The Empire of Glass - Andy Lane [78]
Galileo wasn't sure whether to believe the evidence of his own eyes or not, but he was positive that an island such as that would have been spotted by the local fishermen long ago and colonized: or used, like the island of Sant' Ariano, as a reliquary for the bones of dead Venetians. Was it, therefore, new to these seas? Had it been constructed by these travellers from a foreign star that the Doctor talked about, and whose stellar chariots he had seen through his spyglass?
Galileo let his breath whistle out through his teeth. To build an entire island - what a massive feat of engineering that would be.
He would like to meet the people who could achieve that.
As he watched, entranced, a small shape like a flattened egg that glinted like metal rose up rapidly from the far side of the island, moving upward as smoothly and inexorably as the ebony balls that he had dropped from the tower of Pisa to test Aristotle's theory had fallen. The object was twin to the ones that Galileo had seen through his telescope. A method of getting to and from the island, perhaps? Truly he would like to ask these people how they achieved these marvels, but was he capable of understanding their explanations?
Of course he could understand. He was Galileo Galilei, foremost natural philosopher in Christendom.
"Hard a port!" the Doctor yelled back from his position by the mast, just as the egg-shape vanished into the clouds.
"Hard to where?" Galileo yelled back.
"Hard a port!" The Doctor's eyes gazed Heavenwards in exasperation. "To the left, Mr Galileo, to the left."
"Why?"
The Doctor took a few steps towards Galileo, as if to remonstrate with him, but one of the guy ropes pulled taut with a twang like a lute string, and he quickly stepped back to loosen it. "Because there is a suitable spot at which we can disembark to the left!" he cried. "Now please stop asking stupid questions and do what I tell you, hmm?"
Galileo grimaced, and pushed the rudder slowly to the right, feeling as he did so the shift in motion as the ship's path altered to favour the left.
"If you have nothing better to do," the Doctor called to Shakespeare in the bows of the ship, "perhaps you would lend a hand, Mr Shakespeare."
Shakespeare's fine clothes were drenched with water, and his sparse hair was plastered across his great bald forehead. "What would you -" He sucked his cheeks in suddenly and held a hand to his stomach. Galileo grinned. The spasm passed, and the man continued, "- have me do, Doctor?"
"Hold this line tight," the Doctor snapped, and threw a guy rope to Shakespeare, who took it gingerly. To Galileo's amazement, the Doctor scrambled like a monkey up the mast and set about loosening and retying the ropes that kept the sail attached to the mast. Moments later he returned to the deck, and Galileo was astonished to feel his body forced back slightly against the wooden stern as their speed increased. The ships hired by the Englishmen began to drop back as their boat surged ahead.
"A little trick I learned some years ago when I sailed with Edward Teach," the Doctor yelled back, the wind of their passage snatching the words from his mouth. "The material of the sail tightens if it's damp and there's a strong wind, and you can get a few more knots of speed by loosening it again."
Their boat was five lengths ahead of their leading pursuer now, and the gap kept increasing. The island filled the horizon ahead of them, growing larger by the moment. A spot of yellow close to the water resolved itself into a beach, and Galileo tacked slightly to make sure that they headed for it at a slight angle. Glancing back, over his shoulder, he could see the boats behind them as grey shadows in the mist, like charcoal marks on paper. They were well ahead now: the Doctor's trick had gained them a few precious minutes. The island was growing ever larger, and Galileo could make out details on the towers: windows, ledges and what looked like misshapen people gazing back at him.
And