‘Finchin’s gone to get him.’
Marina opened her eyes. What did she see? Clouds billowing above. Two shocked faces bent over her. Brown and Perkins looked so comical that she started to laugh.
Paddy nudged her face with his nose and then licked it with his rough, cool tongue.
‘Out of my way, man.’ The Commander pulled Perkins back by the shoulder. His face was drawn and white. Marina felt very sorry that her father looked so anxious, so scared.
She felt his arms beneath her shoulder blades and legs. She was lifted up, and felt the water running out of her oilskins. Her father walked smartly towards his quarters. Finchin, just ahead of him, opened the door and stepped aside as Marina was carried in. It was all as quick and smooth as if it had been rehearsed many times.
‘Blankets!’ her father called. ‘And a hot kettle. She’ll need something warm to drink. And dry clothes, too.’ He pulled off her boot and seawater belched on to the floor.
‘We might need a mop,’ Marina said.
But her father seemed unable to speak to her. He pulled off her oilskins, wrapped her in blankets, and then took her hands in his palms and rubbed them vigorously. Only once he was sure that her hands were quite warm could he bring himself to speak.
‘How did this happen?’ he said. ‘What were you thinking?’
Finchin returned with more blankets and an enamel mug, which he handed to Marina. Steam rose up. The smell made her wrinkle her nose. ‘Drink it,’ he said, sounding stern instead of his usual affable self. ‘It’s an order.’
Marina took a tentative sip. ‘Urgh. It makes my throat burn,’ she spluttered.
Her father stared at her. ‘Are you cold? Is anything broken?’
‘I bashed my elbow,’ Marina answered. ‘And my leg.’ Her shoulder was what really hurt, but she didn’t want to worry him.
‘Finchin? Get Brown and Perkins in here!’
‘They had nothing to do with this, Fath—’
‘Not another word,’ the Commander warned.
The men were fetched. They looked awkward, downcast, fidgeting in the doorway. They couldn’t give an easy account of how their Commander’s only child had ended up in the sea.
‘One minute she was on deck—’ Perkins started.
‘And then she was up on the winch,’ Brown interrupted. ‘No warning. Nothing. I couldn’t believe my eyes. And she’s just reaching out for that blooming bird. My heart was in my mouth, Commander. I couldn’t speak nor anything. She gave me such a fright.’
‘But we got the nets out real quick when she fell in,’ Perkins said.
‘We could see her the whole time she was under the water,’ Brown chipped in. ‘Her eyes were open. Staring at us.’
‘We caught her in the net. Like a fish.’
‘All right. All right.’ The Commander rubbed his brow. When he spoke again, his voice was less harsh. ‘Thank you, men. I’m grateful to you. Your quick thinking and quick actions saved my daughter’s life.’
‘It’s no trouble, Commander. No sailor likes to see one of his own overboard,’ Brown croaked.
‘We’re just pleased she’s still breathing,’ Perkins said, peering intently at Marina.
The Commander dismissed them and they shuffled off, although Perkins could not resist one last, puzzled look at Marina.
‘What were you thinking?’ Her father tucked a wet tendril of hair behind her ear. ‘Although I’d wager you weren’t thinking at all. You’re so—’
‘Impulsive. I know. Edward told me.’
‘When I heard you’d gone overboard, I thought . . .’ He clutched her to him. She winced in pain but bit her lip rather than cry out. ‘After everything I’ve done over the years to keep you safe. To lose you to the sea would be unbearable,’ he whispered in her ear.
A knock on the open door. Finchin had returned.
He looked grave. ‘You gave us quite a scare, Marina. But I’m glad to see no harm’s been done. That sea is pretty cold. You must be a lot sturdier than we gave you credit for.’
‘I don’t feel the cold,’ Marina said, taking another sip of the fiery drink. ‘I’m tough as old boots.’
‘That you are,’ Finchin replied, a smile flickering on his lips. ‘Although a little headstrong.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Chip off the old block, if you don’t mind my saying, sir.’
‘I do mind.’
Finchin cleared his throat and held up a limp, feathered shape. ‘Sir . . . I found this on deck. The seabird that gave Perkins such a fright. It was in the net. With Marina.’
‘I didn’t let it go!’ Marina cried. ‘I had him so tight by the wing I thought he’d pull my arm off.’ The hot brandy had loosened her tongue, and her wits, too, if the expressions on her father’s and Finchin’s face were anything to go by.
‘Get rid of the thing, Finchin. Why do I want a dead bird on my ship? Especially if Perkins is going to get into one of his funny moods.’
‘Well, that’s just the thing, sir. It isn’t a bird.’
He handed the mass of feathers to the Commander.
The neck looked as if it were broken, and indeed the head came away from the body as the men exchanged the strange catch.
‘What the—’
‘Exactly, sir.’
‘What is it?’
‘It looks as if it’s some sort of airborne signals device, sir. It’s done up to look like a bird, but if you peel the feathers back – they’re sewn on to a leather skin – you’ll see a box inside the cavity. You can still hear it whirring. The seawater hasn’t affected it. You can clearly see the stamp of the factory where it was made.’
The Commander peered into the bird’s body. ‘Ah.’
‘Exactly. The Mordavian Telegraph Factory.’ He smiled at Marina. ‘I have to hand it to the Mordavians, sir. This is way beyond anything our chaps have come up with – or could come up with. Not only have they suspended a box that heavy in the air from such a small wingspan, but they’ve kept it there for the time it
