[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

Gripper sniffed. “She can look at us any way she wants to, as long as ’er daddy pays up. Five guineas apiece fer puttin’ the frighteners on some old dame, just so she’ll leave ’ome. Not bad money fer a small job like that!”

Chunk’s stomach gurgled so loud it could be heard above the growl of the engine. He patted it sorrowfully. “Don’t know about five guineas. I’d settle fer a paperful of fish an’ chips right now, wiv salt an’ vinegar on ’em.”

“Can’t you think of nothin’ but yer stummick, y’great lump!”

A further abdominal gurgle almost drowned out Gripper’s statement. Chunk gazed mournfully at the passing countryside. “Well, I can’t ’elp it if me stummick’s bigger’n yours, Gripp.”

“Aye, if yer brains was as big as yer stummick, you’d be in charge o’ the country, Chunk, doin’ the prime minister out of a job. That’s wot you’d be doin’, mate!”

“Why, ’as the prime minister got a big stummick, Gripp?”

“The prime min . . . Jus’ go back t’sleep, willyer, Chunk!”

Flash propped his feet up on the dashboard. “Kin I ’ave a snooze, too, Gripp?”

Gripper let go of the steering wheel with one hand. He gave Flash a numbing punch on his shin. “No, y’can’t. You keep yer eyes open fer more signs!”

41

“ ‘ B E OF GOOD HEART,LIKE A FLAME pure and true, May the light of St. Mark bring my words unto you. E.D.W.’ ” Mr. Braithwaite and the ladies sat in the gathering gloom, staring at the paper as Amy read the rhyme for the third time.

Ben entered the room with a lighted taper. “Jon told me to bring some light to you before you ruin your eyesight staring at that paper.”

Mrs. Winn had neither gas nor the new electric light, favoring the old ways, and kept four ornate oil lamps in her sitting room. The boy lit them all, one on the mantelpiece, two on the window ledges back and front. He touched his taper to the wick of the largest lamp with its tall glass chimney and a cream-hued bowl. This lamp stood on the same table as the paper and gave off a wonderfully soft glow.

Ben chuckled. “Now you can see to think properly. Miz Winn, I’m going out with the men.”

A worried frown creased the old lady’s brow. “So that’s what you were all discussing in the kitchen. I knew as soon as the sergeant read out the telegram about the four men coming here in the motorcar. Be careful, Ben, and do exactly as Sergeant Patterson tells you—they could be dangerous.”

There was something in the blue eyes of the strange boy from the sea that told the old lady he had faced danger many times. His hand felt reassuring as he touched her shoulder lightly. “We can take care of this, Jon, Will, Mr. Mackay, Alex, the sergeant, and myself. No need for you to worry.

“Don’t open the door to anybody until you’ve looked through the window to see who’s there. I’ll leave Ned with you, just in case.”

Little Willum had played himself out and lay on the sofa, surrounded by cushions. As his mother covered him with an old plaid traveling rug, Ned came to sit by her.

Eileen patted the big dog’s head. “I’d like to see anyone try t’get past Ned if he didn’t want ’em to come in. You go on, Ben. We’re safe enough. Tell my Will not to forget Delia’s nosebag an’ water bucket.”

Amy touched the boy’s hand. “Be careful, Ben, and good luck!”

He paused at the door, tossing hair back from his keen blue eyes. “Good luck to you, too, pal. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my eye on Alex for you. Stay, boy!”

The black Labrador winked at Ben. “All right, shipmate, I’m only coming to the door to see you off.”

When they had departed, Mr. Braithwaite suddenly began pacing the room earnestly. Hetty whispered to her friend, “Lookit that ole buffer scratchin’ away at ’imself, Winnie. The shoulders of that gown look as if ’e’s been sprinklin’ ’em with talcum powder!”

Mrs. Winn suppressed a smile. “Ssshh, he’s deep in thought.”

Mr. Braithwaite stopped, holding up a finger, like an orator about to deliver a speech. “Hmph! It, er, occurs to me, er, ladies, that we should, er, light a candle in one of those holders, as it were. Yes, very good, to see if the light of St. Mark brings any, uh, er . . . words to us. Yes?”

Mrs. Winn opened a drawer in the table. “It can’t do any harm, I suppose, I keep some candles in here.”

Mr. Braithwaite took a candle. Using his library key, he scraped the wax at its base until it fit the socket of one golden candlestick. When he had lit it, the old scholar stood holding the candlestick in one hand and the paper in the other.

“Right, er, very good so far. Er, er, hmmmmmm.”

He was at a loss what to do next. Will’s ma, Sarah, came to his rescue, her voice mounting with excitement. “Give it to me now, I think I might know the answer!” She practically snatched both candlestick and paper.

The young girl watched curiously as Sarah held the paper over the flame. “Be careful, you might burn it!”