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    Nation: A Printz Honor Winner
    Nation: A Printz Honor Winner
    Nation: A Printz Honor Winner
    Ebook390 pages6 hours

    Nation: A Printz Honor Winner

    By Terry Pratchett

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    About this ebook

    New York Times Bestseller * Winner of the Los Angeles Times Book Prize * Winner of the Boston Globe/Horn Book Award * Michael L. Printz Medal honor winner

    From the pen of Sir Terry Pratchett, author of the beloved and bestselling Discworld fantasy series, comes an epic adventure of survival that mixes hope, humor, and humanity.

    When a giant wave destroys his village, Mau is the only one left. Daphne—a traveler from the other side of the globe—is the sole survivor of a shipwreck. Separated by language and customs, the two are united by catastrophe. Slowly, they are joined by other refugees. And as they struggle to protect the small band, Mau and Daphne defy ancestral spirits, challenge death himself, and uncover a long-hidden secret that literally turns the world upside down.

    Sir Terry also received a prestigious Printz Honor from the American Library Association for his novel Dodger.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateOct 6, 2009
    ISBN9780061975233
    Nation: A Printz Honor Winner
    Author

    Terry Pratchett

    Terry Pratchett (1948–2015) was the acclaimed creator of the globally revered Discworld series. In all, he authored more than fifty bestselling books, which have sold more than one hundred million copies worldwide. His novels have been widely adapted for stage and screen, and he was the winner of multiple prizes, including the Carnegie Medal. He was awarded a knighthood by Queen Elizabeth II for his services to literature in 2009, although he always wryly maintained that his greatest service to literature was to avoid writing any.

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    Reviews for Nation

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    1,549 ratings149 reviews

