more ocean-worthy.”

Fliss clutched her hand, tears in her eyes. “But the chances of it—of making it to South Georgia—it is akin to finding a needle in a haystack. And if you miss…”

“If we miss, it will mean death. But it’s the only way to get help. The only shot we have. I trust Peggy to navigate us there.”