Edge of Indigo

by Mark Walker

  “An’ they says that’s where the treasure is buried, aye, as one who knows a somethin’ about somethin’ believe ‘em! Yes, somewheres around here is the real thing all right, buried these two hunnerd year! By Jolly Roger! By Davey Jones! All the gold an’ silver an’ diamonds an’ jewels yer can imagine… and guardin’ it, wherever ‘tis, is the ghost of the Sea Ghost.”

  Here, his eyes glazed over completely with that strange, wild look. He stared through the children without seeming to be aware of them. “He roams the moors an’ the cliffs, a lookin’ for his ship to come in… but always keepin’ watch over his treasure. Yes, when the moon is just right ye can see still him…”

  He moved away from the group to the big bow window and stood looking out, swaying slightly. “Sometimes he stands right out there, floatin’ above the rocks, laughin at me an’ the mates, then he just floats on out to sea an’ disappears...” He started and turned around, his wild dark eyes staring. “The sounds in the night are the ghosts of the slaves diggin’, with Captain Flood drivin’ ‘em on! For the past two hunnered year the Ghost has haunted and protected his hidden treasure. The treasure’s about. An’ he’s about. Them sounds ye heard in the night—it’s the Ghost of the Sea Ghost—the Ghost, I’m sure of it!”

  “Now, now, Captain,” growled Mr. Melville, “t’ain’t no use getting the children all worked up. Why, I’ve been hereabouts all these years, and though I admit there’s been some strange goings on, I ain’t never actually seen no ghost.”

  Flora Phipps waved an agitated hand and added, “Oh, but begging your pardon. I feel sure there is a Ghost, Mr. Melville!” There was a deathly silence in the room, broken only when Fauna Phipps added, “And he’s coming back! The vibrations say so!”

  Of course, the children had been enthralled with the prospect of there being a “real live ghost” (that coming from Jen, who had to be corrected that ghosts were actually dead… well, sort of) and this consumed most of their conversation and imagination. But they had become increasingly apprehensive of the four hard characters they called the pirates. The men’s behavior, which at first had seemed thrilling to them—just a bit naughty, maybe even romantic—had turned erratic, and downright frightening, especially as drink had taken them over, and they were anxious to go to their room. Combined with the strangeness of their new surroundings, the odd sounds, threatening weather, and darkness of the night cast a chilling pall over their day.

  For the second night in a row Delia and Kendra tucked them into bed, but even Kendra Danes’ violin could not entirely quell their concerns. Finally, they had settled down, into the rhythm of the strange new sounds. It was sleep now which began to overtake them after their long day, the waxing and waning of the surf, and soft falling rain combining into a soft medley, not unlike the strains of Kendra’s violin.

  11

  THAT NIGHT THE PIRATES left off their usual activities. Instead of repairing and shoring up the old tunnel or moving their “goods,” they all retired to the “crow’s nest” as they called the lookout amongst themselves and planned what to do about the new arrivals. The little nippers were bad enough—but these infernal detectives!

  It would spoil everything, all of their carefully laid plans. Captain Smuggleguts had discovered the map months before. The bulk of the treasure was buried beneath the inn deep inside Black Rock Island itself. From there, the tunnel the slaves had shorn-up two hundred years before, led through the spit of rock and up into the side of the cliff for several hundred meters. Then, it branched off into one of the many labyrinths of caves that stretched to the tin mine, and the small, protected cove there. They had found the tunnel in poor shape and had needed to clear away great quantities of rock and clay, restoring sections with timbers, rock and mortar.

  Although they seemed to eat little in front of the others, they were well fed due to provisions purchased in town that they had stored in a small cave off the central line of the tunnel. To allay any fear of getting lost, they had set up a secret set of markers, using bones they had discovered. The bones were those of the very slaves who had dug the tunnel. Early in their explorations, they had stumbled across a gruesome burial ground, a deep natural dry well where the bodies had been thrown. There had been such a profusion of death, that the bodies of the dead slaves had nearly filled the well full. So, the pirates, after their initial recoil, used the dead again to point them their way.

