Dock 17, Lunenburg Harbor
5:14 pm sharp!
"Are you sure this is the right place?" asked his grandfather, eyeing the narrow dock built well away from the main harbor.
"That's what the ticket says," replied Angus, shouldering his red backpack. "Don't worry. I’ll be fine."
"Ok," said his grandfather, "I have to run, but if you need anything, you know my number. Have a great time!"
“Thanks, Grampa!” Angus waved as his grandfather drove off.
I can't believe that worked! Angus thought, and I’m glad I didn’t ring the Sordino Bell yet. He patted the side pocket of his pack to feel that the soft bulge of the muted bell was still there.
5:13 pm and not a boat in sight. I guess they’re running late, thought Angus. He knelt and wrote his initials in chalk, just in case.
Two heartbeats later, a stern woman’s voice called out, "Angus, looking for Angus Tutter!"
An astonishing watercraft had silently materialized to bump gently against the dock. Blue and gold script along the side spelled the name Allegro. The massive craft resembled both a sailing yacht and a submarine. Its sleek main body bore a row of large portholes, and elaborate patterns of rivets covered the hull. An unusual fanfold sail ran along the top, resembling the dorsal fin of a fish. Sturdy railings studded with handholds lined narrow promenade decks stretching from bow to stern. Everything else seemed to be sealed tight within the boat’s belly.
"Angus, right? I’m the captain," bellowed a scowling older woman in a bright yellow rain slicker and hat. "Get on the boat now, kid! You are not going to screw up my schedule. Move it, move it!"
Angus grabbed his duffle bag and accepted the woman's outstretched hand more out of fear than anything else. She yanked him over the gap between the dock and the boat, pulling him through a narrow gate. Once he landed, the ship took off at a terrifying pace, and the wind almost blew him into the open ocean.
"Get below deck, boy! Do you want to drown? That way!" The woman pointed towards a hatchway.
Angus scrambled to open the door. Forgetting to knock three times, he threw himself through the opening, staggering to regain balance. What have I gotten myself into?
The opulence of the ship’s lounge boggled Angus’s mind. Twin marble staircases curved majestically to a broad balcony lined with planters of exotic greenery. A glittering chandelier threw tiny rainbows over deep carpeting, richly gleaming tables, and deep, plush seats. The fragrance of freshly cut flowers and baking bread wafted through the air, along with the tinkle of crystal glasses and silver cutlery. Angus’s stomach growled.
He felt underdressed in his flannel shirt and jeans, observing the fashion choices of those around him. Some passengers were attired so lavishly that they looked like they had just stepped off a movie set. A woman in a diamond-studded silver gown glided past, her tiny pink poodle trotting close behind. Bouncing a little girl in a rainbow jumpsuit on his knee, a Viking warrior recited nursery rhymes as a boy dressed in feathers clapped along. And descending the stairs, a teen girl adjusted her hat of slithering blue and orange snakes. Staring up at her from the bottom of the stairs, a blond boy with large ears tugged at the sleeves of his worn, hand-me-down suit.
A sweet sound filled the air. Angus looked to his left, and in the corner, four people dressed in tuxedos played stringed instruments.
Angus gaped and blinked.
"Why is your face all messed up, dude?" asked the boy with large ears, approaching Angus with a friendly smile.
"That sound," breathed Angus, "It's so beautiful!"
"What sound?" asked the boy.
"The music those people are making," said Angus, pointing to the four musicians.
"Haven't you ever heard of Bach before? Air on a G String?" The boy’s eyebrows lifted.
"Um...back?" said Angus.
"No, it's pronounced Bach, not back." the boy corrected. "He's a composer from, like, a couple hundred years ago. He wrote the music they’re playing."
"It’s brilliant," said Angus.
"A bit overplayed," observed the boy, "It’s at practically every wedding. But yeah, Bach is pretty good stuff. My name is Trevor, Trevor Noseworthy." He thrust out his hand, grinning from ear to ear, and those ears were enormous.
"Hey, Trevor. Nice to meet you. I'm Angus."
"Looking at my ears?" said Trevor. "My mom said I’d grow into them."
"No, I didn't notice," Angus lied.
"Right, they're like wings on the sides of my head," said Trevor. "Don't worry. I’m used to it. The next thing they always ask is why my nose isn't big too, having the last name Noseworthy and all."
Angus was surprised that this kid with giant ears didn't care about his appearance. He felt slightly better about his mismatched eyes, but not enough to pull his hair back.
"So, what do you think of Captain Edna?" asked Trevor. "Pretty scary, eh? She's from my hometown, St. John's, Newfoundland. She lost her husband in an accident on Oak Island during a storm one winter, and she hasn't smiled a bit since. Did you know her last name is Grouchy? She sure lives up to it!"
"I wouldn't want to get on her bad side," replied Angus. The mention of Oak Island reminded him of Uncle Benjamin, and he wondered how things were going.
"Come on," said Trevor motioning for Angus to follow, "Let's grab a table before the boat fills up."
