Summers, True

by Poppy

  It was not the worst. The drape of a stole like that depended on the rich material and the heavy fringe. The hems were never weighted. But Delphine had sewed gold napoleons into that one.

  Had Josie ever possessed a garment that fine? Would she know it should not be weighted? If she discovered it was, and with what, would she guess all Poppy's clothes were literally worth their weight in gold?

  "I don't feel well, Madame," Poppy whispered. "I had better go to my cabin."

  Chapter nineteen

  IN half an hour, Poppy knew Josie had stolen only one of the fashion books and the stole. The lock of the topmost trunk had been forced open, but it held mainly shoes, bonnets, and shawls. Only the handsome stole had appealed to Josie's greedy vanity.

  The fashion book Josie could keep. The stole she had to get back somehow. And she had to make sure Josie helped herself to nothing else from the trunks.

  She must talk to Jack, but she never could remember when he would be free. Those silly bells counted off the half hours, but the watches were divided into four hours or eight hours, and they seemed to change every day. Jack told her that was so each man could get eight unbroken hours of sleep every other night, which sounded like the only sensible thing about the arrangement. Men did so enjoy making simple things complicated.

  When he loomed in the cabin door late that afternoon, Poppy flung herself at him. "Josie opened one of my trunks and took a stole. We've got to get it back."

  Jack examined the broken lock. "Only a stole?"

  "And a fashion book. That doesn't matter."

  "There's no space below decks to stow luggage, and there's no way to lock this cabin," Jack said, examining the locks and straps on the other trunks. "These will never hold, either. I'll have to get some cordage and net them shut so it will take time even to cut into them."

  "Yes, yes," Poppy said. "That, too. She mustn't get anything else. But we've got to get the stole back."

  Jack straightened. "Josie? Isn't she the First Mate's girl?"

  "Yes."

  "Then I can't help you. I'm a seaman, and he's an officer. If I ever disobeyed a direct command or raised a hand to him, even in self-defense, I could be hung from the yardarm. And this Captain's the man who might do it."

  "That can't be true."

  "It is. And you're not to tackle Josie, either. She and the First Mate are a pair, and they're poison. Let her keep the stole."

  "I can't. I can't. I've got to get it back."

  Jack's mouth tightened. "Don't be a greedy soft top. You've got more beautiful clothes in these trunks than any other woman on board. Don't begrudge Josie a stole."

  "It's not the stole."

  ''Then what is it?"

  "The gold napoleons,"

  "What gold napoleons?"

  "The gold napoleons Delphine sewed in all my clothes."

  "There are some in that stole?"

  "Loaded in the hems."

  "Heaven protect and preserve us," Jack said and collapsed on Poppy's bunk.

  "So you see we've got to get it back before she discovers why it is so heavy," Poppy said, frightened by the expression on Jack's face. "Oh, why did Dex do it this way? He's a banker, and there must be banks in San Francisco. Why couldn't he give me a draft I could cash there?"

  "Yes, wherever there's business, the international bankers have connections," Jack admitted. "I don't know about banks. My Yankee friend was warning me to have a good money belt when I went ashore there and said if he hit it rich, he'd have to find a businessman with a safe to hold the gold until he sailed. Maybe the banks are small and local."

  "Bankers still deal together," Poppy said fiercely. "Dex could have done this some other way. Unless he's ashamed, ashamed of me, and didn't want anybody in San Francisco to know of our connection. That must be it. Oh, I hate him, I hate him. I despise him."

  "Poppy, stop raving and yelling. Do you want everybody to hear? Dex saved your life when he got you on this boat. Remember that and quiet down and let me think."

  ''The Captain," Poppy said, her mind darting back to what lack had said. "The Captain can do anything. He can get back my stole. He can keep my trunks safe."

  "Poppy, quiet down. Don't say anything to the Captain or even look at him. I've been at sea since I was a boy, and I've sailed under some hard men, but this is the only one who ever frightened me. He wouldn't be Captain of a shipload of passengers like this unless he had the reputation of being able to handle anything and stop at nothing. The First's a mincing dandy by comparison."

  "Then what are we going to do?"

  ''Exactly what I suggested at first. Net the trunks so nothing else can be taken. And pray Josie values that stole so she guards it against the smallest snag."

  "If either Andy or I stay right here every single minute?"

  "On guard? So everybody wonders what you're guarding, and the whole ship's buzzing? And trying to get in to see what you've got in here? No. I'll bring the cordage in under my jacket. Nobody wonders to see me go in and out. You and Andy go on exactly as you've been doing every day."

  On deck, people could talk of nothing but Rio. The ship would stay at least two days and two nights for minor repairs and to load fresh supplies. Not only that, the Captain would make special arrangements to permit everybody to spend some time ashore. For the first time, the unapproachable and scowling Captain was popular.