  Owing to the size of the treasure, the modern-day pirates had rebuilt parts of the mining rails so that by using the old carts they could haul it through the tunnel up to the tin mine. Here, it could be transferred down to their secret jumping off point, where it would be loaded onto boats and transported to their ship. Most nights they toiled away when the rest of the inn was to bed. It was only a matter of days before their ship, (which really was under repair in Mousehole), would be shipshape and ready to pick them and the treasure up. Hence the pirates had been under great pressure to finish their work, and the more so now due to the arrival of Scotland Yard. Adding to their consternation was the coming storm and AG Days that were forecast.

  Although action was called for, the pirates (as usual) were arguing over the methods to be employed. But the semblance of a plot had formed that very day. The stage had been set earlier that evening, when a sleeping drought had been administered into the drinks of most of the house during the recantation of the saga of the Sea Ghost. Only certain “special” guests were not given the sedative—those being the children, Riggs and Bellows. It was well after midnight when the door to the lookout creaked open and the four scalawags emerged, the Captain leading with a candle as they crept stealthily down the stairs, their scheme now finalized.

  A strange cracking sound against their windowpane awakened the children. They went sleepily to the window and finally opened it, the cold air bringing them fully awake. It was pitch dark outside, the bridge lights having been turned off hours before. They saw a faint glow by the bridge, but after their initial mistaking of Inspector Riggs for a ghost, they were understandably dubious. Their doubts were soon trounced. A glowing man-like form emerged into the open and ran to the left, around the inn. They looked at each other in horror. Surely their eyes had not mistaken them this time. It had been a man, right?

  Suddenly, a wicked wail trailed up toward them, and the figure appeared from the right, having run completely round the inn. They could distinctly see in his glowing hand a glowing cutlass, which he waved wildly about. Jen shrieked as the other two cringed from the sill, Michael banging the window shut. They bolted from the room and down the stairs, banging on doors and calling for help—the ghost was about! But their efforts raised not a stir.

  The children rushed back up the winding stair past their own room to see if the Captain was in the lookout—maybe he could help them. But they saw immediately on rounding the last bend that the door was open, and the Captain was not there.

  The lookout was dark and empty. The only light showing came through the windows and the skylight, the moonlight shining through occasional breaks in the clouds. They rushed to them and looked out. Suddenly, the children heard the low wailing moan come up from the ground below over the crash of waves. It reached a shrill pitch, and as they watched in horror, the ghostly, glowing face rose from behind some black rocks off to the left and began to float through the air! The moan came again, growing in a crescendo, then cascading down, as the white spectral face flitted betwixt and between the rocks. It seemed to be laughing at them, daring them not to be afraid.

  With a crash that sent them screaming, one of the windows banged partially open in a great gust of wind. The cold sea air rushed in and Michael scrambled to close it, but the crank had jammed, and he hadn’t the strength due to the terrible strength of the wind. Seconds later, they heard sounds upon the stair. Turning away from the terrible sight of the floating head, they cringed as the fearsome sound approached. They saw a light coming up through the door and then to their relief, Kelly Riggs charged in with an electric torc
h and behind him, the great bulk of Sergeant Bellows.

  “What’s wrong? We thought we heard something and came to investigate.”

  “Look! Look out here!” cried Jen. They all rushed to window just in time to catch the glowing figure return, running round and round between the inn and the surrounding rocks. Only this time there was something missing—the man’s head! He ran like a scarecrow, waving his arms about darting here and there. He appeared to be searching for what he had lost! “Blast!” cried Riggs. Fred Bellows, pointing the Webley and his torch back down the stairs, shouted, “I’ll go and see what it is.” And went on the bound.

  “Take care, Sergeant! We’ll see if—look!” The figure had disappeared, but in his place floated the ghastly head. Then, from the other direction, the headless figure reappeared. As they stared in horror, the head burst into flames and seemed to fly through the air, disappearing over the edge of the rocks and into the sea. When they looked back the other way the ghostly headless figure was gone. Just then, Bellows appeared below, flashing his torch this way and that, but to no avail. “Back inside!” shouted Riggs. “Children stay here, we’ll check the rooms.” And he was off. He arrived at the landing to the pirate’s room, and tried the door, to find it locked. He banged and shouted, “Open up!” Bellows appeared below him. “Go wake the rest of the house, and we’ll try to flush whomever,” called Riggs. He continued to bang on the door. Finally, he heard a stirring and a grumbling inside. Bellows returned and called up to Riggs, “Can’t raise a soul, sir, they’re all sawing logs best I can tell—the Potter’s room’s not locked, and they’re fast asleep, and there’s no joy with the young women, or the others either.”