The boys walked over to a booth by a large, round porthole obscured by frothing water as the ship sped to its next destination. Angus took a magnet out of his backpack, ran it back and forth over the seat, and then looked at it.
"No iron filings," said Angus as he put the magnet back in his pack, "We're all good."
Trevor gave Angus a perplexed look. “Yeah, sitting on iron filings would suck, I guess?”
They settled into their seats, and a server brought them a delightful fizzy beverage that tasted of fruit and honey.
“I’m assuming this is your first time to Benthos,” said Trevor, “I’ve never been either. Pretty exciting, isn’t it!”
“Yup,” Angus confirmed, “this is my first time. Not too sure what to expect. I live with my uncle, and let’s just say he’s not the biggest fan of music.”
“He must like some sort of music,” said Trevor, “maybe he likes polka or something?”
“Nope,” Angus shook his head, “my uncle is a little weird that way. He’s pretty much weird in every way. We travel around investigating paranormal phenomena, conspiracy theories, and stuff like that.”
“Sounds kind of fun,” said Trevor.
“It can be, sometimes, but we’re always on the road,” said Angus, “and my uncle has a lot of strict rules like no music and no going on the internet.”
“He doesn’t let you on the internet?” exclaimed Trevor, “I’m pretty sure that’s child abuse. How do you learn anything?”
“Books,” said Angus, “plus my uncle tutors me when he has time.”
“That’s so old-fashioned. It’s like you’re growing up in the nineties. I live on the internet. It’s how I learned everything I know about music. Too bad I can’t teach my family how to sing, though, yikes.”
“Your family can’t sing?” Angus asked with interest.
“Well, yes, they can sing,” said Trevor, “anybody can sing. They just can’t do it well. Really, they’re bad, and caroling at Christmas is awful.”
Not everyone can sing. Angus sipped his water and watched a couple dancing to the string quartet.
"So, how did you get your ticket?" asked Trevor, "Mine came in the mail on my twelfth birthday. I hoped I'd get it last year, but everyone is different. I heard of a guy who got an invite when he was seventy."
"Well, the first time Tuner gave me one, I lost it, and then this old guy named Clavis found it and gave it back to me."
"Clavis?" Trevor looked impressed. "A personal invite from Clavis, that's just fantastic!"
"Why? Is that a big deal?" asked Angus.
"Well yeah, because Clavis is like the top guy in Benthos," said Trevor, "Don't worry, you'll see."
The music ended, and passengers softly clapped. The string quartet shuffled papers on their music stands, then began another tune as the boat churned through the sea. Angus noticed his drink didn’t have any ripples in it.
"So why doesn't it seem like I'm on a boat anymore?" asked Angus. "It doesn't feel like we're moving at all."
"That's the stabilizers," said Trevor. "It reverses the phase of the waves and cancels them out. Kind of like noise-canceling headphones, only for ocean waves and not sound."
"That's pretty ingenious!" said Angus.
"Sure is! There's also a guy downstairs playing the didgeridoo that vibrates the hull. The vibration cuts down on friction, and we just glide through the waves like air." Trevor demonstrated with a hand motion.
"Doesn’t he get tired?" asked Angus, wondering what a didgeridoo was.
"No idea," Trevor shrugged, "Maybe there's a couple of them, and they take turns?" They both laughed.
"If you haven’t been to Benthos before, how do you know so much about it?" Angus probed.
"Oh, my aunt resonates with Thrum. She tells me all about it," said Trevor, "She's the only other person in my family who's musically inclined."
"So how long before we get there?" asked Angus, "Are we close?"
"Naw, we gotta pick up a lotta people. The boat goes all the way down the East Coast. Once we hit the Gulf of Mexico, we'll go east to the city."
"The Gulf of Mexico!" Angus exclaimed, "It'll take days to get there."
"Not on this baby," said Trevor. "She's the fastest boat on this side of the planet. It looks like we're already in Boston."
Angus could feel a slight shift as they stopped, and more passengers boarded the Allegro, including a young girl with a buzz cut and a pair of twin boys.
"Why is everyone looking at them?" Angus nodded at the twins.
"I think that’s Stewart and Joey Bodington. They’re composers; good ones!" replied Trevor. "Composers are pretty rare; they come up with the music we play. It's like they create new spells for us to use."
"Spells?" asked Angus.
"Compositions are kind of like spells." Trevor told him, "Each phrase does different things, and the better you play, the more powerful the spell becomes. You can heal people and even blow things up!"
"Music... is magic?" wondered Angus.
"Yes, music literally is magic," Trevor agreed, "It's not a coincidence those words are similar. The rumor is that it’s just a translation error from way back. You weren’t joking about not knowing anything about music!"
"Nope," said Angus, "my uncle didn't let me anywhere near it. I guess he was right about it being dangerous to a certain degree."
"It can also do a lot of good!" insisted Trevor. He pointed at the quartet on stage, "For example, they’re playing Spring from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, which helps people make friends."
"So, it wasn't just my charming personality all along?" Angus grinned.
