[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

Amy held the map up to the lamplight and read haltingly. “ ‘E.D.W. Anno Domini . . . 1661’! That’s what it says along the top. The bottom bit has two lines of writing:

“Lord, if it be thy will and pleasure,

Keep safe for the house of De Winn thy treasure.”

The old ship’s carpenter’s voice shook with excitement. “Ben lad, those are the very words written on the two bits o’ paper I glued together. Here, look, I’ve got it with me!” He took the repaired paper from his back pocket and read out the lines triumphantly:

“Lord, if it be thy will and pleasure,

Keep safe for the house of De Winn thy treasure.”

“Word for word, the same! Well, sink me!”

Ben found himself laughing at his friend’s delight. “Don’t sink just yet, mate. Let’s take a look at them together—the writing seems the same. E.D.W. Ah, Edmund De Winn!”

Alex made a very sensible suggestion. “Your thin paper is almost like tracing paper, Jon. Why don’t you lay it on top of the map and see if the writing matches up?”

Jon passed the thin paper to Amy. “My hand’s beginning to shake with excitement, you do it.”

Brushing her dark hair aside, the girl placed the map flat on the table. With careful precision, she laid the thin paper on top, nudging it gently until the two lines of writing were exactly on top of each other.

“It matches almost perfectly, every dot and loop of Edmund De Winn’s writing. Top and bottom, line for line!”

Alex placed his thumbs at the far side of both papers. “I’ll hold them steady, anybody got a pencil?”

Being a carpenter, Jon invariably had a well-sharpened pencil stub behind his ear, which he produced. He winked at the boy. “Aha! I see your plan, shipmate. You want me to mark the map through the four holes in the tissue paper. Hold her steady, now.”

As the old seaman painstakingly marked the map through the four holes in the thin paper, Ben caught a thought from the Labrador.

“Look at Winnie. There’s a picture of hope, you can see she really believes things are starting to happen.”

Ben returned the thought. “Aye, and it’s not just her. Look at Will and Ma. Look at us all. I’m glad the angel sent us here, pal. Smithers and his London gang don’t know it yet, but I think they’ll find these folk aren’t too easy to ride roughshod over anymore.”

Will removed the thin paper from its position. They gathered around the table to view the pencil-dotted map as he tapped a finger on the first mark he recognized. “Look ’ere, this is our farm, an’ the well, too! Haha, we’ve already solved one bit o’ the puzzle, right, friends? Which is the next ’un? Come on, young feller. I’m beginnin’ to like this!”

His ma clapped her hands together and rubbed them gleefully. “Me, too. Never thought I’d be part of a treasure hunt!”

Alex tapped the flat stick against his hand, staring at the map. “Hmm, we’ve solved the first saint’s problem: that’s Luke. So let’s write Luke over the dot where this farmhouse is.”

Jon nodded in admiration. “Well said, lad! So that leaves Matthew, Mark, an’ John. I think they’ll be in a clockwise position, stands to reason, don’t it?”

The astute old lady’s eyes twinkled as she took the pencil, licking the point briefly. “ ‘Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, Bless the Bed that I Lie On.’ Clockwise, eh, then this is the way it should go.” She wrote lightly above the other three dots thus:

They went back to pondering the problem. Will stood silent, his arms folded, when suddenly his voice cut the silence.

“St. John, that’s the next one we should look at if we’re goin’ clockwise. Though I’m just thinkin’, that next mark is right where the railway station stands now.”

His wife peered closely at the mark belonging to St. John. “When I went t’ school ole Mr. Braithwaite told us that’s about where the blacksmith once ’ad his stables.”

Now the meaning of the marks upon the stick dawned upon Ben. He took the flat piece of wood from Alex. “Of course! Two horses and lots of letter Us, I’ll bet the Us are meant to be horseshoes!”

Mrs. Winn squeezed Ben’s hand. “Marvelous, I wish I was as quick-thinking as you! But I’ve just had an awful thought. Supposing they built the railway station right over the stables, what then?”

Eileen frowned. “Let’s hope not. Don’t you go frettin’ just yet, m’dear. We’ll go an’ see Mr. Braithwaite, he’ll know if anybody does!”

The old lady sighed. “You’re right, we’ll just have to wait and see. Thank you for the lovely dinner, Eileen, you, too, Sarah. Oh dear, it’s getting late, we’d best get back home.”

Mrs. Winn had the chalice wrapped in a clean teacloth that she intended leaving with Mr. Mackay the lawyer, for safekeeping. They all climbed into the cart, and Will delivered them to their homes.