[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

Alex recited the lines from memory:

“ ‘ ’Twixt here and there you must stop to drink, your first reward to unlock.’ ”

Eileen smote the table so hard that she almost upset her teapot. “I got it!”

Baby Willum thought it was a good game, and he began banging on the tabletop and giggling. Eileen passed him to his father. “Go to Daddy, there’s a good lad. I got it, I solved your rhyme! Hillside Farm is ’alfway ’twixt the almshouse an’ St. Peter’s church. We’re the only place ’round ’ere with a well!”

Will bounced the baby up and down on his knee. “Ain’t yore mum the clever one, babe Willum!”

The old seaman leaned across the table, his scone and tea forgotten. “I never knew you had a well here.”

Will allowed the baby to slide down and toddle across to Amy. “Been a well on this land as long as there’s been a farm. Come on, I’ll show it ye.”

Across the farmyard from the milking shed was a separate stone building, used as a storehouse. Will lit a lantern and hung it from a center beam. Sacks of potatoes, carrots, turnips, and root vegetables ranged around the walls. Cheeses lay on a wooden platform and hams hung from the rafters. In the center stood the well, housed by a circular stone wall with a bucket and pulley.

Eileen leaned over the wall and shuddered. “Dark ole place ’tis, though the water’s cold an’ sweet.”

Will wound the bucket down. They heard it splash into the water below. He hauled it up, filled to the brim. “Best water in the county, I reckon. It comes from an underground stream, purified by the limestone an’ clear as a bell. What d’you reckon to look for down there?”

Jon stared down into the darkness. “The first reward.”

Eileen chuckled. “No reward for you, Jon Preston, you’re far too big ’n’ heavy to fit into a water pail.”

Immediately, Ben volunteered. “I’ll go down!”

Armed with another smaller lantern, Ben sat astride the water pail. Jon and Will manned the pulley handle, the latter giving instructions. “There’s some tools o’ mine in the bucket if you need ’em. Go careful now, lad, and keep tight hold of that rope.”

The pulley creaked as the two men lowered Ben down into the wellshaft. Amy stood by, holding little Willum’s hand. “What’s it like down there, Ben?”

The boy’s voice echoed up out of the shaft. “Just an old circular wall, nothing much to see. I’ll look at one side on the way down and the other side on the way up. Hold that, Will! My feet are touching water!”

Jon peered down at the light far below. The rope began straining and going from side to side. He called down. “Steady on, Ben. Don’t bounce about so much!”

“I’m just turning around so I can see the other half of the wall.” His voice echoed. “There, that’s better, haul up slow now!”

Will and Jon bent their backs to the task. They had not given more than four full turns when Ben yelled, “Stop! Lower away a touch . . . a bit more. . . . There, that’s it!”

Alex poked his head over. “What is it, Ben, what’ve you found?”

“One of the wall stones, bigger than the rest. Twice as large. It’s not cemented in like the others . . . someone’s jointed it in with lead. Wait a moment!”

There was a dull thudding of hammer and chisel, then Ben called up. “Aye, it’s lead. Easy to get out, it’s very old and perished. I can almost pull it out by hand.”

A splashing sounded from below, followed by the boy’s voice. “Sorry, Will, some of it has fallen into the water.”

The young farmer leaned over the edge. “Don’t you worry about that, boy, the stream’ll wash it away. Let the stone go if you have to.”

They could hear Ben grunting with exertion as he maneuvered the heavy stone, pushing it back and forth, using the chisel as a lever, reporting his progress as he went. “I’ve got it almost half out! Whew, it’s a big ’un, but it’s moving fairly well. Shall I try to get it into the bucket, Will?”

“No, the weight would be too much, lad. Let it go!”

This was followed by a booming splash, as Ben shouted out. “Well, that cooled me down. I’m soaked. Wait, I’ve got my arm in the hole where the stone was. There’s something here!”

Little Willum joined in the cheering that broke out. Ben yelled above the din. “I’ve got it, haul away, me hearties, take me up. I’ve got it!”

Alex and Amy joined Will and Jon, helping to turn the handles.

Ben arrived, beaming over the wellshaft at them. “Let’s get it out into the light for a proper look, pals!”

Eileen cleared the farmhouse table off, and they set the odd-looking object on it: a muddy lump, about twice the size of a normal house brick.

Ben prodded it. “Anyone fancy a guess at what it is?”

Eileen stopped little Willum trying to climb upon the table. “Dirty ole thing, what d’you reckon ’tis, Ma?” she asked.

Will’s mother reached out a stick-like finger and scraped it across the lump, then brought it close to her face. “Hmm, won’t know ’til we get all that tallow off it.”

The younger boy looked baffled. “Tallow?”

She rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. “Aye, lad, wax made from animal fat. Tallow.”