  Jack laughed when Poppy told him that. The ship was not supposed to carry cargo, but the Captain had French wines, laces, porcelains, and other luxuries to trade for his own account. Doubtless a few cases of wine given into the right hands would get him any special privileges he wanted. They certainly would stay in port long enough to allow him to make his price on his wares.

  Passengers with money in their pockets planned to spend the nights ashore. The others would land for a day. Even the steerage passengers, Jack contributed with a small smile, were to be allowed to land. The crew was muttering because having to row everybody back and forth meant little shore leave.

  "You wait until the second day to go ashore with Andy," Jack said. "Take plenty of money and bring back all the fresh fruit an cabin stores you can carry. I'll row extra hours the first day for time off the second. Let them think I want a long roll with the girls ashore."

  "Jack!"

  He grinned. "Then while you're ashore, I'll hide out in the cabin. We don't want anybody to land carrying one of your trunks and saying it's their shore-going gear."

  Counting coins into her reticule made Poppy think of The Prof. She slipped a napoleon in her pocket when she went on deck for her lesson.

  When the lesson was over and The Prof had finished his roll and cheese, Poppy held out the coin. "While you're ashore, get yourself a decent meal or two."

  The Prof shook his head with its scanty gray hair. ''Dear Miss Poppy, I want no pay. Teaching you has been my pleasure. And probably saved my life."

  "Please." Poppy dropped the coin in his coat pocket. "If you don't, I'll only have to give you more of the stores I buy for myself."

  "You won't have to do that."

  "You're insulting me if you refuse."

  The Prof picked up her hand and bent his head over it, but Poppy saw the glint of tears in his eyes. "You know you have my lifelong gratitude."

  Poppy wanted to pat his poor balding head, but she only swore to herself that The Prof would live to reach California if she had to go scant on food herself. Then voices from the rail called, "Land!" and she jumped up, grateful the too emotional moment had been broken, and ran to see for herself.

  Seen from the ship, the mountains along the shore formed the contours of an immense man lying on his back. They passed two islands, and the bay opened before them. Sailing through a narrow passage with the guns of a fort on the right and a high conical peak on the left, they reached a bright, sparkling bay, dotted with beautiful islands, which extended before them for miles inland.

  As they sailed through the entrance of Botafogo Bay, back of the conical mo
untain, Poppy saw beautiful houses on the shore, and beyond them, she could see ranges of hills and mountains covered with luxurious tropical foliage. They anchored among many other ships off the city below Cobras Island, and a boat brought the doctor and other officials out from shore.

  Poppy yearned to be among the first ashore, but she knew Jack's plan was wise. Stili, she felt doubly cheated later when she could not find Madame and The Prof at their usual spot on deck. They must have gone on one of the early boats.

  By the time she and Andy stepped into a boat the next morning, Poppy had heard enough from the ex-cited, exhausted people who had been ashore the first day to know exactly what she wanted to do. She found an open carriage that looked clean, with a well-groomed horse and a driver who spoke a little English, gave him a gold napoleon, and carefully explained what she wanted. Miraculously he seemed to understand completely.

  He drove them through the district of luxury shops where each street was devoted to a different kind of merchandise-jewelry, millinery, shoes, or dry goods. Everybody had insisted the botanical gardens were unparalleled, and the driver nodded vigorously when she repeated the words over and over.

  The road to the gardens was like a garden itself, planted with every variety of tropical fruit and strange, vivid flowers that drenched the air with fragrance. In the gardens, the great display was a fine collection of tea plants. A mountain towered high above the park, and they saw an aqueduct many miles long that crossed a deep valley on two tiers of arches, carrying water to the city.

  When they left the gardens, Poppy thought they were returning to the city. Dreaming over the scenery, so beautiful it seemed to be a dream landscape in an endless painting, she sat up with a start when she realized they had driven around the conical mountain to the area of beautiful homes she had seen from the ship.

  This must be a resort for the wealthy, she realized, with its luxurious dwellings set among towering palms and surrounded by a wealth of flowers. They passed magnificent hotels and faintly heard the music of harps and guitars. They drove along a smooth, broad road that ran around a crescent-shaped bay of crystal clear water, edged with yellow sands. Soon they began to meet elegant carriages filled with ladies in rich dresses of bright colors, accompanied by gentlemen in conventional black.

  A wave of temptation swept over Poppy. If she had her trunks, if she had her gold napoleons, she and Andy could stay in this beautiful place and never go near that horrible, dangerous ship again. They would not have to endure more weeks and months of bad food, fear, and the ceaseless pitching and rocking of the ship that would only end by landing them on a savage shore where anything could happen.

  Except she did not have the gold. Except she could not abandon Jack, who had abandoned everything himself to be with them and protect them. Poppy frowned, puzzling. Sailors talked endlessly about the ports they had seen. Jack might even have been in Rio before on one of Her Majesty's ships. He must have known what a magnificent place it was. When they were talking of the dangers of the ship, he could have suggested they all come ashore. He had gold fever, but he was not so gold-mad he would insist they must go on to California unless he had good reason to distrust a landing here even more.

