We’re counting on Madge to find you with her sharp eyes. When you send her back, just say “frog food” and she’ll fly straight to me — I’ve been feeding her those steak bits ever since we took her aboard. Do hurry, Kate, and send your reply!
Cannonball (Joe Shooter)
The moment he finished reading, Reynie began to pace. What he really felt like doing was curling into a ball. The letter should have encouraged him, but under the circumstances it was heartbreaking. If they sent Madge right away with a reply, and if everything went exactly as hoped, the slow and noisy skiff would reach the bay just as the children arrived. But Kate was right — they would almost certainly be spotted crossing that rocky plain; the Salamander, then, would be hot on their trail, and Milligan had said the Salamander was very fast on land and water both. Even if they made it to the skiff . . . well, a damaged skiff would be easy pickings. They would be snatched up by Mr. Curtain’s crew long before they reached the Shortcut.
The others were all groaning now, having slowly come to understand what had distressed Reynie right away: there was no way out of this.
“At least Number Two is safe,” said Sticky gloomily. “That’s something, anyway.”
The others nodded but said nothing. They were all relieved Number Two was safe. Her good news was their bad news, though, for Mr. Curtain and his Ten Men, not finding her in the western woodland, would continue to circle the island. That made it even more likely the children would be intercepted before they reached the bay.
Reynie glanced down at Mr. Benedict’s sleeping face, frowned, and went back to pacing.
“Maybe we should try to hide,” said Constance. “Those patrol boats will come eventually, right? Maybe they’ll get here in time to save us.”
“We’d have to be awfully lucky,” said Kate. “I say we run for it and hope for the best. Milligan’s probably in the forest, remember. If we can just get to him, he can help us.”
Sticky was feverishly polishing his spectacles. “What do you think, Reynie? Should we run for it or hide?”
Reynie gritted his teeth. What did he think? It would be hard to hide everyone from the Ten Men for long. And even if the patrol boats arrived soon and sent their crews ashore, Reynie doubted their chances against Mr. Curtain’s group of nasties, especially since the Ten Men had the Salamander. But running? Reynie’s mind returned to the skiff. Noisy, Cannonball had said — so they couldn’t even hope to avoid detection in the heavy gray mist. And unlike Kate, Reynie didn’t count on Milligan’s being able to help them. No, hiding seemed the better option, although it was a nearly hopeless one, and although . . .
Reynie paused in his pacing. He did see one other option. He had seen it from the very beginning, in fact, but had kept shoving it aside. If it worked, it was their best chance of escape. But if it didn’t, all would be lost — and for it to work Reynie must depend upon something he felt could not be depended upon.
“Reynie?” Kate prompted. “What do you say?”
Reynie stared at the sleeping figure of Mr. Benedict. They had risked life and limb for him, had come to the ends of the earth to save him. If Mr. Benedict were awake right now, what would he have Reynie do? He felt a tugging at his sleeve. Constance was gazing up into his face.
“You should trust him,” she said.
“Trust him?” Kate repeated. “Trust who? Reynie, what’s she talking about?”
Reynie returned Constance’s gaze. He knew she was right. He knew what Mr. Benedict would have him do. The question was whether he had the courage to do it.
“Reynie?”
“Give me a pen and paper,” said Reynie, making up his mind. “I know what we need to do!”
What Shines in Darkness
Descending the mountain with the sledge was the most arduous physical challenge either of the boys had ever attempted, and if not for Kate they never would have succeeded. Her excellent eyes, her sense of balance, her gauge of distance and slope — to say nothing of her unusual strength — saved the boys from deadly tumbles more than once. And all the while the sledge had to be kept aright to spare Mr. Benedict and Constance, who struggled mightily to keep him on the sledge without falling off herself. Halfway down the mountain Reynie and Sticky were already trembling and aching from their exertions — and they were pulling downhill.
By the time they reached level ground even Kate was exhausted. Despite the cooling mist and the unfailing wind, her face radiated heat, and her leg muscles and lungs burned from their unusual strain. Gazing out through the mist across that wide rocky plain, remembering how hard crossing it had been just the night before, Kate’s shoulders drooped. She doubted the boys could make it without a long rest — probably several long rests — and there was no way she could pull the sledge alone. Still, the crossing must be attempted. She looked at Reynie and Sticky, both of them gasping and doubled over.
“We can’t rest long,” she said apologetically. “A minute or two, and then —”
Sticky straightened abruptly. His face, dripping with perspiration and taut with fatigue, bore a look of resolution so intense it startled Kate. “No, let’s go now. We can’t afford to rest.”
Sticky’s tone struck Reynie just as his expression had struck Kate, and when Reynie looked up wonderingly he noticed something missing. “Sticky, what happened to your spec-tacles?”
“They fell off and slid down an embankment. I didn’t want to waste time going after them. Never mind, I can see well enough to see we have a long way to go.” He took one of the sledge grips in a hand already raw from pulling. “I’m ready when you are.”
Reynie, who didn’t feel ready in the least, wiped his brow and made an effort to stand up straight, while Kate drew her shoulders back, suddenly encouraged by Sticky’s display of fortitude. “Where did all this toughness come from?” she asked.
Sticky gave her a weak smile. “I’ve been saving it up.”
“Well, now was the perfect time to spend it,” said Kate, impressed.
Indeed, over the long, grueling trek across the plain, Sticky gave all of them hope. It was Reynie who’d had the idea and Kate who’d plotted their course, but it was Sticky who sacrificed the most — and in the process inspired the others to greater effort. His skinny frame quaked with exhaustion, sweat streamed from his head, and more than once his legs wobbled and went out from under him, but each time he rose, collected himself, and set to the task again with a fierceness they’d never seen. The fact was that Sticky had finally been given a chance to make up for his errors — a chance to get his friends out of danger — and he was passionately determined to succeed, no matter the cost to himself.
When Reynie slipped, Sticky helped him up. When Kate uncharacteristically despaired aloud at their progress, Sticky assured her they would make it, and somehow managed to double his efforts. Time and again his body faltered; time and again Sticky hauled himself up and pressed on. It was a noble thing to behold, and as the group at long last drew near the forest, Reynie found himself thinking that even if they were caught, he was grateful to have seen Sticky at his finest.
“We’re actually going to make it,” said Constance incredulously, and it was true — their pace had slowed to a crawl, and the boys’ hands were blistered and bleeding, but they lacked just a few yards until they could leave the exposed plain for the shelter of the forest.