alarm.
In any event, for once Silva wasn’t already fully awake before everyone else. The others had endured a long, tense, “unmedicated” night that hadn’t been entertaining in any way, and all except Rebecca Anne McDonald were still asleep after their ordeal, snoring under this momentous, utterly changed dawn.
“Mr. Silva,” Rebecca whispered, again prodding him disapprovingly with her toe. “Do wake up; something is eating our ropes.” She’d barely slept at all, staring down, trying to see what was happening during the seemingly endless, terrifying night. Long after the roar had passed, but before the meager light revealed a dark, diminutive shape near the falls, she’d heard gnawing sounds coming from the aft tackle.
“Mr. Silva!”
Dennis’s good eye popped open, and seeing Rebecca in the gloom, he immediately groped for his eyepatch. Oddly, despite his bizarre behavior in most respects, he didn’t like it when his “little sister” saw the gnarled, sunken socket where his left eye had been. His next priority was Truelove’s long-barreled pistol tucked in his rope belt.
“Umm?” he demanded groggily.
“The aft tackle. The falls.”
“What’s wrong with ’em?” he managed thickly.
Rebecca sighed exasperatedly. “Something is there, chewing on them!”
Silva twisted to look. “I’ll be… derned. You’re right!” He squinted. “Silly bastard’s gonna drop us on the water-I mean the ground! Hey, there, you little freak!” he growled menacingly, “get away from there, or I’ll blow your goddamn head off!” With his left hand, he pitched the empty rum bottle at the thing.
“Goddamn! Goddamn!” shrieked the creature, dodging the bottle and scampering up into the lower branches above.
“It spoke!” Rebecca exclaimed, shocked.
“Yeah,” Silva admitted, trying to draw a bead on the ill-defined shape above. “Sounds kinda like a parrot, don’t he? You know parrots?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Rebecca admitted. “The Founders carried some and they have quite devastated the indigenous songbird populations of New Britain. Horrid, obnoxious creatures!”
“Well, let’s see if they can be ate,” Silva murmured.
“Don’t you dare!” Rebecca objected. “It may be more than a strange parrot! What if it’s like Lawrence?”
“Not like Lawrence,” the Tagranesi proclaimed disgustedly, awakening to the voices and quickly grasping the situation. There was little trace of sleep in his voice. “They are annoying ’ests, and they can ’e ate. Tasty too.”
“Well, then!” Dennis said, aiming at the dark shape more carefully. Over the last few days, they’d supplemented their rations with various arboreal denizens. It often sparked a race between them (usually Lelaa on a rope) and their native “neighbors” to retrieve the fallen creatures, and of course if any shiksaks were nearby, they didn’t want to draw their attention by leaving food beneath the boat. There was nothing they could do about their waste, and that was bad enough. Shooting and eating their “neighbors” was a diversion from the monotony of their situation if nothing else, and it kept them from digging too deeply into their increasingly limited supplies.
“No!” Rebecca exclaimed, glancing darkly at Lawrence.
“No! No! Goddamn!” came a shrill, indignant cry from above.
Silva shrugged. “Well, whatever the little bugger is, he talks as good as you, Larry.” He looked at Rebecca. “He’s gotta leave off chewin’ on our rope, though.”
The others in the suspended boat began to stir.
“What’s happening?” Sandra asked. “Is it over?”
Despite her bedraggled state, Silva couldn’t suppress a thrill at the sight of her pretty, morning face. He physically shook himself. Damn! He told himself. Don’T even Think like That! It was hard not to after all this time. He’d even occasionally caught himself looking speculatively at Sister Audry. She was a damn fine-looking gal, after all. Such a waste… He shook himself again.
“ ERRRrrrrrr! ”
“What?”
“Oh, nothin’. What do you mean, ‘is it over’?” He shook his still groggy head, deciding to answer Sandra’s first question before pondering the second. “The squirt wants a new pet. The bloom’s wore off poor Larry, I guess.”
“That’s not true!” Rebecca scolded. “And Lawrence is not a pet!”
“What is a pet?” Lelaa asked.
“A dog,” Lawrence said, a little wistfully.
“Pets ain’t all dogs,” Silva retorted, “but dogs can be pets. A pet’s just about any critter that likes it when you pet ’em on the head.”
“My God, Mr. Silva, you are a philosopher!” Sandra exclaimed, still muzzy herself.
“Yep. All I need’s a Navy-issue Greek suit.”
“Hand me a piece of biscuit, if you please,” Rebecca demanded. Half asleep, Rajendra grumpily fished in a canvas bag and produced a mildewed cracker. Snatching it away, Rebecca held it up to the creature, near the falls. “Here you are, little fellow!” she entreated. “Won’t you come down and eat? Show yourself! That’s a good little creature!” Tentatively, perhaps coaxed by her pleasant voice or the smell of food, the little vandal eased back out of the shadows.
“Why, it looks like an archaeopteryx!” gushed Abel Cook. The young midshipman/naturalist-in-training had improved considerably over the last few days. He was still weak, and like them all, literally covered with mosquito bites, but the lightly feathered creature sniffing its way skeptically down the falls had stirred his interest. It wasn’t much bigger than a cat, with a long neck and a toothy head just like any other lizard bird they’d seen, but its abbreviated wings and long, feather-vaned tail looked more suited to gliding than flying. Silva chuckled as the light improved because the thing was colored predominantly greenish blue and yellow. The creature retreated at the sound, hissing at Silva with an open mouth full of small, razorlike teeth.
“Sure looks like one o’ your relations, Larry,” Silva prodded.
Lawrence hissed at him too. Rebecca gave them both withering stares.
“Come on, little fellow!” Rebecca cajoled again. “Wouldn’t you like something to eat?”
“Eat?”
“Yes!” Rebecca teased it with the cracker. “Eat!”
“Eat!” the creature mimicked doubtfully.
“Yes, eat!”
Quick as a shot, the little thing raced down the falls, snatched the cracker, then disappeared again in the canopy above. Rebecca checked her fingers to make sure they were all there while Silva laughed. A moment later, they heard another querulous cry from above.
“Eat?”
It was immediately echoed by others. “Eat? Eat? Eat!”
“Uh-oh, now look what you’ve done!” Silva said, turning serious. In a blurry streak, what looked like the first creature bolted down the falls and bounded around the boat shrieking, “Eat! Eat! Eat!”
It bounced off Dennis’s leg and dug in its claws-which hurt-but it wasn’t even as heavy as it looked. Lawrence took a swipe at it with his sword, but it was just too fast.
“Well… give it something to eat!” Rebecca commanded. The entire canopy above was beginning to thrum with the chant “Eat! Eat! Eat!”
“You feed that thing, it’ll never leave!” objected Silva. “Them other bastards’ll be down in a instant and eat us too!”
“Feed it!” Rebecca ordered, and Rajendra obeyed, tossing another biscuit at the creature.
“No!” Sandra almost shouted. Dennis was right, she thought, but it was too late. Seizing the morsel, the creature stuffed it in its mouth, showering crumbs in all directions. Lawrence was trying to get close enough to take another swipe with his sword when another, similar creature swooped down into the boat and defiantly demanded, “Eat!” To their amazement, the first one launched itself at the second, spewing crumbs and shrieking, “Eat! Goddamn!” It struck the stationary “intruder” like a bullet and, as quickly as that, in a shower of feathers and blood, the intruder was dead. Frizzed out now, its meager plumage standing on end, the first creature scampered back up the falls almost to the limbs above and spread its long arms, feathery, membranous wings taut. With formidable claws bared at the ends of long fingers, and its neck stretched out, teeth exposed, it gobbled thunderously like a
