The
Bold Ship Phenomenal
Chapter
one
The
problem with life, thought Malachi as he trudged along the tide line, was
science. It wasn’t the only problem, no way, but at this point it was certainly
one of his biggest.
“Science
sucks,” he said, booting at the sand, so that it rose and scattered before him
in a damp fan. “Science sucks.” Then again,
louder and louder, until he was practically shouting it, “Science sucks,
science sucks”. And to make matters worse, science was the first lesson of the
day and he was already late. “Scien...”, he began again.
But
then he saw the bottle and he stopped.
The
bottle was propped, several meters below the tide mark, in a shallow pool left
by the retreating sea. Further down the beach, the sea ssshh ssshhed as it slid
onto the sand, but the pool that the bottle rested in was perfectly still, its
blue-green surface cradling its glassy catch.
Normally
this was exactly the sort of thing that interested Malachi. Stumbled upon
treasures, jetsam and flotsam, he would scoop them up and squirrel them home to
examine in the peace of his room. But today he couldn’t be bothered. Not with
the way he was feeling, not after the way his day had kicked off.
He
aimed another angry swipe at the sand and hoisted his bag up his back. He would
have to hurry. But something about the bottle drew back his eye. Something
about the way it reclined, as if it was struggling to stand upright, its top
reflecting sunlight in smatters and sparks, like a miniature lighthouse on the
shores of an inland sea.
Malachi
dropped his bag and balanced on the pool’s edge to ease the bottle free. The
bottle was large and surprisingly heavy. Slime-stained string coiled around its
neck, below an orange wax bung. Grey barnacles clung on its belly and base, and
its glass was coated in algae and a thick clouding of salt.
Malachi
stretched his sleeve over his hand and dipped his palm in the pool. He rubbed
the bottle with the wet sleeve, trying to make a clear space in the glass. As
he rubbed, the sound of the ocean filled his head. Gently at first – shh, shh,
shh – then building, until the waves’ song thumped and thundered on the shore.
Startled,
Malachi looked up, but the beach was quiet. The waves along the tide line had shrunk
if anything, melting back into themselves before they finished their journey up
the sand. Only the occasional sea bird, flying low, moved or called.
Malachi
looked back down at the bottle but his rubbing had made no difference and the
glass was still too murky to see inside. The bottle was certainly heavy though,
as if it may be full, although when he shook it no liquid sloshed against the
glass. He would have liked to take it home and clean it properly, see what was
inside, but he was too late for that. Being late was Dad’s fault, but if he was
any later Mrs Green would be back on the phone, back on his case, and that was
the last thing he needed. Cleaning the bottle would just have to wait.
He
took off his jersey and wrapped it carefully around the bottle, before clearing
a space in the top of his pack. He placed the bottle in, did up the zip and
eased the pack onto his back. Then, trying to keep as even a gait as possible, he
jogged along the tide line, making up for lost time as he headed straight for
school.