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    • 4/5
      It's been a long time since I've read this novel, but I remember quite a few things from it. My initial impression was that the two characters's experiences on the island were not connected, but the whole novel was about the two characters 'growing up' experience, what they learnt from each other and about others too. In this, it can be considered a double 'picaresque' novel, as if Pratchett had recreated a new world from an small island, with not so much a Big Bang, but as the result of a tsunami/earthquake. There is much less humour than in the Discworld novels, it is very different in tone and writing style, with quite possibly some underlying ecological and sociological message behind it all for readers. It doesn.t leave anyone indifferent and our interpretation of the whole can also differ from each other. It is a good read, chapters are relatively short, the action picks up pace along the pages and the characters could be the metaphor for a new Eden/world, like Adam and Eve, despite other additional people on the island. It is not your usual novel.
    • 5/5
      Pratchett leaves Discworld behind to explore an alternative colonization that /wouldn't/ leave centuries of destruction in its wake. (There's no colonization on the Disc; it wouldn't be funny enough). Much sadder than your typical Pratchett, but with humor aplenty and the exploration of morality that is so apparent in late Pratchett. 
    • 5/5
      I know my goal was to read all the discworld books this year, but after I ran out of Stephen Briggs audiobooks, I saw this one. It's Pratchett, but melancholy. Stephen Briggs is a great narrator, as always. The book starts off with a tsunami coming and wiping out a boy's entire island. No people left. And the tsunami also shipwrecks a white girl onto this South Pacific island. They are alone and can't talk to each other, and other survivors are washing up on the shore too. And the island holds a mysterious secret in an ancient cave. The island boy and the white girl must build a little nation of their own if they are to survive. Pratchett's wordplay is in top form, and the writing is excellent, but there is a sadness behind the words. This is the book Pratchett wrote after being diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and you can see his anger and struggle in this story.
    • 4/5
      Kearsten says: This was quite interesting - a boy, coming back from his solo initiation to manhood, survives a tsunami in a small canoe. But when he returns to his island, hoping to see his family and the others of the Nation, waiting to complete his initiation, he is met with an empty beach and the complete destruction of his village. His desolation nearly kills him, until he discovers that his island holds one other survivor - a young white girl, the only survivor on a ship that, carried by the wave, has been marooned on the island. Can these two - separated by culture, language and fear - come together and rebuild a Nation?Wonderfully written, scary and uplifting, I couldn't decide who I liked more - Daphne, in her stubborn refusal to freak out, or Mau, in his stubborn refusal to let Lokachu (sp?), the god of death, win his soul...if he even has one any more...
    • 4/5
      The Sweet Judy, a proud and pious ship, has just crashed onto an island called the Nation. In fact it didn't so much as crash as land on the island. The Sweet Judy rode on top of a tsunami wave to be dropped in the middle of the land, far from the ocean. There was only one survivor, a young girl named Daphne.Mau was no longer a boy, but not yet a man when the wave came to the Nation. The wave destroyed his home, and his people, leaving him the only survivor of what was once a prosperous community. After burying his family and friends, Mau is left to wonder why the gods allowed this to happen.Mau and Daphne, despite some earlier communication problems, begin to rebuild the community that was once the Nation. Now comprised of survivors of the wave from other islands it is still vulnerable to attack. When the raiders come will the nation be strong enough to stand against them?This book isn't just about adventure and cannibals and tree climbing octopi. It is the constant question of religion: is there really a god or did we just make it all up to sleep better at night? Mau has lost his faith and pride. Will the voices of his ancestors help him get it back.I originally didn't care much for the story. It was slow and comprised of seemingly unrelated stories. But the more I read the more I fell in love with the characters, especially Mau. By the end I didn't want to leave them behind. Wonderfully written by Terry Pratchett with an excellent last chapter.
    • 4/5
      A new book from Pterry is always a delight. This one isn't Discworld; it's about a Pacific island in a slightly alternative universe. It's about nation building, and the aftermath of a disaster, and science and religion and ethics and other big themes.It's not as funny as Pratchett often is; nor as dark as some of the later Discworlds. It's more gently humorous in its cultural commentary. The simplicity of language and age of the protagonists marks it as a young adult book, but Pratchett fans of all ages will love it anyway.
    • 5/5
      Summary: Nation is set in an alternate version of the south Pacific ocean during the late 1800s. Mau is a boy - soon to be man - who is caught up in a tsunami during his manhood rites. When he returns to his home island, his village and everyone he's ever known is gone, swept away by the wave. However, he's not alone on the island; a British ship has been shipwrecked on the island by the tsunami, with a British young lady as its only survivor. Daphne (the young lady - or "the ghost girl", as Mau calls her) knows all of the finer points of etiquette, but must come to terms with the fact that nothing in her breeding has prepared her for survival on a tropical island. Mau, the last survivor of his people, must not only figure out how to live without a village to support him, but how to live with the death of everything he knows, and with the capricious gods who would allow such a terrible thing to happen. Only together do they have any hope of rebuilding the world and the life washed away by the wave.Review: I liked Good Omens well enough, but after reading my first few of Pratchett's solo novels, I didn't understand what all of the fuss was about. They were fine, but they didn't strike me as anything special. But, now that I've listened to the Tiffany Aching books and Nation, I can describe myself as a full-on fan. (Maybe I only like Terry Pratchett as read by Stephen Briggs? It's a distinct possibility; he's a wonderful narrator who really complements Pratchett's sense of humor.) In any case, Nation was wonderful. I loved the science and history of science aspect of it, and how it was accessible to young adult readers but not dumbed down. I loved that there were real moral, emotional, and philosophical dilemnas that the characters had to wrestle with, and that they don't find any easy answers. I loved the characters themselves - particularly Mau, who I now have a bit of a crush on. I loved that the novel managed to be both hilarious in its dry, witty way, as well as heartbreaking, occasionally even at the same time. I loved that Pratchett managed to deal with a lot of thorny issues, like colonialism and atheism, without getting overly moralizing or forcing his point of view about any of them. But what I particularly loved was the sensibility of the book - to quote what I said in my review for Wintersmith, the characters "just generally seem to have their head screwed on right." It's a book that values - and encourages - independent thought, both in its characters and in its readers, and I can only wish that more books did the same.The only thing I didn't entirely love was the plotting. I was completely enthralled for the first half or so of the book, when it was still very survival-story heavy. (My Side of the Mountain got me hooked on survival stories at a young age and I've never fully recovered.) I stayed absorbed during the middle section, but by the last third of the book, when more people begin to show up, I felt like the plot lost a little of its steam. I was still listening intently, mostly wondering how Pratchett could possibly wrap things up satisfactorily (he did, although not at all in the way I was expecting), but the story didn't feel nearly as urgent as it had in the earlier parts. Still, on the whole, I really enjoyed this book, and suspect it will be one of my top picks for the month, if not for the year. (...and, for those of you who have read it: I have absolutely caught myself muttering "Does Not Happen!" whenever something I'm working on isn't going my way.) 4.5 out of 5 stars.Recommendation: It's similar in outlook to Pratchett's Tiffany Aching books, obviously, but also I think to Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, although Nation is less preachy and more open-ended than those. I'd recommend Nation to just about everybody, actually, but particularly those who are looking for an excellent young adult novel that can make you laugh and cry and, most importantly, think.
    • 5/5
      Terry Pratchett. One day, someone "respectable" will read one of his books and discover they're much, much more than silly fantasy novels, and they'll be republished with "respectable" covers and everyone will read them and realize how much is really in there."Nation" is not a discworld novel. It's set in an alternate universe on a small island, where the survivors of a giant tidal wave are trying to pick up the pieces. The central figures are a native boy and an English girl, and as they're trying to survive they're also question the things they've always been told - most importantly, the existance of a god/gods.It's a great portrait of growing disbelief, accompanied with a developing belief in oneself, or humankind, than gods.The one thing I don't like about Pratchett's novels is that it always takes me rather long to get into them. I'm never grabbed by the first pages, I need to read at least twenty or so. Then, however, I'm hooked.
    • 3/5
