Castaways of the Flying Dutchman fd-1

by Brian Jacques

  downstairs room where she slept. When he returned to the kitchen, Ned was standing alert, watching the door. He

  communicated a thought to his master.

  "Keep quiet, mate. There's somebody outside!" The patter of receding footsteps sent Ben hurrying to the door.

  He opened it in time to see the fat form of Tommo, scurrying through the gateway. A note had been fixed to the door

  with a tack. After allowing Ned out to check the garden for other intruders, Ben took the note in and read it. Wilf's

  hand was useless for writing, he had dictated it to Regina, but her spelling and grammar were no better than his. Ben

  smiled as he perused the untidy pencil scrawl.

  I carn't fight you cos my hand is dammiged, but I want to

  talk too you. Be outside Evans's shop tomorrow night, ten

  minnits before midnight.

  W.S., Grange Gang Leader.

  P.S. You better be their!

  Ned trotted in from the garden, shaking his head. "No sign of anyone out there, Ben, what's in the note?"

  The boy folded the paper and shoved it in his pocket. "Just another of Wilf's little games, tell you tomorrow.

  What say we go to bed now, eh, pal?"

  The Labrador wagged his tail lazily. "Good idea. Oh no, look who's at the window!"

  It was Horatio. He had followed the dog outside and Ben, not knowing, shut the door on him. The cat stood

  tapping the windowpane and meowing plaintively. Ben let him in by the window, and Horatio cleared the sink in one

  smooth leap. Landing lightly on the floor, he glared accusingly at Ned.

  Ben chuckled. "What's he saying?"

  Ned translated the cat's thoughts. "The usual gobbledy-gook: sardines, milk, butterflies, mice, and so on. Says

  he likes being out of a night, but prefers to finish his milk inside." The big dog drained his cocoa bowl.

  "Sensible cat. Come on, Ned, bed for us. Good night, Horatio."

  Ned followed his master upstairs, chuntering to himself. "Sensible cat, my paw! Great, foolish furball, more like

  it!"

  27.

  EARLY-MORNING SHOPPERS WERE drifting into Chapelvale village square, and shopkeepers splashed

  pails of water about, cleaning their section of walkway and entrance. A market gardener was delivering fresh

  vegetables and flowers to the green-grocers; the gardener's horse clopped its metal-shod hoofs against the

  cobblestones, causing sparks to fly.

  Feeling slightly crestfallen, Ben arrived at the back of the almshouse only to find Alex and Amy already there

  with the old seaman. Furthermore, Amy had already solved the "Luke to the left" problem. Ben did not show his

  disappointment, telling himself that it was better for the villagers to help themselves anyway. He smiled at Amy.

  "Clever bit of thinking that, L for Luke and L for left. I lay for ages trying to sort it out in bed last night—my

  mind was a blank. Good job you solved it, Amy."

  Jon sat down on the window ledge, stroking his beard. "Aye, our Amy's a bright girl, but it still don't solve

  much. Turn to the left yourself, Ben. What do you see?"

  Ben did as Jon bid him, looking off to the left in a straight line. "Hmm, nothing much, just the usual countryside,

  trees, farmland, some fields, and the church on top of the hill."

  Amy stood alongside him. "We're looking for the house named for the rock, though what that's supposed to be

  goodness knows."

  Alex had an idea. "Maybe there's a house or a cottage out there called Gibraltar; that's a rock. Sometimes people

  name their house after a place they've visited. Or a religious person might have named their house after the Rock of

  Ages, like in the hymn."

  Ben nodded. "You could be right. Are there any places out there like that, named after a rock? Who'd know a

  thing like that?"

  Jon stood up. "Mr. Braithwaite will know. Let's go and ask him."

  As they were about to pull the heavy door of the almshouse shut behind them, a voice called out. "Now then,

  young 'uns, she's runnin' fine today!"

  A cheery, ruddy-faced fellow, clad in dairyman's smock and gaiters, reined up a smartly varnished gig, pulled

  by a dun mare. Ben followed Amy and Alex as they ran to greet him.

  "Good morning, Will." Amy patted the mare's flank. "Is Delia over her colic? She looks well!"

