The Amazing Adventures of 4¢ Ned (Coinworld: Book Two)

by Benjamin Laskin

  It only took a few days before Cody Quarter determined that Hugh Stewards was not a dangerous man. He saw how The Hugh interacted with his wife, his kids, and their gimpy dog, Shadow. The Hugh impressed Cody as a kind and gentle person who wouldn’t harm a penny, even one as beat has his pal, Pete. Not deliberately, anyway.

  Still, Cody had to be careful, as the home was rife with perils. Brian and Sue were as greedy as any other normal ten or thirteen-year-old kids, and neither would hesitate to pocket a quarter. A quarter bought a lot of things at the Rapid Mart down the street—candy, soda, trading cards, combs and brushes, pens, squirt guns—the treasures were endless.

  Katherine, too, would have no trouble finding uses for a stray quarter. She might drop Cody into her coin purse for use at a Providence parking meter without even a thought.

  In his prior life as a stagnant coin such tip taxis would have been welcome. Nothing beat commerce, and exchanging hands was the only locomotion a coin could look forward to. But not anymore, and he owed that to Ned Nickel and to Hugh Stewards, whose coin toss sent Cody and Harper into Ned’s world.

  Cody saved his most dangerous snooping for when Katherine was at work, the kids were at school, The Hugh was at Coin Island, and at night while the family slept. It was then when Cody read The Hugh’s diaries, looked at articles and clippings the man collected, and even read some of the short stories Hugh was writing. All coins liked a good story, and although no connoisseur of literature like Deirdre Dime, Cody thought Mr. Stewards’ weird tales and other pulp stories very entertaining.

  When the Stewards’ were home, Cody flitted or crept from room to room to spy on the family. Humans were amusing creatures, and the Stewards family was no different.

  The two children provided constant entertainment; energetic and full of the enthusiasm of youth, they kept the house buzzing with laughter. Brian and Sue teased one another relentlessly, or until mom or dad had had enough and ordered them to go do their homework. The children played games, squabbled, swapped stories about other kids at school, and fantasized about all the things they were going to do one day. Sue was going to be a dancer and a movie star, and Brian was going to be a baseball player, or maybe a pilot, or perhaps a digger of dinosaur bones, or president of the United States, but probably all four. Why not?

  Katherine was quiet and soft-spoken like her husband. Cody wondered if she had always been so, or if life had worn her down. Regardless, Cody thought they made a good couple. He sympathized with their frowns when they sat at the kitchen table and went over their bills and checkbooks. He wished he could help, but they needed more than his twenty-five cents worth of advice.

  Thankfully, Shadow the dog presented no danger to Cody. Too old and slow to give chase, Shadow was also a gentle pooch. Cody and his eagle, Ellsworth, got along well with Shadow, and kept him company while the family slept or was away. They snuggled with the dog and found that Shadow loved it when Ellsworth clawed him behind his ear or on his tummy. The dog made Cody laugh, and he liked nestling inside the dog’s soft fur. In time he even allowed Shadow to nudge him with his wet nose and lick him across his face.

  Satisfied that The Hugh was neither mean-spirited nor a criminal—coins hated criminals, and especially thieves—Cody turned his attention to The Hugh’s interest in Coin Island.

  15

  nickel news

  A voracious reader, Hugh Stewards returned each Saturday from the local library with a pile of books. The stack included a couple of novels, research for an article he hoped to sell for a few dollars, but mostly books related to coins. He read everything he could find about coin collecting, the history of coins and American currency, and books about economics.

  Hugh Stewards did most of his reading in the worn, black leather reading chair next to the coat rack. It had armrests broad enough to rest a notepad and a large, handheld magnifying glass. The chair was conveniently angled in such a way that Cody could masquerade as a button on The Hugh’s peacoat and read with the man over his shoulder.

  Hugh routinely gazed at the spare change he might have at any given time in his pocket, but he didn’t collect coins and had no Whitman coin folders, or even a piggy bank. Cody figured that the family needed every coin it took in, and that The Hugh lacked the money to start even a simple hobby like coin collecting. The kids and their interests came first.