      Mau is returning to his island home after a coming of age rite on another island when the tidal wave strikes. He manages to survive, but discovers that no one else has -- no friends, no family, no elders -- except for the ghost girl, Daphne, whose boat was shipwrecked on the island during the storm. These sole survivors must learn to communicate and forge a new nation, with the straggling others who come to join them. I have always wanted to read something by Terry Pratchett, and this was my first. I found the book difficult to get into and never really reached that point where I was captivated by the story. Mau and Daphne are likeable characters, and the story is clever, funny, and challenging. It also makes one question assumptions one has about who is really civilized and learned in the world. Not sure who this is just right for -- some complicated issues for younger readers, but high school students may not like the plot.
    • 5/5
      Wow, what a book! It dealt with so many complicated subjects like is there really a god, is one culture smarter than another, history, science, colonization.... just tons of stuff. BUT... it wasn't boring and it wasn't dull. It was a very quick easy read and was full of humor and adventure. I LOVED the main characters, Mau and Daphne. They're both extremely smart, kind, and brave... each in their own way. They both grew a great deal during the novel as well. It was just a really great read.
    • 4/5
      Enjoyed the idea of Mau always trying to do the right thing, no matter how hard physically or emotionally the task at hand proved itself to be.
    • 4/5
      On one end of the world, the king has died and the Gentlemen of Last Resort start a desperate search for the heir in order to continue the line of the throne with as little trouble as possible. On the other end of the world, a great wave has come crashing through, turning Mau's world upside down. Instead of returning from the Boy's Island now a man, he returns home to find the entire Nation gone. A ship has landed, and the only survivor, Ermintrude...er...Daphne (long story) doesn't know what to do in this situation.In some ways, this was reminiscent of the other books by Terry Pratchett. Set in a parallel universe and full of zany humor, it was a fairly fun ride. My only frustration was that his thoughts on religion seemed to overshadow the story at some parts, as Mau learns that maybe what he believed all along may not be true. It sort of felt at points like I was being given a lesson, and I didn't like that aspect of it. A worthwhile, humorous and thought-provoking read.
    • 4/5
      I suppose that after twenty-five years of writing DiscWorld novels, Terry Pratchett has earned the right to do something a bit different. And different is precisely what he does with his latest novel, "Nation.""Nation" is a story set in a parallel universe to ours, but it's not the world of DiscWorld. (Though it could someday be, I suppose, though I hope Pratchett resists the temptation to "tie together" all his universes). Mau is a young boy, sent on a quest to become a man by his tribe. Daphne is a young girl on a large ship from a "civilized" nation, headed out to join her father at a foreign post. This unlikely duo cross paths when a huge wave wipes out Mau's entire village and shipwrecks Daphne on an island with him. Together, the two must learn to forge a new civilization, figuring out what is essential to keep from their old lives and what can and probably should be discarded from their old ways of life.Eventually, the two begin to forge their own civilization and soon have various refuges showing up, looking for shelter who become part of the new nation being formed on the island.As I said before, if you're looking for your "typical" Pratchett, you'd be best advised to pick up a DiscWorld novel. That's not to dismmiss "Nation," but instead to say that this story has the same style but is distinctly different. Pratchett still has a way with words, but it's used less to humorous effect here and more toward building the world and finding new and interesting ways to describe things. And this is a novel that is firmly about the characters of Mau, Daphne. Pratchett spends a good deal of time early in the story estabishing who they and the backgrounds they come form, all before beginning to tear it down and rebuild things. It's an interesting process to watch unfold on the page and it leads to some interesting observations by Pratchett through the eyes of his two characters.In his epilogue, Pratchett says he hopes this novel will make readers think. And while there were moments in the story where I wondered what he was up to, I will have to admit the ideas, concepts and torn-down assumptions from this novel have stayed with me long after the last page was turned.It's not DiscWorld. It's some very different. And it's something very good.
    • 5/5
      Terry Pratchett is a world treasure. He is one of my favorite writers of all time. I was so excited when I opened that envelope and found an advance copy of Nation inside that I did a happy little dance and kissed the book a few times. That's how happy I was to be getting this book.I should point out that this is not a Discworld novel. It's set in something that's more like the real world, only not really so much. From what I can make out, it's set in the 19th century, though I'm hardly an expert on history, so I suppose it could be late 18th century or something. Anyway, the world has ended, sort of.Some sort of plague has wiped out large portions of England's population, but that's not the imoprtant end of the world. The important one is the giant tidal wave that has swept through the Mothering Sunday Islands. It killed everyone on the tiny island called the Nation, which is the biggest island in the chain. The only survivor is a young boy named Mau, who was in the middle of the ceremony that would make him a man. He soon finds an English girl who has been shipwrecked on the island with him, and they are joined by other survivors later on.This is the story of the rebuilding and redefining of the Nation. It's also the story of Mau and how he comes to grips with the loss of his whole world. And it's the story of "Daphne," the shipwrecked English girl, and how she learns a lot from people she, at first, considers savages. There are also some ghosts, mutineers, cannibals, and gods.It is a really great book, and with the possible exception of Good Omens, is probably the best of Pratchett's non-Discworld novels. This is a funny, moving, and thought-provoking book. It is definitely worth your time to read it.
    • 4/5
      I loved this. Not Discworld. Probably aimed at YA, and I will recommend it to my 14 yo son. Thoughtful, dealing with religion & faith, puberty, family, racism, and culture. Leavened with just enough humor and excitement to make it engaging.
    • 5/5
      Quickie review: Oh, wow. This is absolutely brilliant. Re-read September 29, 2009.
    • 5/5
      A beautiful work by Terry Pratchett. Humorous, exciting, and full of characters you can't help but love, even down to the old lady with no teeth who has no real bearing on the overall story. This is not a Discworld story; it's set instead in our world, sort of. It's a great treatise on Empire and its effects on both the conqueror and those who would be conquered. And it also tackles issues of racism, multiculturalism, and communication across the chasm of culture.
    • 5/5
      A non-Discworld child/adult book from the master. I was worried that his recent problems would affect his writing and I shouldn't have been - he's on great satirical and comic form in this one, even though it deals with serious themes - the central one the rebuilding of a nation following disaster. I don't want to dissect the plot too much and give too much away - read it, you won't be dissappointed.
    • 4/5
      Narrated by Stephen Briggs. Although this is aimed at young readers, it's a story that can be enjoyed on different levels whatever your age. For kids, "Nation" is an island adventure. Teen readers will identify with Mau and Daphne's questioning of the values they grew up with. And adults will recognize the conflicts of culture, religion, and colonialism. Narrator Stephen Briggs does a masterful job immersing listeners in this island world and the huge challenges it faces. Cheers for Mau, who truly earns his manhood leading this new Nation.
    • 4/5
      Non-Discworld Terry Pratchett. A tsunami has come and wiped out Mau's village while he was absent for his right of passage to become a man. However, it also deposited the Sweet Judy, a ship with one surviving girl passenger. Now the two of them must learn to communicate, because they are the only ones on the island, and then learn how to be a community and re-establish the patterns of beliefs, etc, when other survivors of the great wave join them on the island. This is toned down from discworld but is still a great commentary on society and beliefs.
    • 4/5
      A delightful story from Pratchett. It's set somewhere nearer to home than Discworld, but has his same mix of humour, social comment and philosophy.
    • 3/5
      Well, this left me feeling a little ambivalent. When the narrative is focused on the native islander Mau and the young English survivor of a shipwreck, Erminitude (or "Daphne" as she prefers to be known) it is both an entertaining and gripping read. But there is a little too much meandering portentous stuff about religion and questioning and civilization. The longish denouement is also rather dull. Overall this is a decent read but I wouldn't rate it as being amongst Pratchett's best.
    • 5/5
      Listened to Harper Children's Audio CD edition narrated by Stephen Briggs. This was absolutely fantastic. Stephen Briggs does a top notch job with the narration. Different voices for all the characters in a variety of accents as needed. There's lots of thinking here too and it's always clear if a character is just thinking or actually speaking which can be so hard to delineate on audio. Emotions are always effectively conveyed and the dialogue was fluid and sounded so much like real conversations that I would occasionally forget it was all being done by the same person.

      Pratchett's story is great partly because it's so layered. You could listen to this just as a straight up adventure story and love it or you could also contemplate the things that Pratchett is saying about religion and society and people's natures. The characters of Mau and Daphne are fully drawn - likeable, sympathetic, admirable in their tenacity, strengths and weaknesses. "Does not happen," will stick with me for a long time and I only wish it could work so well in real life as Daphne and Mau make it work here. All this and I haven't even mentioned the humor yet. Such a serious book in some ways that examines weighty issues, but I laughed out loud over and over again. This is Terry Pratchett at his best - and since this is Pratchett that means very, very, very good.

      If you enjoy audio books at all, you really ought to pick this up.
    • 4/5
      This is unlike any other Pratchett book I've read. There's hardly any dialogue in the opening and the setting is unique amongst all his books. It often reminded me of Lord of the Flies. I found myself wondering if the gash through the island was caused by the plane crash.It covers a lot of ground but centrally I suppose it's about faith and what happens when you lose it. The ending's tone is mismatched from the rest of the book, but don't let you put you off. This is a deep book and truly superb. It's almost as good as Mort!
    • 4/5
      A rare non-Discworld book by Pratchett. A young boy named Mau, is the only surviver when his village is washed away by a Tsunami. Until he finds Daphne, a British girl washed ashore by the storm. Together they struggle to survive and rebuild a sense of community.In the beginning Mau's story reminded me of "Island of the Blue Dolphins" by Scott O'Dell (1961). But as more survivers gather on the island it began to resemble "Lord of the Flies" by William Golding (1954). Luckily it doesn't go that badly. Sir Pratchett takes the whole story in a new and surprizing direction with a happy ending (a little too happy in some ways). I class this book as fantasy only because it takes place in an alternate reality from ours; but it is not a magical reality. Some people might classify it as alternate history science fiction.
    • 5/5
      It took me a while to get around to reading this. I think I was putting it off because it wasn't a Discworld novel, and I'm a huge fan of Discworld. But it does exactly the same thing that all my favorite Discworld books do - takes some major issue that we face in our society, and transplants it into a fictional context where you can leave all your prejudices and pre-conceived notions behind, and actually look at the issue with unclouded eyes. And somehow he manages to wrap all this social commentary in a gorgeous little story that is so much fun to read that I could hardly put it down.
    • 4/5
      I've been putting off writing this review because I have complicated feeling about this book. Unlike most Pratchett books, this one took me a while to get through. While the humor and great characters are all there, this book has an undercurrent of anger, and the subject of that anger is one I struggle with myself often. So this book hit close to the bone for me.Like most of Pratchett's "young adult" books, this one is more than challenging enough for adults. The themes, in particular, are very heavy. But children reading at a more surface level will enjoy the interesting story, comedic moments, and the respect Pratchett shows his younger readers.Recommended for all.
    • 5/5
      This is the second non-Discworld Pratchett book I've read and I loved it. Though a bit more restrained then his usual work it fit the tone of the book perfectly. Highly recommend this book to everyone.
    • 5/5
      To start, I should just mention that I'm not a discworld fan. I've read Mort and a couple others, and they just don't do it for me. That said, Good Omens is one of my favorite books ever. That said, the only reason I picked this up was due to Patrick Rothfuss proclaiming "it's a gift from god."It is.This book was brilliant. I only wish it had been around was a kid so that I could have read it with the naivety of youth. Still, I was very impressed at how well Pratchett mixed his offbeat humour with a more driving narrative than I've grown to expect from him. His experience and talent as a writer shine through in this book.
    • 5/5
      Due to a tsunami, Daphne, a gentlebred white girl gets stuck on an island with a native called Mau who is the last of his tribe. Together, they slowly start to rebuild what was left on the island.Nation was my introduction to Partchett's writing and I did not come away disappointed. Nation is a great book exploring all sorts of subjects like morality, religion, and colonalization. But don't let those things turn you off from this book! The characters are great and human. The story is well done and I hope to read more of Pratchett's work in the near future.

    Book preview

    Nation - Terry Pratchett

    DEDICATION

    For Lyn

    CONTENTS

    Dedication

    HOW IMO MADE THE WORLD

    Chapter 1    THE PLAGUE

    Chapter 2    THE NEW WORLD

    Chapter 3    CALENTURE

    Chapter 4    BARGAINS, COVENANTS, AND PROMISES

    Chapter 5    THE MILK THAT HAPPENS

    Chapter 6    A STAR IS BORN

    Chapter 7    DIVING FOR GODS

    Chapter 8    IT TAKES A LIFETIME TO LEARN HOW TO DIE

    Chapter 9    ROLLING THE STONE

    Chapter 10  BELIEVING IS SEEING

    Chapter 11  CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS

    Chapter 12  CANNON AND POLITICS

    Chapter 13  TRUCE

    Chapter 14  DUEL

    Chapter 15  THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN

    TODAY

    AUTHOR’S NOTE

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    HOW IMO MADE THE WORLD, IN THE TIME

    WHEN THINGS WERE OTHERWISE AND

    THE MOON WAS DIFFERENT

    Imo set out one day to catch some fish, but there was no sea. There was nothing but Imo. So he spat in his hands and rubbed them together and made a ball of sea. After that he made some fish, but they were stupid and lazy. So he took the souls of some dolphins, who at least had learned to speak, and he mixed them with clay and rubbed them in his hands and changed their shape and they became people. They were clever but they could not swim all day, so Imo dug some more clay and rubbed it in his hands and baked it in the fire of his fishing camp, and that was how the land was made.

