Rick Riordan
The Sea Monsters - 02
Riding the hippocampus was even easier than riding a pegasus. We zipped along with the
wind in our faces, speeding through the waves so smooth and steady I hardly needed to hold on at
all.
As we got closer to the cruise ship, I realized just how huge it was. I felt as though I were
looking up at a building in Manhattan. The white hull was at least ten stories tall, topped with
another dozen levels of decks with brightly lit balconies and portholes. The ship's name was painted
just above the bow line in black letters, lit with a spotlight. It took me a few seconds to decipher it:
PRINCESS ANDROMEDA
Attached to the bow was a huge masthead—a three-story-tall woman wearing a white Greek
chiton, sculpted to look as if she were chained to the front of the ship. She was young and beautiful,
with flowing black hair, but her expression was one of absolute terror. Why anybody would want a
screaming princess on the front of their vacation ship, I had no idea.
I remembered the myth about Andromeda and how she had been chained to a rock by her
own parents as a sacrifice to a sea monster. Maybe she'd gotten too many F's on her report card or
something. Anyway, my namesake, Perseus, had saved her just in time and turned the sea monster
to stone using the head of Medusa.
That Perseus always won. That's why my mom had named me after him, even though he
was a son of Zeus and I was a son of Poseidon. The original Perseus was one of the only heroes in
the Greek myths who got a happy ending. The others died—betrayed, mauled, mutilated, poisoned,
or cursed by the gods. My mom hoped I would inherit Perseus's luck. Judging by how my life was
going so far, I wasn't real optimistic.
"How do we get aboard?" Annabeth shouted over the noise of the waves, but the
hippocampi seemed to know what we needed. They skimmed along the starboard side of the ship,
riding easily through its huge wake, and pulled up next to a service ladder riveted to the side of the
hull.
"You first," I told Annabeth.
She slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and grabbed the bottom rung. Once she'd
hoisted herself onto the ladder, her hippocampus whinnied a farewell and dove underwater.
Annabeth began to climb. I let her get a few rungs up, then followed her.
Finally it was just Tyson in the water. His hippocampus was treating him to 360° aerials and
backward ollies, and Tyson was laughing so hysterically, the sound echoed up the side of the ship.
"Tyson, shhh!" I said. "Come on, big guy!"
"Can't we take Rainbow?" he asked, his smile fading.
I stared at him. "Rainbow?"
The hippocampus whinnied as if he liked his new name.
"Um, we have to go," I said. "Rainbow ... well, he can't climb ladders."
Tyson sniffled. He buried his face in the hippocampus's mane. "I will miss you, Rainbow!"
The hippocampus made a neighing sound I could've sworn was crying.
"Maybe we'll see him again sometime," I suggested.
"Oh, please!" Tyson said, perking up immediately. "Tomorrow!"
I didn't make any promises, but I finally convinced Tyson to say his farewells and grab hold
of the ladder. With a final sad whinny, Rainbow the hippocampus did a back-flip and dove into the
sea.
The ladder led to a maintenance deck stacked with yellow lifeboats. There was a set of
locked double doors, which Annabeth managed to pry open with her knife and a fair amount of
cursing in Ancient Greek.
I figured we'd have to sneak around, being stowaways and all, but after checking a few
corridors and peering over a balcony into a huge central promenade lined with closed shops, I
began to realize there was nobody to hide from. I mean, sure it was the middle of the night, but we
walked half the length of the boat and met no one. We passed forty or fifty cabin doors and heard
no sound behind any of them.
"It's a ghost ship," I murmured.
"No," Tyson said, fiddling with the strap of his duffel bag. "Bad smell."
Annabeth frowned. "I don't smell anything."
"Cyclopes are like satyrs," I said. "They can smell monsters. Isn't that right, Tyson?"
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