  The sun was slanting well past midday, and they had not done the one important thing ashore. Poppy called to the driver, "The native market. The native market," and pointed back toward the city. He nodded and turned his carriage. Poppy leaned back, shading her eyes with her hand. The sun was so hot even the sparkling brilliance of the clear air seemed painful.

  Pulling up at a city street comer, the driver pointed down a long street jammed with open stalls and teeming with people, who were shouting and talking at the tops of their voices, laughing and gesturing, moving constantly, elbowing their way up and down and through the crowd.

  Poppy pulled out another napoleon. "You will wait for us?"

  "I wait. One hour. Two hour."

  She poured a handful of silver into Andy's palms. "Find a nice present for Chips and another for Cook. I'm going to get a basket and buy fresh fruit and bread. Look for me at those stalls. And don't you dare get lost."

  "It's all one street," Andy said reasonably. "And you're the only lady wearing a proper hat. I won't lose you."

  Poppy found a large basket with a brilliant geometric design woven into it and two sturdy handles. When she looked at 'the fruit stalls, she felt dizzy. The fruit came in so many sizes and shapes that even the familiar ones began to look strange and exotic. She decided the one's with the toughest rinds would last the best and heaped them in her basket. She was even tempted by the vegetables, but everybody knew to eat those raw would send the stomach into strong convulsions. Still it reminded her how horrid the ship's food was, so she hurried to find the bake stalls. She bought large, heavy loaves of dark bread. At least it did not smell sour, and it did not seem lumpy. Some of the lumps in the ship's bread had a very suspicious aspect. She found sticky rolls and added those by the dozen and some strange flat ovals that looked tasty. When all those were heaped in her basket, she found she could not lift it.

  "Andy," she shrieked. "Andy."

  He popped out of the crowd. ''I've watched you, Poppy. Honest I have."

  He too had found a small basket and loaded it, but Poppy saw only one thing. Tilted jauntily over his shoulder like a gun, Andy had a broad bladed knife, heavy as an ax, with a glittering sharp edge. He held it by its massive handle.

  "What is that thing?"

  "It's a machete, for cutting sugarcane," Andy boasted and tightened his grip as the heavy blade threatened to slip from his slender shoulder. "Or through jungles. I can use it in the jungles of California. See?" He grasped the handle in both hands and tried to swing it. It slipped from his wet palms and slashed down across Poppy's basket, cutting through the corded handles as if they were paper.

  Poppy jumped back, white-faced. ''I could have lost a leg. Or you could. Get rid of that thing. Drop it. Right now. Oh, how on earth are we going to get this basket to the carriage without any handles?"

  "Please, I know, please," Andy cried, jumping up and down. "There was something else the cowboys use that I wanted, too. Only I couldn't afford both. But this cost lots more so if I take it back, maybe they'll let me swap."

  ''No. No. Drop it."

  "But the other is a leather rope thing, Poppy. That we can use to tie up the basket, Just what you need. Please."

  She did not see how they could carry the basket without some kind of rope. Her knees felt weak with exhaustion, and her head ached from the brilliance of the sun. She could not think.

  "All right," she said weakly. "All right. Only hurry."

  Andy cradled the machete in both arms and ran away through the stalls, as Poppy waited. They had stopped once to buy a glass of lemonade from a street vendor, but they had eaten nothing all day. The strange smells, the jostling people, the loud voices, the uneasy feeling of land under her feet after all these weeks. worry about being away from the ship and what might be happening there, an

  were making her feel giddy and sick. She only wanted to get back to the cabin and stretch out in the quiet dark.

  Andy raced back and showed her a long, thin line of leather with a hard ball at each end. "A bola," he panted. "See, it's long enough to tie around your basket twice and still leave handles for us to hold."

  Poppy barely glanced at it. She certainly did not care what Andy intended to do with it. "Tie it on and let's go."

  Chapter Twenty

  THEY were under way again by the time Jack brought hot water for her morning tea. He was intent on looting the basket of fruit, for he had been at the oars of a boat rowing back and forth to shore half the night.

  ''The Captain only called us a gang of one-legged, blind, misbegotten landlubbers, or to be truthful something a little stronger than that, when we rowed him back. He was in a fine humor, as his humors go. His private venture must have gone well. But the steerage cooks caught it this morning."

  "The steerage cooks
?"

  "They counted heads when they served breakfast, and we only lost about twenty passengers. The Captain was hoping for fifty. Think of the saving in food."

  "Lost?"

  "He certainly didn't hold the ship past the tide, but I doubt any were left on the dock, Our Captain simply hadn't counted on gold fever."

  "Gold fever? I'm surprised they didn't all stay there. I was tempted. For all of us."

  Finishing off a piece of fruit, Jack wiped his dripping mouth. "A beautiful blond alone in a Latin country? Without family or introductions? Maybe you'd enjoy being captured by a tribe of wild Indians, too."

  ''I wouldn't have been alone. With you and Andy. And we have money."