chapter 3

Hot Air

The night turned to day, then to night again, then another day. At first, the reality of water stretching from horizon to horizon was a little unnerving. The only sounds were the wind in the sails and the splash of the waves against the bow. But Twig saw how Char would lift his snout into the air and breathe deeply; the dragon seemed to be blissfully enjoying the new smells.

The excitement of finding themselves in the vast ocean didn’t last. It wasn’t long before they wished they could see even a glimpse of a bush or a tree, and the unending ocean was monotonous . . . and a little scary. And their food supplies were running out.

After a week on the open water they awoke to an eerie stillness. The breeze that usually picked up as the sun rose never came. The sails on the ship hung limp.

“What do we do now?” asked Basil. “We’re just sitting here.” Although he was relieved not to have the usual stomach-churning lurch of the water, it was a little disconcerting to be motionless in the middle of the sea.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Basil,” Twig answered. He looked at the sky. “Clear. No clouds. At least no storms are coming, but the air is so still.”

Char snorted and pointed his snout to the air. He was looking a bit better. The seaweed diet seemed to help.

Lily giggled. “We should get Char to flap around. His little wings could stir up a breeze.”

“Hey!” Basil said. “Why not use Char?”

“Seriously, Basil?” Twig replied. “Those little wings couldn’t stir up enough breeze to sail a ship!”

“You’re not thinking. What if Char made a little breeze using something else? Maybe some hot air? He could blow us around.”

“You may have something there, Basil,” Lily said. “He could snort at the sails and conjure up enough wind to take us somewhere.”

Twig pulled at his whiskers and then shrugged. “Why not? Let’s give it a try. Char? You feel up to an experiment?”

Char gave Twig a puzzled look and then followed him toward the stern. “Okay, buddy,” Twig said encouragingly. “Give it what you’ve got.” He pointed Char’s head in the direction of the sails and stroked the dragon’s chin gently. Char gave a snort, then a sort of burp, and he jerked his neck back. A moment later a puff of smoke, and then a blast of fire, shot from Char’s nostrils.

The accompanying hot air pushed at the lower sail. The canvas flapped gently. The Captive moved forward a bit.

“Attaboy, Char!” Basil shouted. “See? I knew it would work. Try it again, Twig!”

“Well, it’s working,” Lily commented. “But I can tell it took a lot out of Char.”

Char’s velvety wings drooped, and smoke curled from his nostrils. He looked a bit exhausted.

“He’s just getting started. Let’s do that again, Char,” Basil insisted. “Twig, stroke his neck again and let him give the sails another blast.”

Again Twig gave Char a series of caresses, and again Char’s forceful blasts pushed at the sails. Over and over they cajoled Char into blowing the sails, and the ship moved in spurts across the water.

But the effect was not worth the effort: Char was soon weakened and drained. The Captive had gone only a short distance. The crew abandoned the idea.

But as they sputtered through the sea, Lily noticed that their dancing ship attracted dozens of tiny silver fish. The fingerlings darted this way and that around the stern of the ship, like fleeting bits of foil in the green water. She got an idea.

She went below, into the hold of the ship, and then hauled up all sorts of vines and old twine, heaping them onto the deck and plopping herself in the middle of the pile.

Then her paws began moving rapidly in sync.

Basil was perplexed. “What in the world are you doing now?” he asked. “Here we are stuck in the middle of who knows where, and you’re weaving? Are you crazy?”

“Just wait. You’ll see.”

Twig was just as puzzled but kept quiet. Before long he saw that Lily, using her knowledge of knots and weaving, had begun to fabricate a long net.

She worked diligently. By the end of the afternoon, she was finished.

“Here, hold this end,” she said to Basil, handing him one end of a long coil of vine. “Twig, you take this end.” With Basil and Twig positioned on either side of the stern, Lily tossed the mass of net off the end of the ship.

The net floated just below the surface and opened up like a flower blossom. They watched as one by one, the tiny silver fish came to the net to explore. Curious, several swam inside the opened end.

“See?” Lily whispered. “They’re swimming inside.”

“Then we pull the net onto the deck?” Twig whispered back.

“Uh-huh, exactly.”

They surveyed the scene as the small fish continued to swim in and out of the net, getting more and more at ease with the strange object which was looking like a mass of seaweed floating in the water.

“When do we pull it up?” Basil asked.

“Just a little more time,” Lily breathed. “When I say now.”

A dozen of the fish were in the net. Lily nudged her friends. “Now!”

With much splashing and a frenzy of commotion, they yanked on the ends of the net and pulled it up onto the deck. Most of the silvery fish had slipped away, but several of them thrashed and flipped and sputtered on the planks, eyes wide and gills pulsing.

“You did it!” Twig cried.

Lily grinned, blushing.

Basil was still not in the mood for eating. “What do we do with a bunch of fish?” he asked.

“They’re not for us, silly,” Lily responded. “They’re for Char!” She picked up one of the slippery, wiggling fish and offered it to the baby dragon. Char greedily gobbled it down and looked for more.

“Hey! Excellent!” Twig shouted. “Lily, you’re a genius. Char looks excited. He’s feeling better already!”

Lily proudly offered Char another fish, then another. It was good to see him sitting up, his wings fluttering and eyes a little brighter.

“Hey! What’s that?” asked Basil, pointing up at the sails.

Small puffs of wind were massaging the canvas.

Twig cheered. “Hurrah! The wind is picking up. Finally!”

“Now maybe we can get somewhere,” said Basil. “This life on the ocean is for the birds. Or the fish, anyway.”

The breeze picked up.

They raced around, tightening lines and making sure the sails were ready for the wind. Twig took his place at the wheel.

“I’ll take crow’s-nest duty,” Lily said as she darted up the ropes.

The breeze became a bit more brisk, and the Captive began racing across the waves. Lily found herself gripping the railing of the crow’s nest tightly. “Steady as she goes!” she shouted down.

She looked off to the horizon, and the fur on her neck stood up.

“Twig! Basil!” she cried out. “We may be in for it!”

They all looked off to the west. The sky behind them was black and ominous. Dark clouds were roiling and banking. The sun disappeared. A thick blanket of storms was heading right toward the Captive.