Crimson Rivers [1] - Percy jackson

Chapter 12: Clarisse Blows Up Everything

‘You are in so much trouble,’ Clarisse said.

We’d just finished a ship tour we didn’t want, through dark rooms overcrowded with dead sailors. We’d seen the coal bunker, the boilers and engine, which huffed and groaned like it would explode any minute. We’d seen
the pilot house and the powder magazine and gunnery deck (Clarisse’s favourite) with two Dahlgren smoothbore cannons on the port and starboard sides and a Brooke nine-inch rifled gun fore and aft – all specially refitted to fire celestial bronze cannonballs.

Everywhere we went, dead Confederate sailors stared at us, their ghostly
bearded faces shimmering over their skulls. They approved of Annabeth because she told them she was from Virginia. They were interested in Percy, too, because his name was Jackson – like the Southern general – but then he ruined it by telling them he was from New York. They all hissed and muttered curses about Yankees.

Tyson was terrified of them. All through the tour, he insisted Annabeth hold
his hand, which she didn’t look too thrilled about. Finally, we were escorted to dinner. The CSS Birmingham captain’s quarters were about the size of a walk-in closet, but still much bigger than any other room on board. The table was set with white linen and china. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, potato chips and Dr Peppers were served by skeletal crewmen. I didn’t want to eat anything served by ghosts, but my hunger overruled my fear.

‘Tantalus expelled you for eternity,’ Clarisse told us smugly. ‘Mr D said if any of you show your face at camp again, he’ll turn you into squirrels and run you over with his SUV. I tried to get him to let you back Syrus but your silly bond prevented it.’

‘Did they give you this ship?’ Percy asked.

‘Course not. My father did.’

‘Ares?’

Clarisse sneered. ‘You think your daddy is the only one with sea power? The
spirits on the losing side of every war owe a tribute to Ares. That’s their curse
for being defeated. I prayed to my father for a naval transport and here it is. These guys will do anything I tell them. Won’t you, Captain?’

The captain stood behind her looking stiff and angry. His glowing green eyes
fixed me with a hungry stare. ‘If it means an end to this infernal war, ma’am, peace at last, we’ll do anything. Destroy anyone.'

Clarisse smiled. ‘Destroy anyone. I like that.’

Tyson gulped. ‘Clarisse,’ Annabeth said, ‘Luke might be after the Fleece, too. We saw him. He’s got the coordinates and he’s heading south. He has a cruise ship full of monsters –’

‘Good! I’ll blow him out of the water.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Annabeth said. ‘We have to combine forces. Let us
help you –’

‘No!’ Clarisse pounded the table. ‘This is my quest, smart girl! Finally I get to
be the hero, and you two will not steal my chance.’

‘Where are your cabin mates?’ I asked. 'You were allowed to take two friends
with you, weren’t you?’

‘They didn’t … I let them stay behind. To protect the camp.’

‘You mean even the people in your own cabin wouldn’t help you?’ Percy cut in crudely

‘Shut up, Prissy! I don’t need them! Or you!’

‘Clarisse,’ I said, ‘Tantalus is using you. He doesn’t care about the camp. He’d
love to see it destroyed. He’s setting you up to fail.’

‘No! I don’t care what the Oracle –’ She stopped herself.

‘What?’ I said. ‘What did the Oracle tell you?’

‘Nothing.’ Clarisse’s ears turned pink. ‘All you need to know is that I’m finishing this quest and you’re not helping. On the other hand, I can’t let you go…’

‘So we’re prisoners?’ Annabeth asked
.
‘Guests. For now.’ Clarisse propped her feet up on the white linen tablecloth
and opened another Dr Pepper. ‘Captain, take them below. Assign them hammocks on the berth deck. If they don’t mind their manners, show them how we deal with enemy spies.’

The dream came as soon as I fell asleep.
Grover was sitting at his loom, desperately unravelling his wedding train, when the boulder door rolled aside and the Cyclops bellowed, ‘Aha!’

Grover yelped. ‘Dear! I didn’t – you were so quiet!’

‘Unravelling!’ Polyphemus roared. ‘So that’s the problem!’

‘Oh, no. I-I wasn’t –’

‘Come!’ Polyphemus grabbed Grover around the waist and half carried, half
dragged him through the tunnels of the cave. Grover struggled to keep his high
heels on his hooves. His veil kept tilting on his head, threatening to come off.
The Cyclops pulled him into a warehouse-size cavern decorated with sheep junk. There was a wool-covered Lay-Z-Boy recliner and a wool-covered
television set, crude bookshelves loaded with sheep collectibles – coffee mugs
shaped like sheep faces, plaster figurines of sheep, sheep board games and
picture books and action figures. The floor was littered with piles of sheep
bones, and other bones that didn’t look exactly like sheep – the bones of satyrs
who’d come to the island looking for Pan.

Polyphemus set Grover down only long enough to move another huge boulder. Daylight streamed into the cave, and Grover whimpered with longing.
Fresh air! The Cyclops dragged him outside to a hilltop overlooking the most beautiful island I’d ever seen. It was shaped kind of like a saddle cut in half by an axe. There were lush green hills on either side and a wide valley in the middle, split by a deep chasm that was spanned by a rope bridge. Beautiful streams rolled to the edge of the
canyon and dropped off in rainbow-coloured waterfalls. Parrots fluttered in the trees. Pink and purple flowers bloomed on the bushes. Hundreds of sheep grazed
in the meadows, their wool glinting strangely like copper and silver coins.
And at the centre of the island, right next to the rope bridge, was an enormous twisted oak tree with something glittering in its lowest bough. The Golden Fleece.

Even in a dream, I could feel its power radiating across the island, making the
grass greener, the flowers more beautiful. I could almost smell the nature magic at work. I could only imagine how powerful the scent would be for a satyr. Grover whimpered.
‘Yes,’ Polyphemus said proudly. ‘See over there? Fleece is the prize of my
collection! Stole it from heroes long ago, and ever since – free food! Satyrs
come from all over the world, like moths to flame. Satyrs good eating! And now
–’

Polyphemus scooped up a wicked set of bronze shears. Grover yelped, but Polyphemus just picked up the nearest sheep like it was a stuffed animal and shaved off its wool. He handed a fluffy mass of it to Grover. ‘Put that on the spinning wheel!’ he said proudly. ‘Magic. Cannot be unravelled.’

‘Oh … well…’

‘Poor Honeypie!’ Polyphemus grinned. ‘Bad weaver. Ha-ha! Not to worry. That thread will solve problem. Finish wedding train by tomorrow!’

‘Isn’t that … thoughtful of you!’