The Elfin Ship by James P. Blaylock Page A

occurred to him for the briefest of moments that there never
had
been a raft at all, and he felt a strange relief momentarily as if he had awakened to find out that the dark fears of a nightmare had been just that – a dream.
    Suddenly the Professor shouted ‘Foul play!’ and began examining the frayed ends of the trailing ropes that had tied the raft to the dock.
    ‘Dooly wouldn’t have played us foul,’ Jonathan responded. ‘He’s a peculiar enough lad, to be sure, but as trustworthy as either of us.’
    ‘Not Dooly,’ said the Professor, holding the rope end aloft. ‘These ropes have been chewed through. Our raft was set adrift.’
    ‘By the powers!’ cried Jonathan, remembering that old Ahab was aboard. ‘The fiends. It was those mice and the toad. They’ve done this out of spite for us having scattered them on our way into town.’
    The Professor gave Jonathan a sidewise look. ‘Mice and toads don’t do things out of spite. They don’t think up reasons. I fear that our friend Gosset is correct. Something has come upon the land!’
    ‘There you go again. Things “walking abroad” and “coming upon the land”. It’s enough to make a body tired. Our raft, somehow, has come upon the river, and we’ve got to go get it.’ Jonathan began striding back and forth trying to think. But the more he tried, the harder it became. Following the river overland wouldn’t do, for beyond Hightower travel was wretchedly slow and the two of them, even on horseback, if they had horses, would have to pick their way along the treacherous paths of the Goblin Wood: they might never catch up with the raft until Seaside. What they needed, clearly, was an airship full of elves, but such a thing wasn’t to be had. Jonathan furrowed his brow and continued to stride about. The Professor didn’t seem nearly as perturbed.
    ‘We’d better start walking, my boy,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders with an air of finality.
    ‘Where?’ cried Jonathan.
    ‘Why downriver, of course. Dooly must have been napping, but he’ll put in to shore as soon as he finds he’s adrift. There may be precious little sleep for the two of us tonight though if he puts in much below the village.’
    ‘Dooly!’ shouted Jonathan. Of course. He felt a fool. Dooly was on board and would eventually put in to shore. The filthy mice didn’t know they had Dooly on board. Good old stowaway Dooly!
    Then from up the hill toward town in the darkness of the unlit road, the two heard a shout, as if someone was hailing them. A lone figure came jogging down toward the harbor in a wild side-legged run shouting, ‘Ho, Mr Cheeser! Ho, Professor!’ The two on the dock felt their hearts sink as Dooly, out of breath, lurched up and looked with amazement at the empty dockside. ‘The raft is gone!’
    ‘And Ahab on it,’ said Jonathan. ‘We’ll have to walk aways downriver before Ahab puts into shore.’
    Dooly was in a state. ‘Oh, Mr Bing Cheese,’ he almost wept, ‘they said you wanted to speak to me. They said you and the Professor had need of me, so I come right along. I said to myself: if you please, Dooly, says I, don’t hesitate. Bung right along. And I did, but I couldn’t find neither one of you and no one would say a thing when I asked them.’
    ‘Who told you such a thing?’ asked Jonathan, flabbergasted.
    ‘It doesn’t matter now,’ the Professor broke in. ‘We have to go after that raft.’
    ‘We need a canoe, that’s what. A canoe for the three of us.’ Jonathan looked about, noting several that were tied up in the harbor.
    ‘My old grandpa would find one and would have it too. Borrow it if he had to,’ Dooly chimed in. ‘Like that one there, down along the rocks.’
    ‘We can’t just go stealing a man’s canoe,’ said Jonathan, even as the three of them were heading for it.
    ‘I think we’d best follow the example of Dooly’s grandfather in this case,’ said the Professor. ‘I’ll leave my card, though, here under a