Emilie & the Hollow World - By Martha Wells Page 0,2

She clung to one and looked back at the Merry Bell, and was startled to see its decks lit by a dozen or more lamps, with crewmembers running back and forth to gather near the gangplank. She groaned to herself. Running away and then jumping dramatically off the pier probably hadn't helped convince them she wasn't a mail-thief-pirate-robber, but she couldn't tell them the truth, either. She had no idea what they did to stowaways. It probably isn't as bad as what they do to pirates, she thought.

This plan was turning into a disaster, and it was all her own fault. The Merry Bell, as disturbed as a trodden-on anthill, was out. She would have to look for another day steamer, or wait until the coastal ferry returned late tomorrow and try to sneak aboard it. In the meantime, she needed a place to hide until they grew tired of looking for her, and convinced themselves there was no gang of robbers ready to descend on them.

She should be better at this. Her mother had been a runaway too, and Emilie had never been allowed to forget it. Obviously it didn't run in the blood. Uncle Yeric would be so surprised. She paddled to the end of the pier, trying not to splash too much, and looked for another ship.

There was one two piers over, the decks lit by several lamps. Her teeth already chattering, she paddled toward it for a better look.

It was large, made of flashy bright coppery metal, but shaped like a round, top-heavy tub. Its hull was bulbous, and widened out to support platforms along the main deck. There were four decks, and it had three smokestacks, but they were set side by side across the width of the ship. There were no windows on the upper decks and few doors, though there was an open promenade. Some of the windows were lit, and she saw two men walking along the third deck, just turning into an open hatch. There was no gangplank down, and as she drew closer she saw the ship wasn't tied up to the pier, it was standing at anchor a short distance from it. The name on the bow was the Sovereign.

Emilie threw a look back at the dock. More men were gathering with lamps, agitated shadows searching the crates and barrel stacks, darting into every corner. Swearing to herself, Emilie swam toward the other ship.

She had to swim out and around the bow, to get to the side facing away from the lighted pier. I can't do this much longer, she thought. If there was no way to climb up to the deck, she was going to have to find a piling to cling to. The cold water sapped her strength, and she didn't think she could swim anywhere else after this, not without a rest.

But, for once, the first time in three days, luck was with her.

The ship had a cradle for a launch or lifeboat that had been lowered down the side, and sat just above the water. The boat was gone; someone must have taken it to go to shore. The cradle had a small platform with a ladder leading up the side to an open gate in the railing.

Emilie didn't know how exhausted she was until she tried to climb up onto the platform. Her soaked clothes weighed twice as much as she did, at least, and her arms ached with the strain by the time she dragged herself onto the narrow metal shelf. She lay there for a while, breathing hard and dripping, rivulets of water running away across the platform. But it was warmer out of the water than it was in.

After a time her breathing returned to normal, and the metal platform began to feel cold and very uncomfortable. She sat up and started to wring out her clothes as best she could. Listening hard, she could still hear muted commotion from the docks, but she had a refuge for the moment, and that was all that mattered. She could stay here until the men on the dock stopped looking for her, then swim back to shore.

She heard the putt-putt-putt of a small boat motor. “Oh, no,” Emilie muttered weakly. Out of the kettle, into the coals. What were the chances that it was this ship's launch, returning? After the events of the past night, she thought the chances were rather good.

She had had time to rest and to let several pounds of