Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Chapter Eleven
Clarisse Blows Up Everything
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"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 pilothouse and the powder magazine and gunnery deck
(Clarisse's favorite) 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 cannon balls.
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 me, too, because my name was Jackson—like the Southern
general—but then I ruined it by telling them I 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."
"Did they give you this ship?" I 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?"
"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 ..."