Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15
LucasArts Fiction

CHAPTER 9: THE DISCOVERY

The next day Dad made good on his word. Wendy wasn't interested, so it was just me and Peepers, following Dad into his room.
There was a trapdoor in the floor. I hadn't seen that before. Dad lifted it up, and we climbed down a ladder to a narrow dark passageway that curved slightly.
There were several doors on our right. The first one we passed was open. Inside was a small space, taken up by a huge metal wheel on which was coiled a long metal chain. The chain ran off the wheel, and out a tiny window that looked out on the open air. I realised what it was pretty quickly - out there, on the end of the chain must be the anchor.
The next door was padlocked. Dad took a rusty key and opened the padlock. The door swung open.
It was another small space, and another tiny window in the wood. Pointed directly at this window was a cannon. Stacked along the walls were cannonballs, and tiny kegs of gunpowder.
I came into the room, marvelling at all this. Wow. A cannon. "How does it work?" I asked Dad.
He told me. "They put a small amount of gunpowder into the barrel of the cannon, like so..." He pulled the cannon back from the window - it was mounted on a wheeled frame - then tilted the barrel up. He mimed tipping a bit of gunpowder inside. "Then they put in the cannon ball." Dad picked up a cannonball, and gave it to me. I nearly dropped it. It was heavier than a bowling ball! And only half the size. I was pretty glad to let Dad take it back. He tilted the cannon back down and pushed it forward again.
"Then they light the fuse," said Dad. There was a short length of string on the butt end of the cannon, which he pointed to. "The flame goes down the fuse, into the barrel of the cannon, and ignites the gunpowder, which explodes. The cannon gets hurled out of the barrel, and strikes the enemy!"
I was very impressed. And when we got up on deck, Wendy greeted us with the news that we were now inside her zone of possible discovery.
I think Dad won the race to get to the crow's nest. He took first watch, and from then on we rotated, in two hour shifts. With straining eyes, we scanned the horizon all day long, but there was nothing.
The next day, however, there were clouds on the horizon, and a faint wind. We sailed on with new hope.
At noon came the first positive sign. The faint squawking sound of a sea gull. We searched the horizon more intently than ever, but still nothing. That night we all went to bed a bit frustrated.
The next morning dawned. I was first up. Before even having breakfast, I was climbing the mast, pulling myself into the crow's nest. I hadn't even sat down before I stood up again.
To our left, not far away, was a single solitary island. It had yellow beaches and a thick jungle, and mountains rose in the interior. Were we the first people to see this island? Was I the first person in history to gaze upon it?
"LAND HO!" I shouted.
I've always wanted to do that.
Dad and Wendy were up on deck in a flash. I pointed in the direction of the island. Dad looked with the telescope. I saw him jump up and down, then give it Wendy. She looked, then pumped one fist in the air.
I ran down the ladder as fast as I could. We joined hands and danced a jig on the deck of the Que Sera. Discovery!
Eventually we calmed down enough to make plans.
First we had to reach the island. Dad and I sprang to our tasks with new vigour, steering the ship landward with consummate skill. Wendy sat on the deck, noting direction with her sextant and making copious notes.
The island grew larger and larger. There was no need to be worried about reefs, as Wendy assured me 'the composition of the island precludes there being any'. I think that means no reefs.
Before noon had come we were close enough to the island for Dad to go below deck and drop the anchor. Looking down from the yardarm, I could crawl directly over the ocean. Through the shallow waters, I could see the pale yellow of the ocean floor. It was studded with rocks, polyps, anemones, and all sorts of underwater life.
Then the ship shuddered as the anchor struck the ocean floor and I flailed around, nearly losing my balance and falling into the ocean. I didn't want to leave the ship just yet.
We all gathered on deck. Dad had brought up several backpacks, which he told us contained water, food, compasses, hats, rope, and all sorts of essentials.
"What should we call the island?" said Dad, looking at its shadowy interior. "It has to have a name."
"How about Peepers Island?" I suggested.
"Don't be silly," said Wendy. "We should call it Wendy Island."
"Wendy Island?!"
"I think we should call it Que Sera," said Dad.
We both agreed.
Dad went to the side of the ship. The Que Sera had just one lifeboat, a small rowboat that could probably fit eight people at a stretch. Dad lowered it down to the sea. We climbed down the rope ladder to the boat, Wendy first, followed by me and finally Dad.
I picked up an oar. Dad picked up an oar.
We started to row.