    Soon the people filled all the lands and were hungry, so Imo took some of the night and rubbed it in his hands and made Locaha, the god of death.

    Still Imo was not satisfied, and he said: I have been like a child playing in the sand. This is a flawed world. I had no plan. Things are wrong. I will rub it in my hands and make a better one.

    But Locaha said:The mud is set. People will die.

    Imo was angry and said:Who are you to question me?

    And Locaha said: I am a part of you, as are all things. So I say to you, Give me the mortal world, and go and make your better one. I will rule here fairly. When a human dies, I will send them to be a dolphin until it is time for them to be born again. But when I find a creature who has striven, who has become more than the mud from which they were made, who has glorified this mean world by being a part of it, then I will open a door for them into your perfect world and they will no longer be creatures of time, for they will wear stars.

    Imo thought this was a good idea, because it was his own creation, and went off to make his new world in the sky. But before he did this, and so that Locaha would not have things all his own way, he breathed into his hands and made the other gods so that while the people should die, it would be in their right time.

    And this is why we are born in water, and do not kill dolphins, and look toward the stars.

    CHAPTER 1

    The Plague

    THE SNOW CAME DOWN so thickly, it formed fragile snowballs in the air that tumbled and melted as soon as they landed on the horses lined up along the dock. It was four in the morning and the place was coming alive and Captain Samson had never seen the dock in such a bustle. The cargo was flying out of the ship, literally; the cranes strained in their efforts to get the bales out as quickly as possible. The ship stank of the disinfectant already, stank of the stuff. Every man who came on board was so drenched in it that it dribbled out of his boots. But that wasn’t enough; some of them had squelched aboard with big, heavy spray cans that spat an acid-pink fog over everything.

    And there was nothing Captain Samson could do about it. The agent for the owners was right there on the dockside with his orders in his hands. But Captain Samson was going to try.

    Do you really think we’re infectious, Mr. Blezzard? he barked to the man on the dock. I can assure you—

    You are not infectious, Captain, as far as we know, but this is for your own good, shouted the agent through his enormous megaphone. And I must once again warn you and your men not to leave the ship!

    We have families, Mr. Blezzard!

    "Indeed, and they are already being taken care of. Believe me, Captain, they are fortunate, and so will you be, if you follow orders. You must return to Port Mercia at dawn. I cannot stress enough how important this is."

    Impossible! It’s the other side of the world! We’ve only been back a few hours! We are low on food and water!

    "You will set sail at dawn and rendezvous in the Channel with the Maid of Liverpool, just returned from San Francisco. Company men are aboard her now. They will give you everything you need. They will strip that ship to the waterline to see that you are properly provisioned and crewed!"

    The captain shook his head. This is not good enough, Mr. Blezzard. What you are asking—it’s too much. I— Good God, man, I need more authority than some words shouted through a tin tube!

    "I think you will find me all the authority you need, Captain. Do I have your permission to come aboard?"

    The captain knew that voice.

    It was the voice of God, or the next best thing. But although he recognized the voice, he hardly recognized the speaker standing at the foot of the gangplank. That was because he was wearing a sort of birdcage. At least, that’s what it looked like at first sight. Closer to, he could see that it was a fine metal framework with a thin gauze around it. The person inside walked in a shimmering cloud of disinfectant.

    Sir Geoffrey? said the captain, just to be sure, as the man began to walk slowly up the glistening gangplank.

    "Indeed, Captain. I’m sorry about this outfit. It’s called a salvation suit, for obvious reasons. It is necessary for your protection. The Russian influenza has been worse than you can possibly imagine! We believe the worst is over, but it has taken a terrible toll at every level of society. Every level, Captain. Believe me."

    There was something in the way the chairman said every that made the captain hesitate.

    I take it that His Majesty is . . . isn’t— He stopped, unable to force the rest of the question out of his mouth.

    Not only His Majesty, Captain. I said ‘worse than you can possibly imagine,’ said Sir Geoffrey, while red disinfectant dripped off the bottom of the salvation suit and puddled on the deck like blood. Listen to me. The only reason the country is not in total chaos at this moment is that most people are too scared to venture out. As chairman of the line, I order you—and as an old friend, I beg you—for the sake of the Empire, sail with the devil’s speed to Port Mercia and find the governor. Then you will— Ah, here come your passengers. This way, gentlemen.

    Two more carriages had pulled up in the chaos of the dockside. Five shrouded figures came up the gangplank, carrying large boxes between them, and lowered them onto the deck.

    Who are you, sir? the captain demanded of the nearest stranger, who said:

    You don’t need to know that, Captain.

    Oh, don’t I, indeed! Captain Samson turned to Sir Geoffrey with his hands open in appeal. "Goddammit, Chairman, pardon my French, have I not served the line faithfully for more than thirty-five years? I am the captain of the Cutty Wren, sir! A captain must know his ship and all that is on it! I will not be kept in the dark, sir! If I cannot be trusted, I will walk down the gangplank right now!"

    Please don’t upset yourself, Captain, said Sir Geoffrey. He turned to the leader of the newcomers. Mr. Black? The captain’s loyalty is beyond question.