  He eyed the mare fondly. "Ole Delia's bright as a button, thanks to your dad. I don't know what was in that

  medicine he gave her, but it certainly got rid of her colic. I've just finished my milk'n'eggs round, why don't you come

  up to the farm for a visit? Eileen'd be pleased to see you. Hi, Jon Preston, you ole hermit. Fancy a cup o' decent tea an'

  some scones up at my farm'ouse?"

  Moments later they were in the gig, all sitting on empty milk churns and egg crates, as Delia jogged spiritedly

  up the back lane toward the hill beyond.

  Alex looked around. "Where's Ned?"

  Ben shrugged. "Oh, that fellow, he's probably off exploring somewhere. Don't worry about the old boy, he'll

  find us when he wants to. Is it far to the farm?"

  Alex gestured up ahead. "About halfway up the hill, it's called Hillside Farm. Will Drummond is our local dairy

  farmer. His family've had a place up there for centuries. My dad often tends his animals when they're ill. He says

  Will's a good man, you'll like him. Bet his mother knows if there's a place named after a rock hereabouts. She knows

  everything!"

  Will's wife, Eileen, was a bustling lady with an ever-present smile. Holding an infant of just over two years on

  her forearm, she came out into the cobbled farmyard to meet them. "Look, liddle Willum, 'ere's daddy, an' friends with

  him, too. Come on, Delia my beauty, I got an apple for ye!"

  Introductions were made all around. Ben and Alex helped the dairyman unload the empty churns and eggboxes

  before going in for tea.

  Eileen Drummond's scones, served with clotted cream and strawberry jam, were a real treat. As they ate, Ben

  explained all they were doing in an effort to save Chapelvale but how time was running out. And how they couldn't

  figure out a house named for a rock.

  It was cool and shady in the old, low-beamed farmhouse, with its whitewashed walls, tile floor, and little

  bull's-eye-paned windows. Will's mother, Sarah, sat installed in her wing chair by the fireplace, a Bible upon her knee,

  listening carefully until Ben finished talking. She was a bright, alert little woman, quick and bird-like in her actions.

  Drawing a knitted black shawl close around her narrow shoulders, she shook her head disapprovingly at Jon and

  his three young friends and tapped the Bible meaningfully. "Place named after the rock?

  "Hah, I can tell you haven't read your scriptures properly. But that's no surprise. Most folk these days don't seem

  to have the time to heed the word of the Lord!"

  Will chided her gently. "Now now, Ma. Don't take on so. Just 'cos folks don't study scripture all the time,

  doesn't mean they ain't good people. Look at me, I don't read the Bible a lot, but I'm honest an' hardworking."

  His mother gave him a hard stare. "Ye'd be a lot better if ye did, Will, an' your friends, too. They should know

  what the Lord said to his disciple. 'Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church'! 'Tis written here in the

  good book. So then, tell me, what's the name o' the church atop of this hill?"

  Will blurted out, "St. Peter's!"

  The old woman could not help looking slightly smug as she sat back, patting her Bible. "Tell me the rest of your

  puzzle."

  Alex recited the lines from memo
ry:

  " ' 'Twixt here and there you must stop to drink, your first reward to unlock.' "

  Eileen smote the table so hard that she almost upset her teapot. "I got it!"

  Baby Willum thought it was a good game, and he began banging on the tabletop and giggling. Eileen passed

  him to his father. "Go to Daddy, there's a good lad. I got it, I solved your rhyme! Hillside Farm is 'alfway 'twixt the

  almshouse an' St. Peter's church. We're the only place 'round 'ere with a well!"

  Will bounced the baby up and down on his knee. "Ain't yore mum the clever one, babe Willum!"

  The old seaman leaned across the table, his scone and tea forgotten. "I never knew you had a well here."

  Will allowed the baby to slide down and toddle across to Amy. "Been a well on this land as long as there's been

  a farm. Come on, I'll show it ye."

  Across the farmyard from the milking shed was a separate stone building, used as a storehouse. Will lit a lantern

  and hung it from a center beam. Sacks of potatoes, carrots, turnips, and root vegetables ranged around the walls.

  Cheeses lay on a wooden platform and hams hung from the rafters. In the center stood the well, housed by a circular

  stone wall with a bucket and pulley.

  Eileen leaned over the wall and shuddered. "Dark ole place 'tis, though the water's cold an' sweet."

  Will wound the bucket down. They heard it splash into the water below. He hauled it up, filled to the brim.