  Riggs, thought quickly and asked, “What about ffellows?”

  “His door’s locked, sir.”

  Just then, the door to the pirate’s room was opened with a loud creaking groan by a shambling, yawning Captain Smuggleguts, dressed in a crumpled nightshirt, his hair askew, carrying a candle and accompanied by Maynard Gee. “Whatderyer want?” he growled. “What’s all this caterwaulen’. I tells yer it’s impossible to get any sleep around here what wit’ ghosts an’ sech!”

  “What do you chaps know about ghosts?” asked Riggs pointedly.

  “Ah knows there’s them, and that’s a fact—why we’ve seen ‘em!”

  “Well, we saw something just now that was supposed to look like a ghost, that it seems was designed to frighten the children—which it has, but we know better. So, Captain, where’s the rest of our happy crew?”

  “Aw, we’s right here, Mr. Inspector, sir. I means Mr. Chief Inspector, sir,” mumbled the voice of Mr. Graves out of the dark recesses of the room. “Cept’n ole Mr. Shark here—can’t budge ‘im.” And indeed, the sound of snores could be heard from inside the room.

  At that moment Shayne ffellows appeared with the Sergeant from below and from above the children, who had come cautiously down from the lookout. “What’s going on?” asked a yawning Shayne ffellows.

  “The Ghost! The Ghost! We saw him!” cried the children.

  “Settle down now, this is serious, but it can’t be helped tonight. Let’s all turn in,” said Riggs.

  “Aw, so you woke me up fer nothin’!” complained the Captain. Kelly Riggs gave him a steely look and said, “We’ve had a bit of mischief tonight. But I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of it tomorrow. Right. Back to bed everyone.”

  Later, Riggs pondered the case over the snores of Sergeant Bellows through the thick walls of the next room, and “the ghost” for some while before he was fast asleep.

  Part Two

  1

  WHEN NEXT THE DAWN BROKE, a smoky silvery light filtered through the windows and portholes of the Roundhouse Inn. The children were up early, filled with nothing but tales of their strange adventure with the ghost, though the rest of the house had been strangely groggy and ambivalent. It had been hard to wake Kendra Danes, though they had been successful with help from Delia, and the Potters seemed all right. Although still chilly outside, inside it was warm, and soon the aroma of a full English breakfast and coffee hung in the air. Tom Melville had started a new fire, as was his custom; the Phipps sisters were ensconced in their place, as was their custom; Shayne ffellows was busy scribbling in his sketchbook as was his custom; Kendra Danes was helping Delia and the Potters prepare breakfast (and Johnny cakes), as was their custom; and the children were bouncing around the room and being a nuisance, as was their custom. Only the two detectives and the pirates were absent, the former both dressing and bathing, the latter group still being asleep.

  Flora Phipps was curious. Usually by this time of the morning Captain Blackjack could be heard scuttling and muttering in his cage under the black hood. But this morning—not a peep.

  “Sister,” she said to Fauna, “I have a feeling—and it isn’t a good one!”

  “I’m afraid I do too, sister.”

  And here, Flora’s eyes enlarged behind her eyeglasses. “The bird. . . he’s too quiet.” A worried Fauna nodded and queried, “Dare we look?”

  “Surely, it would be all right,” replied Flora conspiratorially, as she looked about, then rolled her eyes. “Besides, he won’t be up for another couple of hours yet.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Fauna impishly, “Oh, let’s do it! Just a peek.”

  At that Flora lifted the edge of the black hood and let out a gasp. “Oh, my!”

  Fauna Phipps pulled the cover back completely and cried out in horror.

  Captain Blackjack was dead!

  Flora shrieked and Fauna fainted.

