The Explorer's Apprentice

70:A Differet Kind of Boat

I take the soundtracks for my stories very seriously, and I must admit that the song that goes along with this chapter is, probably, the lamest song I've ever heard. EVER. But even I, who jams to heavy metal and was never, EVER was much of a romantic--likes it anyway.:) Enjoy!

Eleanor Brown

A small, crumpled, red sheet of paper is kicked at Eleanor’s feet. She unfolds it.

‘Whoops, no Allie honey, you fold it this way.’

It looks silly in her hands, this little paper butterfly, unfolding like a living creature while chaos unfolds around her. It seems strangely… familiar. Where do I know this from?

‘Don’t cry, sweetie! Don’t cry, Allie, you’ll get it. Here, let me show you.’

Eleanor stares down at it with rapt attention. These thoughts in her head drown out even the loudest of shouts. Did… Did I make this?

‘That’s it Allie!’

No… No, my mother made this…

‘It’s beautiful Allie. Fly, little butterfly, fly…’

“Eleanor!”

The sound of her name snaps her back to the real world, and she shoves the paper butterfly into her pocket. Don’t be silly, she tells herself, embarrassed at being caught in such a serious situation.  My mother’s gone. Ghosts don’t make paper butterflies.

“Eleanor. Eleanor, get on the boat.” It’s the boy from the party, Georgia’s boy, with the sleek dark hair. He shoves aside two men fighting for a life vest and grabs her by the shoulders.

“What?” she blurts

“Get on the boat,” he repeats.

“But—”

“You have to get on, it’s the last boat, and Fabrizio said—”

“Last boat? There’s no more? Well you can tell Fabrizio there is no way I’m setting foot off this ship without him, so he needs to get his pretty little—”

“Please!” Jacob interrupts. The pain in his eyes is heart wrenching. “I have to find Georgia.”

“Move along, love, move along!” A massive ship guard shoves Eleanor from behind.

“No! Wait!”

Jacob nods his good-bye, as she’s bodily thrown into the lifeboat.

‘Put it in the box with the others, Alison.’ There are soft fingers on Alison’s little hands, and a halo of blonde hair. And a purple sweater. Alison asks what all the cranes are for. ‘Those are for you. When I make a thousand, I get to make a wish.’ Alison wants to know if she will get a wish. ‘Of course you do, honey. I’ll give my wish to you.’ And Alison puts her first paper butterfly in with the others, in the box, where they will be safe.

“Stop! Jacob, stop! Wait!” He does.

“Boxes,” she calls, as the signal is given for the boat to be lowered. “There are enough boats, if we make them ourselves. Find everyone you can, all the men who are staying behind, and tell them to get down to first class and take all the wardrobes and all the bed frames they can get their hands on.” She can see his eyes widen as he contemplates the magnitude of this plan. “It’ll work! Please, Jacob. Listen to me. Tell Fabrizio he can throw me in all the boats he wants but he’ll have to kill me before I leave knowing he’s not safe. And tell him—”

Her head slips below the rail, and he has to lean over the side to read her lips. She cups her hands over her mouth and shouts. “Tell him I love him!”