Angus was not used to talking with children his age. Adults were comfortable, usually kind, and rarely judgmental or competitive like kids. Trevor seemed to be an exception, though, and Angus took a liking to him immediately.
The boat stopped in New York. Angus and Trevor watched as four rough-looking teens loudly boarded, wrestling and shoving one another.
“Oh no,” Trevor frowned, “that might be Zach and his gang. My aunt told me all about them.”
“That tall guy sure has a big mohawk,” Angus observed.
“That’s Zach Hendrik, I think,” said Trevor. The scowling teen wore a tattered jean jacket and heavy construction boots. “He’s their leader, and he’s mean.”
One of the boys snorted with laughter at something Zach said.
“Who’s the one with the weird laugh?” Angus pointed at a boy with pimples and what looked like cat scratches all over his face.
“Pretty sure that’s Bill Thugary,” said Trevor, “and the guy with square glasses must be Clem Stewart.” Clem was somewhat frail and thin and continually wrung his hands.
“And the girl with all the black and pink makeup on?” asked Angus.
“Probably Betsey Davidson,” said Trevor, “Look at her shirt. That’s awful.”
Betsey’s shirt read, ‘I eat cats.’
I don’t think she’d get along with my grandmother.
The unsavory crew scanned the room as if hunting for prey. Zach’s eyes stopped on Angus. He whispered something to his friends and swaggered over with a huge grin.
"You're sitting at our table," Zach growled at the younger boys and kicked the leg of Angus’s chair.
Clem, Bill, and Betsey gathered behind him, snickering.
"I think I'm going to call this one Mop Head,” Zach sneered, pointing at Angus's messy hair. The older boy leaned in, put his face in Angus's, and whispered, "Are you ok with that... Mop Head?"
"Haha, Mop Head." Bill giggled, "Good one, Zach, you're hilarious. What about the kid with the elephant ears?” He pointed at Trevor. “I bet he can hear stuff real loud.”
“You can have him. This guy’s mine.” Zach patted Angus on the head.
Angus's mouth dried up, and he considered grabbing bear spray from his backpack. His fingers tapped out a nervous pattern on the table. These kids were the reason Angus preferred the company of adults.
“Cut it out with your fingers,” snarled Zach, “it’s like, soooo annoying.”
Angus’s fingers refused to comply and tapped out an impressive drum roll.
“Looks like Mop Head needs a little muting,” said Zach, raising his hand to flourish a ring with a large red crystal. "I would like to introduce you to Zappo."
In response to a small gesture, the crystal projected onto Zach's body like a hologram. A bright orange guitar materialized, hanging from his shoulder. Angus and Trevor stared in a mixture of awe and fear.
Zach reached down to the volume knob and purred, "This is level one." He pulled a pick from his pocket.
"I'm going to show you how shocking Zappo can be," said Zach. He plucked a string and a note sung from the guitar. Carried by the sound, an electric spark flew from the guitar to Angus's hand and snapped with a biting shock.
"Look at his hair!" laughed Bill. "It's getting fluffier! Do it again, man!"
Zach hit the string harder, and Angus got an even bigger shock.
"Wow, it's getting bigger!" said Betsey, "Pretty soon, his hair will be twice the size of his head.”
"Again, again!" chanted Bill, jumping around and laughing so hard he could barely talk.
Zach hit the string one more time. The shock was so intense that Angus's hair stood on end, revealing his hidden blue eye.
Everyone stopped and gasped.
"Dude, that's so freaky," said Bill.
"It's gross. Are you a mutant or something?" Betsey crossed her eyes.
“I believe it's called heterochromia,” lectured Clem. His three friends looked at him, confused. “Um, and it looks really freaky.”
“I bet heterochromia means mega-dumb,” said Bill, guffawing at his own joke. “Zap him again! Again! Again!”. He jumped up and down like an excited toddler.
"NO INSTRUMENTS IN THE LOUNGE!" boomed Edna as she burst into the room. "Unless you have a permit like them." She pointed at the string quartet.
"Zach, sit over there with your knucklehead friends," ordered Edna. "You will not make me late like last time."
Captain Edna was indeed a scary woman. Zach and his friends obeyed without hesitation.
"Scum balls," scowled Trevor as soon as they were out of earshot. "Don't worry about them. I like your blue eye. It’s pretty cool. I'd far rather have two different color eyes than elephant ears."
Angus was happy to have Trevor on his side, and he relaxed a bit.
"That friendship song they’re playing sure doesn't seem to work on Zach and his minions," said Angus.
"No," Trevor shook his head, "they’re so nasty not even the best musicians could make them nice for thirty seconds."
They burst out laughing.
"I hear laughing, Mop Head!" Zach yelled across the room. "You both are too ugly to laugh."
Zach's gang snickered at his lame joke, and Bill snorted so violently that something flew out of his nose.
"ENOUGH!" commanded Edna, glaring at them. "Buckle up, we're in for some rough water in the Bermuda Triangle, and things might get bumpy. Next stop, Benthos City."