  Still, Cody often saw The Hugh hold a coin under the big magnifying glass and stare at its quality and markings. The man seemed to take a particular interest in pennies and nickels, but maybe that was because pennies and nickels were often the only change in the house. Cody didn’t know if The Hugh was looking for something in particular, or just acquainting himself with the many tiny details that made up every coin.

  Cody knew that the Great Minter created all coins with a certain amount of animation. He was one of them, after all. Every coin he ever met was alive, and each was special in its way. Rarely did two people have the same personality, and so it was with every coin Cody knew. Generally speaking, he thought most coins were cheerful creatures, but he had known plenty of grumpy, crabby, stodgy, or otherwise petty change. Also like people, who had their own unique set of fingerprints, every coin had its own swirling lines, wrinkles, and blotches.

  Every face on every coin had a wide range of expressions. They talked, smiled, frowned, blinked, and laughed. Coins saw it all, but people saw none of it. He had heard stories of the rare individual who sensed something was going on, but he knew coins and their penchant for whoppers.

  Still, Cody often wondered why people considered coins inanimate objects, no different from a key or a thumbtack. He could understand that the chattering of coins was out of their auditory range, but why couldn’t they see what was happening before their eyes? Was it because coins were so small and people didn’t have nearly the eyesight a coin did? Or, was it that people were just too preoccupied to notice or care?

  Not until he met Ned Nickel did he get his answer. Ned, Chief Iron Tail, and Pete Penny had taught him many wonderful things, but the insight that fascinated him the most was the power of imagination and belief. Not just any imagination or belief would suffice: it had to be active imagination and total belief. With these fundamental elements coins could buck ‘n’ roll, hop, leap, spin, torch on, or even fly, depending upon what came standard with his or her particular specie.

  Imagination and belief, trust and faith, were at the copper, silver, or nickel core of everything The Four taught, including the awesome power that came with the releasing of one’s inner wampum. Indeed, the three sagacious coins—Ned, the chief, and Beat Pete—also believed that coins had only scratched the surface of what was achievable, and that one day even greater discoveries would be made.

  According to Ned, the answer to Cody’s question was humans were oblivious to a coin’s animation for the same reason coins were unaware of their own potential. The habit of accepting so much as impossible blinded both of them. In short: it was all in their minds.

  As Ned explained it to him one day, when people believed the Earth to be flatter than a silver dollar, many of Heaven’s great mysteries remained hidden from them. But once enough people accepted and believed that the Earth was a sphere with locomotion, the Heavens replied to their newfound awareness with an endless supply of marvels. The vast Heavens corresponded with the vastness of the mind: as above; so within. The infinitude of the soul met the infinitude of the Heavens at the junction of imagination and belief.

  Heady stuff for a nickel to contemplate, or even a person, but once Cody’s metallic mind grasped The Four’s explanation, he found that his progress accelerated accordingly. The impossible became improbable; the improbable, likely; the likely, inevitable; the inevitable, a promise; a promise, an instinct, and then finally, a knack.

  As Cody looked on over Mr. Stewards’ shoulder and read with equal curiosity all that The Hugh read, Cody wondered if similar thoughts crossed the man’s mind. The only evidence Cody found of such thoughts were musings in The H
ugh’s diary about his renewed vitality.

  At first, The Hugh attributed his physical and mental gains to having cleansed himself of the different medications that had distorted his thinking and sapped his will and enthusiasm for life. But as the weeks passed and he continued to improve, he wondered if something more was responsible.

  Hugh’s bad hip and knee still caused him to limp, but the pain from his war injuries had lessened considerably. He used to feel twenty years older than he was, but now, at forty, he felt ten years younger. He considered it a miracle, but didn’t know how to account for it. He didn’t discount that perhaps God was answering his prayers at church, but if so, Hugh thought He must have been working through the magical coins of Coin Island.

  Crazy.

