This chapter is set while the children are sailing the ocean liner from Cairnholm to Blackpool. I had to put a little Fiona/Hugh in it because they're so stinkin' cute together. Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed!

The ship was a gloomy place – dark and drippy from being underwater for years – and the children were all shaken after escaping the bombs so narrowly. But the main cabin on the deck felt cozy after Olive made a campfire. Fiona grew potatoes and basil, and they all ate baked potatoes in a circle around the fire, while they made battle plans for Blackpool. Enoch was going to create an army of skeletons to fight the hollows, but fighting the wights and saving Miss Peregrine would be harder.

"You can throw things at them from a distance," Jake told Bronwyn firmly, "but don't come too close." Bronwyn nodded.

"Hugh, you can order your bees to sting the wights, can't you?" Enoch asked, turning to him.

Hugh froze. The question was so horrible that for a moment, he couldn't move, couldn't answer. Then, slowly, he put down his baked potato and said, "My-my bees aren't peculiar. They're just ordinary bees."

"But can't you make them sting if–"

"No! They die if they sting!" Hugh burst out angrily, interrupting him.

His older housemates looked at each other in a serious way that Hugh didn't like at all. Then Olive said gently, "Hugh, listen, I know you don't want to make your bees sting anybody. I know Abe didn't want to leave us and go fight the Germans, either. But I think it's part of being at war – making sacrifices. It's going to take all of our peculiarities to save Miss P."

Hugh bit his lip. Was she saying that he had to choose between letting his bees live or saving Miss Peregrine? That was too awful to even think about. He loved Miss Peregrine like his own mother. He didn't want anything bad to happen to her... but the idea of making his bees sting, of ordering them to their deaths when they trusted him so much... The queasiness in Hugh's stomach had nothing to do with motion of the ship.

"Hugh, you have to– " Emma began.

But on the words have to, Hugh snapped. "I don't have to do what you say! You're not Miss P!" He sprang to his feet, tears blurring his vision, and ran blindly out of the cabin and down the first flight of stairs that he saw.

The lower level of the ship was even gloomier than the deck, with puddles of seaweed and muck on the floor, and Hugh was too nervous to venture from the stairs. He sat down on the bottom step with his chin in his hands. The thoughts rolling around in his head were almost as dark as the ship. He wanted to defeat the wights and save Miss Peregrine, of course... but his bees were so peaceful; they only wanted to pollinate flowers and make honey. How could he possibly use them as weapons?

After a few minutes, Hugh heard footsteps behind him, as one of his housemates came downstairs after him. He didn't look up, but he recognized Fiona's legs as she sat down next to him. "I thought your bees might like some flowers," she said softly. "Shall I grow some?"

Hugh blinked at the damp, bare floor of the hallway, then turned his head to look at her. "Can you, without any soil?"

Fiona just smiled at him. In a few minutes, there was a small plant of white alyssum in front of them – one of his bees' favorite flowers, because it smelled like honey. It was strange to see the cheerful, snowy blossoms in the dank hallway of the ship, to smell their sweetness over the muck and saltwater. Hugh opened his mouth wide and let all his bees out, and they buzzed happily around the blossoms. Watching them made Hugh feel more protective than ever.

"I'm saving my vines for when we get to Blackpool," Fiona said. "Jasmine and spinach vines are very strong. If I start them at the wights' feet, I can make the vines grow up around their bodies so they can't move."

Hugh sighed. He didn't want to talk about what would happen when they reached Blackpool. "I can't make my bees sting anyone," he mumbled. "I just can't. It would be like killing them. I can't believe the others would even think I'd do that."

"Their peculiarities aren't like ours. Olive told me earlier, 'You can grow another garden, Fiona, a bigger one,' and I can, but I can never get my old garden back. I'm going to miss it."

Hugh nodded. He knew that Fiona loved her plants almost as if they were people. She loved them, he suddenly realized, as much as he loved his bees. "I'm sorry about your garden," he said, even though the words felt insufficient.

"I-I'm going to miss it..." Fiona said again, but her voice trembled. She paused and took a deep breath to steady herself. "But I don't mind losing my garden... I mean, not so much, not as long as we're all together and Miss P's all right."

It was awful to imagine what might be happening to Miss Peregrine right now, being held captive by wights in a bird cage. She couldn't even defend herself in bird-form. Hugh knew that the wights were planning to do some sort of experiment on her, but the older children refused to tell him details when he'd asked about it. Hugh's stomach grew easy again, and he swallowed hard, afraid that he might throw up.

"She'll be all right," he said fiercely, trying to convince himself as much as Fiona. "She has to be."

For a long moment, they were both silent, then Fiona held one hand out, and a few of Hugh's bees landed gently on her fingertips. "It's silly, isn't it," she said, "to think some people are actually scared of bees?"

"People are very stupid about bees. They think bees like stinging, but they don't. They only sting as a very last resort."

"That's sort of like being peculiar, isn't it? Ordinary people are scared of us just because we can do things they can't."

Hugh titled his head. He had never thought about it like that, but Fiona was right. Ordinary people were scared of him just for being full of bees. They were even scared of Olive for being able to start fire with her hands, and being scared of Olive, who was almost as motherly as Miss Peregrine, was more stupid than being scared of bees. But people were scared because they didn't understand.

Fiona sat up straighter as an idea came to her. "Hugh, the wights don't know how nice your bees are, do they? What if you just told your bees to fly at them and give them a scare, but not actually sting them?"

Hugh felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Fiona, what a good idea," he said, sighing in relief. "That's just what I'll do. That'll work."

He could imagine now what would happen in Blackpool. The wights weren't ordinary, but Hugh felt sure that just like ordinary people, they wouldn't understand. They would run in terror from his harmless, well-behaved little bees. For the first time since Barron had taken Miss Peregrine away, Hugh felt a glimmer of hope that they really would be all right, somehow. "That'll work," he said again, softly.

Fiona laid her hand over his. "Come on, then," she said, "let's go back up and tell the others."

Hugh's queasiness was gone, and he felt hungry again. He stood and gathered his bees back inside him, and he and Fiona went back upstairs to the deck hand-in-hand.