dies.
âThose, my friends,â says Uncle, âare the opening lines to âIn the Highlands,â a poem by the Scottish-born writer Robert Louis Stevenson. Not only was he a poet and writer, but also a playwright, composer of music and inveterate traveler. In July and August 1874, aboard a ship called the
Heron,
he cruised these very waters and passed the same islands that we are presently passing.
âBut his travels were not confined to his native Scotland. Stevenson journeyed to many parts of the world. Although for much of his short life he was afflicted by illness, he never stopped writing, traveling and marveling at the world around him.
âIn our own life journeys, we must retain the wonder and curiosity of a Robert Louis Stevenson. We must never let our sense of excitement and adventure wane. And we must teach these same qualities to our new recruits.â
My eyes wander toward Abbie. She is twirling a loose strand of hair. Her fingers are long and delicate, and I find myself staring at them. She catches me looking and raises her eyebrows slightly. I look away quickly.
âIn 1886,â Uncle continues, âStevenson wrote a novel that would later be acclaimed as one of the finest adventure stories ever written. In it, a lad awakens bound hand and foot on board a sailing ship. He is, as the bookâs title suggests, kidnapped. In todayâs final event, each of you will snatch a child between the ages of six and eleven years old for training as a new recruit. You will timeleap with him or her from this ship back to the Compound. It is now eight oâclock local time. You have exactly one half hour to complete the snatch.â
I canât do it.
I might as well pack my bags for the Barrens right now.
âBefore we adjourn, does anyone have any questions?â
No hands go up.
âAll right, then, we are adjourned. I will see you all back at the Compound with your guests. Your arrival time at the Compound will be October 5, 2061, at 7:30 P.M. â
Everyone gets up and starts filing out of the room.
âI canât do it, Abbie,â I say, once we are out of earshot of the others.
âYes you can,â she says. âYou donât have a choice.â
âI do have a choice. Iâll go back to 1950 or 1980 or, even better, 1880.â
âDonât you get it?â she says. âIf you try to run, heâll track you down again. If you donât do what he wants, heâll send you wherever he sent Raoul. Or worse. Besides, you being a hero isnât going to make one bit of difference. Lydia or Frank will gladly snatch an extra kid to make up for one you donât grab.â
âWhat about you?â I ask. âDonât you have a problem with it?â
âMaybe. Butââ
âMaybe? Thereâs no maybe. I will not kidnap a kid to help Uncle grow his business. Iâd rather die,â I say.
âWell, you just might get your wish,â she says before turning and stomping away.
May 24, 1978, 8:07 P.M.
Aboard the cruise ship Bonnie Prince Charlie
Inner Hebrides, off the coast of Scotland
I âve really done it now. Abbie probably wonât speak to me for a thousand years. But does she really expect that I can march into a cabin and snatch someoneâs kid? Thereâs no way I want anything to do with that.
I head out to the deck and lean over the rail. Itâs too dark to see the water, but I can hear it lapping against the side of the ship. The wind picks up and blows my hair back from my forehead.
A scuffle behind me catches my attention.
âLeave me alone, you minginâ bampots!â a voice shouts.
Good luck with that. Being left alone only works for people who have communicable diseases or eat stinky cheese. Everyone else is fair game for
not
being left alone.
But the owner of the voice doesnât appear to get that. Heâs cursing up a storm.
Many of the curses are standard
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley