"Shall we meet the human being as two proper guests of the house?" he asked.
They discovered the old gray-haired human caretaker in a large parlor where the man sang to himself as he dusted the furniture with a rag that reeked of pungent oil, completely oblivious to their presence until Dertu spoke to him.
"Our host has suggested we take the smaller of the two big boats," said Dertu to the old man. "He said he thought it would be easier to manage. Did he remember to have the gas tank filled?"
"Oh, the Benedicta," said the old man. "She's always fueled and ready to go." He was peering at Dertu and Derek through watery gray eyes. He smiled cordially. He looked utterly harmless in his sagging green cardigan with its brown patched elbows and old pants stained near the cuffs. "The master didn't tell me anyone was here. Why, I would have brought up your breakfast."
"I am starving," whispered Derek. "I cannot remember not being hungry."
"Well, you know our beloved host," said Dertu cheerfully to the old man. "Would he be insulted to be called an eccentric? Is there any food on the boat?"
The old man laughed. He slipped a pair of glasses out of his shirt pocket and peered at Dertu through thick lenses. "I think the master loves to be called eccentric," he said. "And yes, the refrigerator on the Benedicta is always stocked with the basics. That's the boat my wife and I use. The master drives the new one. The keys are in the boathouse office. You can't miss the boathouse. But I'll go down with you if you like."
"Not necessary," said Dertu. "How long will it take me to reach Oban?"
"Oban? Good Lord, young man, it will take you three hours in that boat just to reach Harris. You'll be at sea all day. Listen, why don't you go down and make yourselves at home on the boat? It has a fireplace, you know. And I'll pack up lunch and dinner for you. And whatever else you might need. You really should take a flight from Harris if you're determined to reach Oban. Unless you're in love with the sea."
"Thank you so much," said Dertu. "Now our gracious host said there was a laptop computer somewhere that I might take, and a cell phone."
"Well, he must have meant those he stored after Mr. Benedict left. There were a couple unopened. Now you go down and become acquainted with the boat, and I'll see what I can rustle up. You'll find wine and cheese in the refrigerator. Fruit juice, vitamin water. The bread's in the freezer. You just toast it, you see. And the Brie defrosts perfectly as well."
"You are very kind, indeed," said Dertu, grasping the man's hand, "and you must tell our gracious host we had the most splendid time, that we found his castle simply amazing, and not a single aspect of it was lost on our appreciation, to be sure. Come, Derek. Let's go."
The wind was whipping wildly around the great castle, as they made their way down the steep steps to the path. The path circled the caretaker's cottage and fields, and went down to the harbor. All around them the trees of the island were gray and twisted from the fierce wind, and the earth was wet from the recent rains.
"I'm free," Derek whispered to himself. But he couldn't feel the joy. He stopped, turning, and leaning into the wind, he looked up at the bleak hulk of the gray stone castle one last time. It filled him with fear as did the great churning gray sea all around him.
"I might have been imprisoned there forever," Derek whispered, and he could not feel it that he had escaped and he was free and that Dertu was with him.
"Come on, Father," said Dertu.
There were actually four different boats in the small port, three of which were cabin cruisers, and all being rocked violently against their moorings. The largest of the boats looked sinister to Derek, but the giant cabin cruiser, the Benedicta, looked substantial and heavy, and safe perhaps for the freezing sea.
Dertu marched down the pier to the boathouse, emerging a moment later with the keys held high in his hand.
He led the way onto the boat, and then helped Derek, relieving him of his suitcase and carrying both suitcases to the large salon. The salon resembled the images Derek had seen on the computer. Built-in furniture, striped couches, gleaming wood floor. The galley was as large as the salon, and there stood the giant refrigerator with its precious wine and food.
Dertu inspected everything, then took a bottle of brandy out of the bar, uncorked it, and offered it to his father.
"Not too much, just enough to make you warm."
"We cannot drink," said Derek.
"Yes, I know all about that and that you did and you have. All of you. You loved wine and beer and spirits when you came here to Earth. Now just a swallow. Go ahead."
Derek's hands were shaking. The boy had to steady the bottle for him.
"When we're at sea, when we're safe, I will become the man you want me to be, I promise you," Derek said.
"Just leave it all to me," said Dertu.
The brandy was liquid fire. But he loved it, loved the warmth in his throat and his chest. His eyes began to water. He took another swallow, some of the brandy spilling down his face.
Dertu climbed a short flight of narrow wooden steps and entered the upper control room, or bridge, or cockpit, or whatever they called it.
Derek followed, attempting to show support, but the whole venture terrified him. Dertu was excited. He sat down in one of two large white leather chairs and examined the wheel, the dials and gadgets and levers.
"And what if we drown at sea," Derek said. It was as if the words came out on their own. "Defeated again, both of us this time, and it's years before we come to the surface?" He took another gulp of the brandy. He felt elated suddenly. It was so good that the fear was almost entirely and instantly gone.