A small man in a red shirt burst onto the deck of the boat third from the left. He also had a megaphone. “No one will pass.”
“Your boats are small and our boat is large.”
“It is not the size of the boat that matters, but the anger of the man inside.”
Nyssa hissed and made a dash for the door. How dare they threaten these good men and women? Just before they cast off, the first mate had kissed his wife and three children goodbye. She’d watched as the youngest cried for her father to come home. Had these traitors no decency?
“No!” the captain called. A crewman, the sides of his head shaved and the long hair on top secured in a bun, stepped in front of her. She stumbled back, surprised by the quick movement and determination of the stranger.
The captain came to her side, gently taking her elbow and leading her back to the wheel. “No one can know you are on this boat. Your departure must be kept secret, for your own safety.”
“But …” Nyssa hugged herself, thinking of that darling, chubby-faced two-year-old who would never understand why her father didn’t come home. The hate in the eyes of Mahana’s men aboard the offending ships was enough to make Nyssa want to run to the palace and lock the gates. A shadow of warning cast itself across the bow, sending a shiver up her spine.
She had a straight back and a stomach full of worry. “Turn back.”
No one moved. It was as if she hadn’t spoken. “Turn back,” she insisted. “Your lives are more valuable than foolish pride. I will find another way.”
“There is no other way,” blurted the crew member still standing in front of the door.
“If I have to SCUBA to America, I will. But I will not allow your families to suffer because of Mahana.”
The men exchanged glances. The captain weighed his options. He studied the boats, the tethers that bonded them, and the desperation floating in the gypsum. “Reverse thrust,” he ordered.
The engines once again roared, churning up the sea as they backed away from the blockade.
The small men on the enemy’s decks cheered as though they had given the order, as though they were powerful.
“They do not understand the influence of a loyal heart,” said the captain as if he had heard her thoughts. “If you SCUBA to America, I would accompany you and give you my air tank when yours ran out.” He dipped his head in a bow.
“Thank you,” Nyssa whispered.
The captain blushed and bent his head over a chart. In short time, they were back where they started, having accomplished nothing more than to bolster the men at the blockade.
Nyssa left the ship in the center of a cluster of crewmembers some women and some men with Kingston on her heels. She had worn a simple shirt and pants to blend in, further keeping the knowledge of her departure a secret. The desire to leave the ship ran like high tide over the reef; it swept in powerfully and forced its way into small crevices. Nyssa slowed her steps. The blockade would not see them running away.
The dock bounced lightly with their steps, constantly shifting like her mood. She squeezed a small pebble tightly in her fist, drawing strength from the tiny rock that had faced an entire ocean and become a nearly perfect sphere. Life was sometimes like the ocean, rolling pebbles about and taking off the rough edges. Her mother had given her this pebble and the lesson all in one afternoon. “You may feel as small as this rock, but you can always be strong,” she had said, pressing the rock into Nyssa’s hand.
Father met her at the beach. To her great satisfaction, he did not wrap her in his arms like a child running from a bully. Instead he waited for her to come to him, and then they marched side by side up the sandy path to the palace gate hidden by the protective wall.
Once inside, she kissed the small pebble with relief. “What now?”
Father ushered her forward with a hand at her back. “There is another way, but I’d hoped to avoid using it.”
He showed her to a small door in the stone wall. Had he not pushed aside the rocks, she would have never seen the opening. She had to work her way between several tree trunks and the stones to reach the doorway leading to a dark tunnel lined with limestone.
Kingston grunted in surprise. “I’ve never seen this.” His brow lowered, shading his already dark eyes and giving him a menacing appearance. Perhaps they should have unleashed Kingston on the blockade, she mused.
“How did I not know this was here?” Nyssa and her brothers played over every inch of these gardens as children.
“You never knew to look.” Father smiled first at her and then Kingston. “There is a short tunnel and a hidden dock.” He nodded to Kingston to go first. He bowed slightly, and entered the tunnel. The giant of a man carried her two suitcases, one in each hand, and his small bag slung over one shoulder. How such a large man could pack so light she’d never know.
“My captain will take you around the island and away from the blockade. If God listens to my prayers, you will make it safely to Aradus.”
Aradus was one of the few islands in their cluster that had room for an airport, and even then, the runway was covered in grass and bumpy. The terminal was only open when a plane was scheduled to depart. Several of the royal families in the area used helicopters, but her family had clung to tradition and traversed the sea. There was something quite romantic in navigating the currents of their ancestors, though she was beginning to wonder about upgrading their travel accommodations.
From Aradus, she would fly to North Carolina and then on to Washington, DC, where her
