[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

Chaz’s nose had stopped bleeding, and he sniffed carefully before blurting out, “The company we work for in London, Jackman Donnin’ an’ Bowe, ’ll get a lawyer fer us, a real one from London, not some ’ayseed like that feller!”

Gripper groaned, and clenching both fists, he turned on Chaz. “You stoopid, loudmouthed squealer! I’ll . . .”

Chaz skipped nimbly out of range, placing himself behind the formidable figure of Will Drummond.

“Keep ’im away from me! It was Gripper who pinched the motorcar, ’e’s the on’y one of us wot can drive. I ’aven’t done nothin’, an’ I’m not gonna be left carryin’ the can fer miss snotty nose Maud Bowe an’ ’er father’s firm. No! Not fer any local bigwig who’s in with ’em, either!”

It was at that moment when Constable Judmann pounded on the station door and the old seaman let him in. “I thought you were comin’ to relieve me, Sarge. ’Ello, what’ve we got ’ere?”

Sergeant Patterson took hold of Chaz firmly. “Ah’ll tell ye all about it later, Constable. Lock those three up in the holding cell, will ye. Ah’ll keep this fellow here with me. Ah’ve got a feeling he wants tae tell me more.” The sergeant relieved Mackay of his stick.

“Thanks for the help, gents. Time yon lads were in bed, though. Does your dad know you’re out this late, Alex?”

The younger boy who stood framed by the open window with the blue-eyed boy replied, “It’s all right, Sarge. Me and Amy told him we’d be stopping over with Ben at Miz Winn’s tonight.”

The sergeant winked at Ben. “Weel, you make sure they get straight off tae bed, and don’t stay up late yourself!”

Ben grinned cheekily. “Bed? Not on a night like this. It’s gone midnight, d’you realize? Today’s Thursday, the deadline day for Chapelvale. I’m going back to see if Miz Winn and our friends have cracked the riddle!”

The boys ran off, with Will, the shipman, and the lawyer in their wake, calling, “Hi, wait for us!”

43

WILL’S MA HAD TAKEN LITTLE WILLUM to bed with her, in Winnie’s room on the ground floor. On the sofa formerly occupied by little Willum, Mr. Braithwaite lay, wrapped in his gown, overcome by slumber. Hetty took the plaid traveling rug and covered him over with it. “Good old feller, it was him who thought of lightin’ the candle. That got us started.”

Mackay bobbed his head in a small bow. “But I’ve no doubt he couldn’t have got much further without the help of you ladies, excellent work all ’round!”

Amy, Eileen, and Mrs. Winn were far too excited to contemplate sleep. They showed the results of their labors to the menfolk, who told them of the capture of the London toughs.

The blue-eyed boy took a look at the writing, then at the old map with the four dots upon it. “It’s marked here as Eastpath, where’s that?”

Eileen blushed in the lamplight. “Oh, ’tis a pretty little lane. Will an’ me used to walk there, when we was a-courtin’.”

Mr. Mackay knew a bit more about the area. “Ah yes, Eastpath. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Jon, but isn’t that the old stagecoach way, to the east of the village square?”

Jon confirmed the solicitor’s words. “Aye, that’s the place,” the old shipmate said. “Once the new road was built from Hadford, for the waggoners to use, the path fell into disrepair. Of course, that’d be nigh on a hundred years back. Eastpath will be so overgrown we’ll have a right old job tryin’ to locate a milestone.”

Will shook his head. “Oh no we won’t, friend. I recall trippin’ over that stone an’ sprainin’ my ankle one evening as I was runnin’.”

Amy chuckled. “Were you chasing after Eileen?”

Will’s big, jolly wife gave Amy a nudge, almost knocking her over. “No, it were I who was chasin’ after Will!”

Mr. Mackay coughed officiously to dispel any more talk of the romantic escapade. “Harrumph! Yes, well, we’re going to need spades, lanterns, and so on. Shall we get started? Our time is short now.”

The black Labrador passed a thought to his master, who was sitting stroking him. “Pity the poor girl who ever tries to chase that dry old stick.”

The gig was loaded up, ready to go. Ben stood at the door with Mrs. Winn. The old lady looked very tired, he hugged her affectionately. “You go back inside and have a nice nap, Miz Winn. Leave this to us. I promise we’ll come back here with anything we find, straightaway!”

She kissed Ben’s cheek. “I’ll have breakfast ready for you.”

The dog was obviously holding a mental conversation with Horatio. As they climbed into the gig, Ben eyed the Labrador. “What was going on between you two, Ned?”

The black Labrador laid his chin on Ben’s lap. “I told him to keep an eye on things while we were gone.”

The boy scratched the back of his dog’s ear. “I suppose he gave you a lot of nonsense about sardines, butterflies, and mice. Poor old Horatio, he’s got a bit of a one-track mind.”

Ned shook his head. “No. Surprisingly, he said he’d watch over the house and if anything happened he’d track us down and let me know. I think that Horatio’s finally come to his senses. Just in time—can’t go around with a headful of sardines and butterflies all his life!”