  But maybe he’d start taking Shadow with him to the park. It couldn’t hurt, right? Instead of walking him down the same boring sidewalk, he’d walk him from the car to his bench beside Coin Island. Hugh leaned down, petted the pooch, and put the idea to him. Shadow replied with a swish of his tail and a lick of Hugh’s hand.

  Hugh Stewards reached into the side pocket of his reading chair for the morning paper. Starting at the front, he read at least every headline of every article before turning to the next page.

  He read about Pope John XXIII’s recent succession of Pope Pius XII as the 261st pope; the inauguration of the new UNESCO building in Paris; Harry Winston’s donating of the Hope Diamond to the Smithsonian Institution; and the tragic perishing of 33 of 35 crewmen in the break up and sinking of the lake freighter SS Carl D. Bradley in a storm on Lake Michigan.

  The sports section carried a debate over who should win the National League’s MVP: Cubs slugger Ernie Banks who hit .313 with 47 home runs and 129 RBIs, or Willie Mays of the San Francisco Giants, who batted .347 and hit 29 home runs and 96 RBIs.

  Hugh Stewards thought all of that interesting, but nothing peaked his interest more than the lead story in the following section of the paper and its headline: Naughty Nickel Creates Quacking Chaos at Renowned Peabody Hotel, Rare Peace Dollar Reported Stolen. Included with the story was a picture of a man sprawled on the floor beside an ornate fountain, his nose in the bill of a duck.

  The renowned Peabody Hotel in downtown Memphis is famous for its “March of the Ducks,” but yesterday the hotel’s parading mallards were upstaged by a collection of strange gold and silver coins, and one particularly mischievous nickel.

  Adding to the mystery, a Mr. Charles Nesbitt of Rhode Island reported to police that around the same time as pandemonium filled the lobby, someone snuck into his Peabody hotel room and stole a precious 1922 Peace Dollar.

  The Peabody Hotel is host to the year’s largest coin show this week, and Mr. Nesbitt was one of its participants. He said he was planning to sell the valuable coin at the show. The coin expo runs from November 14th through the 16th, and thousands of coin collectors and enthusiasts are expected to attend.

  According to numerous eyewitness accounts, in the middle of the ducks’ march back to their rooftop roost, a nickel fell from above onto the red carpet before the lead duck. Attracted by the shiny object, the ducks waddled after the rolling coin, trying to snatch it up.

  Chaos followed, and according to onlookers at the scene, it appeared to them that the nickel “had a mind of its own.”

  One witness told reporters that the nickel “didn’t want to be any fowl’s snack,” while another praised the nickel’s dancing ability, saying, “Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly could learn a few things from that nickel!” Another witness called the coin’s antics “buck ‘n’ roll,” and laughed that “even Elvis couldn’t shake his pelvis like that little fella!”

  Asked by this reporter where the nickel came from, some witnesses said “it appeared out of nowhere,” whereas others said they believed someone on the mezzanine level had tossed it down.

  One of the witnesses was the hotel’s longtime “Duckmaster,” Henry Drakes, who said he had never seen anything like it. “I don’t know who did it, or how they did it, but that was some magic show. Frankly, I was frightened for my ducks at the time, but now that I know they are fine, I’m laughing with everyone else.”

  Some people didn’t laugh at the time. Witnesses said a man, identified later as Dr. Monroe Stryker of Pasadena, California, behaved erratically and pushed and shoved his way towards the lobby fountain where the nickel was said to have been “dancing about.” A brawl broke out between Duckmaster Drakes and Stryker. It ended when the Duckmaster broke his cane over Mr. Stryker’s head.

  After leaving the hospital with eleven stitches on his head and chin, Dr. Monroe Stryker was arrested for disturbing the peace and hauled in for questioning. No charges were filed against the Duckmaster, who all witnesses at the scene said acted in self-defense and to protect his five mallards.

  According to many onlookers, an electrified nickel wasn’t the only show going on in the famous lobby. Many persons on the scene reported that they saw “metallic butterflies,” while others said “dragonflies.”