  Everyone came on the run, including Riggs and Bellows who had just descended the stairs. As the Potters endeavored to resuscitate Fauna Phipps, the two detectives turned their attention toward Captain Blackjack. Sergeant Bellows gave him a cursory examination, and muttered in a low voice, “Great galloping golly-whoppers!” He said to Kelly Riggs, “Sir, if I could have a word,” then pulled the inspector aside.

  “The bird did not die naturally I’ll tell you that right off. Should we keep it for now, or let them in on it?”

  Kelly Riggs frowned and sighed briefly, then reached a decision. “Sergeant, let’s let them in on it. Whoever did this, had a reason. And if they know we’re on to them, it may spur them into action and give the show away.”

  So, they imparted the sad and terrible news, which instantly cast a pall over the group. Little Jenny began to cry, and had to be comforted by Kendra Danes, Mandy and Michael. The cage was recovered with the black cloth, now literally a shroud. Finally, they ate their breakfast in gloomy silence.

  It was left to Dinky Potter to wake the Captain. He pounded for some minutes on the pirate’s door before the latter appeared in his nightshirt, disheveled and yawning. “Captain come quickly! It’s—it’s Captain Blackjack.”

  Dressing quickly, the Captain stumbled out the door and down the stairs behind Dinky Potter, only coming fully awake when he saw the expressions of the others surrounding the birdcage. He cried out, “What’s it? What’s wrong?” He turned to the stairs, and called up hoarsely, “Mateys! Avast ye! Mr. Gee! Mr. Shark! Mr. Graves! On yer heads! On yer heads!” Within a few seconds the others came tumbling down the stairs, moving more quickly than any thought they were capable of. By this time the Captain had moved haltingly up to the cage.

  “Oh, no, my little friend! Oh, no, no, no…”

  The Captain’s eyes glazed, and he called out dramatically:

  “Rum! I must have rum!”

  Then he reached into the cage and took the deceased Captain Blackjack to his bosom and collapsed on his stool. He controlled himself with great effort. “The finest friend a man ever had.” He placed the bird back in the cage. Then he broke down, even sobbing a bit, until Dinky brought his rum. Finally, he put the bird back in the cage, and took two hard swigs of rum, that seemed to steady him. He drank deeply once, then again. This seemed to calm him, and he drank the rest down. “Rum! Dinky, me laddie! Here,” he reached in his pocket
and pulled out the sixteen shillings. “This’ll take care of it—mugs all around for me Mates.” He sat perched on his stool there at the bar, clenching his fist, his emotions raging. His mates hovered anxiously around, showing genuine concern. Dinky began pouring out the rum.

  The Captain turned to Riggs and Bellows, bit his lower lip and mugged, “But here ye are to hound me, just when I’ve lost the best friend a man ever had. Yes, the best friend I ever, ever had—” His voice cracked, and he broke down sobbing.

  Maynard Gee looked hurt and patted the Captain hard on the shoulder. He said stupidly, “But Captain, you said I was yer bestus friend in the whole world! Well, I know you’ve said so, many a time—”

  “Ughh!” With a cry, the Captain jerked his tear stained face upright, and shook off the pawing Mr. Gee. “Mr. Gee, be still!” He paused, his lip quivering. “You were me second best friend,” he mumbled, “but now, now that this ... now that he’s...gone—I guess you’re, you’re me first best.”

  “What about me?” asked Digger Graves.

  “And me?” cried Cutty Shark.

  Then the mates began to argue loudly over who was the best friend of whom, but the Captain was again beside himself. He belched loudly and called, “Mateys, a toast! Here’s to Captain Blackjack!”

  “To Captain Blackjack!” they said in unison.

  The drink seemed to be having the desired effect upon the captain, who turned slowly and asked, “Now, what happened? How did he die? Who’d kill me little friend? Tell me! If yer a Chief Inspector Whatever, you’ve got to do somethin’ about it! It’s against the law I tell yer!” Suddenly, he pointed an accusing finger at a startled Dinky Potter. “Why, why… uh, Potter! Potter did it! You! Yes, you! You always hated Captain Blackjack.” The wild looking dark eyes rolled about. He swayed momentarily and lurched around, then pointed his shaking finger at Digger Graves. “And you! You were always jealous of losin’ him to me in that game o’ the same name.”