    Yes, I was hasty. My apologies, Captain, said Mr. Black, but we need to requisition your ship for reasons of the utmost urgency, hence the regrettable lack of formality.

    Are you from the government? the captain snapped.

    Mr. Black looked surprised. The government? I am afraid not. Just between us, there is little of the government left at the moment, and what there is is mostly hiding in its cellars. No, to be honest with you, the government has always found it convenient not to know much about us, and I would advise you to do the same.

    Oh, really? I was not born yesterday, you know—

    No indeed, Captain, you were born forty-five years ago, the second son of Mr. and Mrs. Bertie Samson, and christened Lionel after your grandfather, said Mr. Black, calmly lowering his package to the deck.

    The captain hesitated again. That had sounded like the start of a threat; the fact that no actual threat followed made it, for some reason, quite discomfiting.

    Anyway, who do you work for? he managed. I like to know who I’m sailing with.

    Mr. Black straightened up. As you wish. We are known as the Gentlemen of Last Resort. We serve the Crown. Does that help you?

    But I thought the king was— The captain stopped, not wanting to say the dreadful word.

    "He is dead, Captain Samson. But the Crown itself is not. Let us say that we serve . . . a higher purpose? And to that purpose, Captain, I will tell you that your men will get four times their usual pay for this trip, plus ten guineas a day for every day under the record for the run to Port Mercia, plus a further one hundred guineas on their return. The promotion prospects for every man and officer on board will be much improved. You, Captain, will of course receive enhanced payments as befits your rank and, since we understand your plan is to retire shortly, the Crown will certainly wish to show its gratitude in the traditional way."

    Behind him, Sir Geoffrey spoke and coughed at the same time: "coughknighthoodcough."

    I’m sure Mrs. Samson would like that, said Mr. Black.

    It was like torture. Captain Samson had a mental picture of what would happen if Mrs. Samson ever found out that he had turned down the chance of her becoming Lady Samson. It didn’t bear thinking about. He stared at the man who called himself Mr. Black and said quietly: Is something going to happen? Are you trying to prevent something?

    Yes, Captain. War. The heir to the throne must set foot on English soil within nine months of the monarch’s death. It’s in the Magna Carta, down in the small print or, rather, the tiny writing. The barons didn’t want another Richard the Lionheart, you see. And regrettably, since an infected waiter served the soup at the king’s birthday party, the next two living heirs to the throne are both somewhere in the Great Southern Pelagic Ocean. I believe you know it well, Captain?

    Ah, I understand now! That’s what’s in those boxes, said the captain, pointing. It’s a load of English soil! We find him, he sets foot on it, and we all shout hurrah!

    Mr. Black smiled. "Well done, Captain! I am impressed! But, alas, that has already been thought of. There is a subclause, too. It stipulates that the English soil must be firmly attached to England. We may declare the succession overseas—even crown the man if necessary—but his presence will be required on English soil within the time period for full ratification."

    You know, Mr. Black, I thought I knew all of the Magna Carta, but I’ve never heard of these clauses, said Sir Geoffrey.

    No, sir, said the Gentleman of Last Resort patiently. "That is because they are in the ratified version. You don’t think barons who could hardly write their names could come up with a complete set of sensible rules for the proper running of a large country for the rest of history, do you? Their clerks put together the full working Magna Carta a month later. It’s seventy times bigger, but it is foolproof. Unfortunately, the French have a copy."

    Why? asked the captain. Yet another coach had pulled up on the dockside. It looked expensive and had a crest painted on the door.

    Because if you don’t succeed in this enterprise, Captain, it will then be quite likely that a Frenchman will become king of England, said Mr. Black.

    What? shouted the captain, forgetting all about the new coach. No one would stand for that!

    Wonderful people, the French, wonderful people, said Sir Geoffrey hurriedly, waving his hands. Our allies in the recent unpleasantness in the Crimea and all that, but—

    Oh, we are the best of chums with the French government on this one, sir, said Mr. Black. The last thing they want to see is a Frenchman on any throne, anywhere. It wouldn’t do for our Gallic brethren. There are those in France who do, though, and we think it would be a good thing for all concerned if our new monarch could be brought here with a minimum of fuss and a maximum of speed.

    They killed the last king they had! said Captain Samson, who wasn’t going to waste a good rage. My father fought against ’em at Trafalgar! Can’t have that, sir, not at any price. I can speak for the men on that, sir! We’ll break the record again, sir, coming and going! He looked around for Sir Geoffrey, but the chairman had hurried down the gangplank and was fussing around two veiled figures who had gotten out of the coach.

    Are they . . . women? asked the captain as they swept up onto the Cutty Wren’s deck and went past him as if he were of no importance whatsoever.

    Mr. Black shook some snow off his own veil. The smaller one is a maid, and I take it on trust that she is a woman. The tall one, whom your chairman is so eager to please, is a major stockholder in your shipping line and, more importantly, is also the mother of the heir. She is a lady indeed, although my limited experience of her suggests that she is also a mixture of the warrior queen Boadicea without the chariot, Catherine de’ Medici without the poisoned rings, and Attila the Hun without his wonderful sense of fun. Do not play cards with her, because she cheats like a Mississippi bustout dealer, keep sherry away from her, do everything she says, and we might all live.

    Sharp tongue, eh?

    "Razor blade, Captain. On a lighter note, it is possible that en route we might catch up with the heir’s daughter, who thankfully was already well on the way to join her father before the plague struck. She is due to leave Cape Town today on the schooner Sweet Judy, bound for Port Mercia via Port Advent. The captain is Nathan Roberts. I believe you know him?"

    "What, old ‘Hallelujah’ Roberts? Is he still afloat? Good man, mark you, one of the best, and the Sweet Judy is a very trim vessel. The girl is in safe hands, depend upon it. The captain smiled. I hope she likes hymns, though. I wonder if he still makes the crew do all their swearing into a barrel of water in the hold?"