  Still other eyewitnesses thought the “doohickeys” darting above might have been “UFOs,” whereas some on the scene said the objects were “flying coins.” More than a few onlookers told this reporter that they saw “gold and silver hummingbirds,” though others swore they resembled “miniature eagles.”

  Several witnesses claimed the glittering creatures seemed to be battling one another, while others felt it was some sort of “mating ritual.”

  Both hotel management and organizers of the three-day coin show deny accusations that the bizarre incident was part of a publicity stunt to draw people to the hotel and coin show. Both parties said they knew nothing more about the happening than witnesses on the scene.

  Hotel and expo directors expressed deep regret for Mr. Nesbitt’s loss of his valuable coin. They promised that police investigators had their full cooperation. Hotel security has been increased to avoid any further disturbances.

  Meanwhile, Duckmaster Henry Drakes assured reporters with a smile that the Peabody mallards “won’t duck their responsibilities and fans,” and are looking forward to performing again as usual tomorrow.

  Hugh Stewards read the article three times and then clipped it from the paper. He rose and placed it into a scrapbook on his desk.

  Cody Quarter had previously examined the scrapbook and knew that it contained dozens of stories related to coins. The articles told of reports about thefts of rare coins from numismatists’ collections around the country, unexplained happenings involving one or more coins, outlandish claims made by individuals pertaining to coins, or strange behaviors by people that involved coins. Mr. Stewards had collected over thirty such stories, and all of them within the past year and a half.

  The Hugh reached into a shallow dish on his desk, chose a Moore pushpin with a clear glass head, and walked to his wall map of the US. He sunk the pin into Memphis, Tennessee. Hugh stood back and viewed the map and its colored pins: brass tacks for pennies, clear glass for nickels, aquamarine for dimes, pearl-colored for quarters, emerald for half dollars, silver tacks for silver dollars, and onyx for unknown.

  Hugh cocked his head and palmed his chin in thought. He traced his finger from one clustered area to another, as if trying to determine a pattern. Unconvinced that he saw such a thing, he shook his head. Hugh walked to his bookcase and withdrew a book about coins and returned to his chair. He scanned the table of contents and then flipped to a chapter about Peace Dollars.

  Cody had been wondering what the pins represented, and now he knew. The map and its colored pins and tacks showed that The Hugh was even more methodical in his investigations than Cody thought.

  The Hugh is on to us. He’s definitely on to us.

  The newspaper’s account of Operation Coin Toss didn’t mention if it was successful. But judging by the chaos it created, Cody figured that something had gone terribly wrong. He was concerned about his friends and wondered if they had all returned safely to base.

  Reading between the
lines of the story, the air battle witnesses described struck him as particularly worrisome. He knew the plan, and it contained no such thing. More alarming still, the plan didn’t call for Ned to be anywhere near the lobby. Did they make some last-minute changes? Maybe Mr. Nesbitt’s room was located on the first floor and Ned and his Raiders had to make their escape through the lobby? Something was funny about all that money.

  Gold?

  Coin Island had no gold coins.

  Coin Island hadn’t anything against gold coins, but because of their weight, and especially their value, island leadership thought it best to stick to copper, nickel, and silver coins, at least for the present time.

  The one comforting omission from the article was it contained no mention of a four-cent nickel. If someone had noticed Ned’s value, then surely something so peculiar would have made it into the story. A rambling nickel was queer enough, but one struck as a four instead of a five would have blown more than a few minds, would it not?

  Although The Hugh’s obsession with Coin Island required more monitoring, Cody decided he had accomplished his mission. He knew where the man lived now and could return later if circumstances changed. Concerned about his friends, and wondering if they might need his help, Cody determined that he would leave that evening while the family slept.

  When the time came, he saw Shadow lying on a rug in the den. Cody was going to miss his new friend, and so he rolled over to him to say goodbye. Since Shadow was half blind and deaf, Cody bumped up against the dog’s wet nose to get his attention. Shadow wagged his tail and rolled onto his back, his paws in the air. Cody laughed and clambered onto the dog and bucked across his stomach.