Page 44 of Dauntless

We didn’t know for sure what had happened in that tent in Antarctica—just like it was entirely possible that Henry Jessup’s diary didn’t tell the whole truth about the mutiny.But it sure painted a different picture than the one the Dauntless Islanders believed, and one of them had not only tried to kill me to prevent the truth from coming out, they’d also stolen the diary.

Which was stupid, because of course Theresa had scanned a copy.The loss of the original sucked because I’d had plans for that little book—plans of it taking pride of place in a new museum exhibit that reexamined the myth of theHMSDauntlessmutiny—but it wouldn’t change a damn thing about my thesis.

I sat down again, hugging my torso.

And hey, getting clobbered over the head and almost murdered over a centuries-old diary would sure as hell make a great story.Had I been spinning this wrong the whole time?Jesus.What if this could get me a feature article inHistory Today?Something like “Mutiny on Dauntless: How the discovery of a maritime diary led to assault and attempted murder.”But punchier, probably.

Nobody outside a very narrow field of historical study would give a shit about my thesis as it was, but the assault and the attempted murder?Nowthatwas interesting.That might even make the arts and culture section in the weekend newspapers.

Hell, what if this got me abook deal?

Heady thoughts of television appearances and book tours kept me warm for a little bit longer, and cleared the misery from my head, but it wasn’t long until the cold started to creep into my bones again.

I squinted into the night.

From here, the beam of the lighthouse was pencil-thin and sharp at its point of origin, then widening out into nothing as it was swallowed by the darkness.I thought of my tent, which I’d last seen at the bottom of the lighthouse.That tent would have been useful right about now, but I couldn’t go back there.Practically, I didn’t like the idea of traversing the island at night when I couldn’t see a fucking thing, but also...emotionally?

I wasn’t sure I could face Joe again, after what he’d?—

Wait.

Holy shit, I was stupid too.

I wasso fucking stupid.

The night I was attacked, the first night I stayed at Joe’s place, I’dtoldhim we had a digital copy of the diary.I’d told him, so he knew that, which meant...

The truth hit me in the back like a rampaging goat.

If that seemed like a weird analogy, it was because I couldn’t think of another one in the heat of the moment because I was, in fact, hit in the back by a rampaging goat.

* * *

“Please don’t kill me!”I yelled through a mouthful of sandy dirt and my rush of panic.“I don’t have the diary anymore!”

“Maaaaaah.”

What the actualfuck?

What sort of deranged murdererbleated?I rolled onto my back and squinted up at the looming figure that was not, it turned out, a killer.Or at least not the human variety.It had just proven that goats could be fairly homicidal.And fairly adorable too.

A whiskery snout snuffled my face, and I lifted a hand to scratch it.The goat huffed out a breath and shuffled closer.A sharp little hoof dug into my stomach, but there wasn’t much weight behind it.

“Oh, hey,” I said, easing the hoof off and sitting up slowly.Dirt slid down the back of my jacket, but after the night I’d had, I barely noticed.My heart rediscovered its regular rhythm after the adrenaline rush of thinking I was being attacked again, and the shaking in my hand slowly subsided.I blinked at the goat in the moonlight.It had floppy ears and tiny little nubs for horns.“You’re just a baby, aren’t you?Are you lost?Want a protein bar?”

It did want a protein bar.It also wanted the wrapper, a sock, and one of the straps off my backpack.

Yes, Ididcuddle a baby goat for warmth.Captain Oates would have done the same, if he’d had a baby goat handy.The goat was only small, and clearly not as feral as its first impression implied, because it fell asleep beside me with its head on my lap.

“Are you a descendant of theHMS Dauntlessgoats?”I asked it.“They had goats on ships in those days.Sometimes they released them on islands to breed, just in case someone got stranded.Too bad for the local ecosystem, right?But I guess they didn’t give a shit about the environment back then.”

The goat snored.

“Thank you for keeping me warm,” I said.“I was having a really bad night until you turned up and made it better.Bruised kidneys notwithstanding.”I slid a hand over the wiry hair on its flank.“I have so many bruises from this fucking island.And not to be melodramatic, but not just the visible ones either.That’s between you and me, by the way.”

I groaned as I thought of Joe again, and what a fucking idiot I was.Then I thought of Theresa, and how she’d told me once that I was “academically smart, but I’ve seen you get lost on three separate occasions in the library.”Which was true, but also very unfair.And look at me now!I’d used a map today and everything!Her point, though, was that for a smart guy I was also sometimes very, very stupid.

Today now was one of those times.

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