    Keenly religious, is he? asked Mr. Black as they headed toward the warmth of the main cabin.

    Just a tad, sir, just a tad.

    In the case of Roberts, Captain, how big is a ‘tad’?

    Captain Samson grinned. Oh, something about the size of Jerusalem. . . .

    At the other end of the world the sea burned, the wind howled, and roaring night covered the face of the deep.

    It takes an unusual man to make up a hymn in a hurry, but such a man was Captain Roberts. He knew every hymn in The Antique and Contemporary Hymn Book, and sang his way through them loudly and joyously when he was on watch, which had been one of the reasons for the mutiny.

    And now, with the End of the World at hand, and the skies darkening at dawn, and the fires of Revelation raining down and setting the rigging ablaze, Captain Roberts tied himself to the ship’s wheel as the sea rose below him and felt the Sweet Judy lifted into the sky as if by some almighty hand.

    There was thunder and lightning up there. Hail rattled off his hat. St. Elmo’s fire glowed on the tip of every mast and then crackled on the captain’s beard as he began to sing in a rich dark baritone. Every sailor knew the song: "Eternal Father, strong to save, Whose arm hath bound the restless wave," he bellowed into the storm, as the Judy balanced on the restless wave like a ballerina. "Who bidd’st the mighty ocean deep Its own appointed limits keep . . ."

    How fast were they moving? he wondered as sails ripped and flapped away. The wave was as high as a church, but surely it was running faster than the wind! He could see small islands below, disappearing as the wave roared over them. This was no time to stop praising the Lord!

    "Oh hear us when we cry to Thee, For those in peril on the sea," he finished, and stopped and stared ahead.

    There was something big and dark out there, coming closer very quickly. It would be impossible to steer around it. It was too big, and in any case the helm didn’t answer. He was holding it as an act of faith, to show God that he would not desert Him and hoped that in return God would not desert Captain Roberts. He swung the wheel as he began the next verse, and lightning illuminated a path across the restless wave—and there, in the light of the burning sky, was a gap, a valley or cleft in the wall of rock, like the miracle of the Red Sea, thought Captain Roberts, only, of course, the other way around.

    The next flash of lightning showed that the gap was full of forest. But the wave would hit it at treetop height. It’d slow down. They might just be saved, even now, in the very jaws of Hell. And here they came. . . .

    And so it was that the schooner Sweet Judy sailed through a rain forest, with Captain Roberts, inspired to instant creativity, making up a new verse explicably missing from the original hymn: Oh Thou who built’st the mountains high, To be the pillars of the sky— He wasn’t totally certain about built’st, but bidd’st was apparently acceptable—Who gave the mighty forests birth—branches cracked like gunshots under the keel, thick vines snatched at what remained of the masts—

    And made a Garden of the Earth—fruit and leaves rained down on the deck, but a shudder meant that a broken tree had ripped away part of the hull, spilling the ballast—We pray to Thee to stretch Thy hand—Captain Roberts gripped the useless wheel tighter, and laughed at the roaring dark—To those in peril on the land.

    And three great fig trees, whose buttressed roots had withstood centuries of cyclones, raced out of the future and came as a big surprise. His last thought was: Perhaps who raised the mountains high would have been a better line in the circums—

    Captain Roberts went to Heaven, which wasn’t everything that he’d expected, and as the receding water gently marooned the wreck of the Sweet Judy on the forest floor, only one soul was left alive. Or possibly two, if you like parrots.

    On the day the world ended Mau was on his way home. It was a journey of more than twenty miles. But he knew the way, oh yes. If you didn’t know the way, you weren’t a man. And he was a man . . . well, nearly. He’d lived for a month on the island of the boys, hadn’t he? Just surviving on that place was enough to make you a man. . . .

    Well, surviving and then getting back.

    No one ever told you about the Boys’ Island, not properly. You picked up stuff as you grew, but there was one thing you learned very soon:

    The point about the Boys’ Island was that you got away from the Boys’ Island. You left your boy soul there and were given a man soul when you got back to the Nation.

    You had to get back—otherwise something terrible happened: If you didn’t get back in thirty days, they came and fetched you, and you’d never be a man, not really. The boys said it would be better to drown than be fetched. Everyone would know you’d failed, and you’d probably never get a wife, and if you did get a wife, she’d be a woman none of the real men wanted, with bad teeth and smelly breath.

    Mau had lain awake for weeks worrying about this. You were allowed to take only your knife to the island, and he had nightmares about building a canoe in thirty days with just a knife. It couldn’t be done. But all the men in the Nation had done it, so there had to be a way, didn’t there?

    On his second day on the Boys’ Island he’d found it.

    There was a god anchor in the middle of the island, a brown stone cube half buried in sand and soil. Heavy vines grew over it and wrapped around a huge tabago tree. Carved deeply into the tree’s dry bark, in the language for children, were the signs: MEN HELP OTHER MEN. Next to it, wedged into the wood, was an alaki, a carved black stone on a long handle. Hold it one way, it was an axe. Hold it the other, it was an adze, good for hollowing out a log.

    He pulled out the axe and learned the lesson. So had many other boys; Mau climbed the tree one evening and found the hundreds of marks all the way up the trunk where generations of grateful boys had left the axe, or one like it, for those who came after. Some of them would be Grandfathers now, up in the cave on the mountain, back home.

    They would be watching, with eyes that could see for miles, and perhaps they watched him when he discovered the log, well seasoned, and not too well hidden among the pandanuses at the back of the little island. When he got home he’d say he found it, and everyone would say that was lucky, and perhaps the gods had put it there. Now that he came to think about it, his father and a couple of his uncles had gone off fishing near the island early one morning without inviting him to come with them. . . .

    It had been a good time. He knew how to make fire, and he’d found the little freshwater spring. He’d made a spear good enough to get fish from the lagoon. And he’d made a good canoe, firm and light, with an outrigger. All you had to build was something that would get you home, but he’d worked on this canoe with knife and skateskin so that it whispered over the water.

    He hadn’t rushed his last day as a boy. His father had told him not to. Clean up the camp, he’d said. Soon you will belong to a wife and children. That will be fine. But sometimes you will look back fondly on your last day as a boy. Make it a warm memory, and be back in time for the feast.

    The camp was so clean that you wouldn’t know he’d been there. Now he stood in front of the ancient tabago tree for the last time, the axe in his hand and, he was sure, the Grandfathers looking over his shoulder.

    It was going to be perfect, he knew. Last night the stars of Air, Fire, and Water had been in the sky together. It was a good time for new beginnings.

    He found a clear place in the soft bark and raised the axe. For a moment his eye caught the little blue bead tied to his wrist; it would keep him safe on the journey home. His father had told him how proud he’d be on his way back. But he would need to be careful and not draw the attention of any gods or spirits to himself. It was not good to be between souls. He’d be like mihei gawi, the little blue hermit crab, scuttling from his shell to a new one once a year, easy prey for any passing squid.

    It was not a nice thought, but he had a good canoe and a calm sea, and he would scuttle fast, oh yes! He swung the axe as hard as he could, thinking: Hah! The next boy to pull this out will deserve to be called a man.

    Men help other men! he shouted as the stone hit the bark.

    He’d meant it to have an effect. It did, far more than he expected. From every corner of the little island, birds exploded into the air like a cloud of bees. Finches and waders and ducks rose out of the bushes and filled the air with panic and feathers. Some of the larger ones headed out to sea, but most of them just circled, as though terrified to stay but with nowhere else to go.

    Mau walked through them as he went down to the beach. Bright wings zipped past his face like hail, and it would have been wondrously pretty if it weren’t for the fact that every single bird was taking this opportunity to have a really good crap. If you’re in a hurry, there is no point in carrying unnecessary weight.

    Something was wrong. He could feel it in the air, in the sudden calm, in the way the world felt suddenly as though something heavy was pressing down on it.

    And now it hit Mau, knocking him flat on the sand. His head was trying to explode. It was worse even than that time when he’d played the stone game and had hung on too long. Something was weighing down on the world like a big gray rock.

    Then the pain went as fast as it had it come, with a zip, leaving him gasping and dazed. And still the birds swarmed overhead.

    As Mau staggered to his feet, all he knew was that here was not a good place to be anymore, and if it was the only thing he knew, then at least he knew it with every nail and hair of his body.

    Thunder rolled in the clear sky, one great hard jolt of it that rattled off the horizon. Mau staggered down to the tiny lagoon while the noise went on, and there was the canoe waiting for him in the white sand of the water’s edge. But the usually calm water was . . . dancing, dancing like water danced under heavy rain, although no rain was falling.

    He had to get away. The canoe sloped easily into the water, and he paddled frantically for the gap in the reef that led to the open sea. Beneath him and around him, fish were doing the same thing—

    The sound went on, like something solid, smashing into the air and breaking it. It filled the whole of the sky. For Mau it was like a giant slap on the ears. He tried to paddle faster, and then the thought rose in his mind: Animals flee. His father had told him so. Boys flee. A man does not flee. He turns to look at his enemy, to watch what he does and find his weakness.

    Mau let the canoe slide out of the lagoon and easily rode the surf into the ocean, and then he looked around, like a man.

    The horizon was one great cloud, boiling and climbing, full of fire and lightning and growling like a nightmare.

    A wave crashed in the coral, and that was wrong too. Mau knew the sea, and there was also something wrong with that. The Boys’ Island was falling way behind him, because a terrible current was dragging him toward the great bag of storms. It was as if the horizon was drinking the sea.

    Men looked at their enemy, yes, but sometimes they turned around and paddled like mad.

    It made no difference. The sea was sliding and then, suddenly, was dancing again, like the water in the lagoon. Mau, trying to think straight, fought to get the canoe under control.

    He’d get back. Of course he would. He could see the picture in his head, small and clear. He turned it around, savoring the taste of it.

    Everyone would be there. Everyone. There could be no exceptions. Old, sick men would prefer to die on mats at the water’s edge rather than not be there; women would give birth there if they had to, while watching for the homecoming canoe. It was unthinkable to miss the arrival of a new man. That would bring down terrible bad luck on the whole Nation.

    His father would be watching for him at the edge of the reef, and they’d bring the canoe up the beach, and his uncles would come running, and the new young men would rush to congratulate him, and the boys he’d left behind would be envious, and his mother and the other women would start on the feast, and there would be the . . . thing with the sharp knife, where you didn’t scream, and then . . . there would be everything.

    And if he could just hold it in his mind, then it would be so. There was a shining silver thread connecting him to that future. It would work like a god anchor, which stopped the gods from wandering away.

    Gods, that was it! This was coming from the Gods’ Island. It was over the horizon and you couldn’t see it even from here, but the old men said it had roared, back in the long ago, and there had been rough water and a lot of smoke and thunder because the Fire god was angry. Maybe he’d gotten angry again.

    The cloud was reaching up to the top of the sky, but there was something new down at sea level. It was a dark gray line, getting bigger. A wave? Well, he knew about waves. You attacked them before they attacked you. He’d learned how to play with them. Don’t let them tumble you. Use them. Waves were easy.

    But this one was not acting like the normal waves at the mouth of the reef. It seemed as though it was standing still.

    He stared at it and realized what he was seeing. It looked as if it

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