  "Best water in the county, I reckon. It comes from an underground stream, purified by the limestone an' clear as a bell.

  What d'you reckon to look for down there?"

  Jon stared down into the darkness. "The first reward."

  Eileen chuckled. "No reward for you, Jon Preston, you're far too big 'n' heavy to fit into a water pail."

  Immediately, Ben volunteered. "I'll go down!"

  Armed with another smaller lantern, Ben sat astride the water pail. Jon and Will manned the pulley handle, the

  latter giving instructions. "There's some tools o' mine in the bucket if you need 'em. Go careful now, lad, and keep

  tight hold of that rope."

  The pulley creaked as the two men lowered Ben down into the wellshaft. Amy stood by, holding little Willum's

  hand. "What's it like down there, Ben?"

  The boy's voice echoed up out of the shaft. "Just an old circular wall, nothing much to see. I'll look at one side

  on the way down and the other side on the way up. Hold that, Will! My feet are touching water!"

  Jon peered down at the light far below. The rope began straining and going from side to side. He called down.

  "Steady on, Ben. Don't bounce about so much!"

  "I'm just turning around so I can see the other half of the wall." His voice echoed. "There, that's better, haul up

  slow now!"

  Will and Jon bent their backs to the task. They had not given more than four full turns when Ben yelled, "Stop!

  Lower away a touch ... a bit more___There, that's it!"

  Alex poked his head over. "What is it, Ben, what've you found?"

  "One of the wall stones, bigger than the rest. Twice as large. It's not cemented in like the others . . . someone's

  jointed it in with lead. Wait a moment!"

  There was a dull thudding of hammer and chisel, then Ben called up. "Aye, it's lead. Easy to get out, it's very

  old and perished. I can almost pull it out by hand."

  A splashing sounded from below, followed by the boy's voice. "Sorry, Will, some of it has fallen into the

  water."

  The young farmer leaned over the edge. "Don't you worry about that, boy, the stream'll wash it away. Let the

  stone go if you have to."

  They could hear Ben grunting with exertion as he maneuvered the heavy stone, pushing it back and forth, using

  the chisel as a lever, reporting his progress as he went. "I've got it almost half out! Whew, it's a big 'un, but it's moving

  fairly well. Shall I try to get it into the bucket, Will?"

  "No, the weight would be too much, lad. Let it go!"

  This was followed by a booming splash, as Ben shouted out. "Well, that cooled me down. I'm soaked. Wait, I've

  got my arm in the hole where the stone was. There's something here!"

  Little Willum joined in the cheering that broke out. Ben yelled above the din. "I've got it, haul away, me

  hearties, take me up. I've got it!"

  Alex and Amy joined Will and Jon, helping to turn the handles.

  Ben arrived, beaming over the wellshaft at them. "Let's get it out into the light for a proper look, pals!"

  Eileen cleared the farmhouse table off, and they set the odd-looking object on it: a muddy lump, about twice the

  size of a normal house brick.

  Ben prodded it. "Anyone fancy a guess at what it is?"

  Eileen stopped little Willum trying to climb upon the table. "Dirty ole thing, what d'you reckon 'tis, Ma?" she

  asked.

  Will's mother reached out a stick-like finger and scraped it across the lump, then brought it close to her face.

  "Hmm, won't know 'til we get all that tallow off it."

  The younger boy looked baffled. "Tallow?"

  She rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. "Aye, lad, wax made from animal fat. Tallow."

  Jon took out his clasp knife. "You mean there's something inside that lump of tallow? Let's take a look. Good

  protection, wax is, a thing could stay forever encased in it."

  Eileen stayed the seaman's hand. "Don't cut it, you might damage whatever it is inside. Let me melt it off."

  The object was put in an old iron pot, which Will placed on the stone hearth, right against the fire bars. They

  stood around, watching it. Ben felt the room becoming oppressively hot. Smells of lamp oil and sea-damp clothing

  left to dry off came drifting back to his memory, the sway of deck planking beneath his feet, combined with the

  eternal sound of the restless sea.

  "Oh, I can see a big golden ring!"

  Amy's delighted shout cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. Will's mother was waving her

  apron.

  "Whew, take it out o' my kitchen, gold ring or no. It stinks!"

  Will wrapped a cloth around his hand and carried the pot out by its handle. The iron vessel was quite hot and

  the wax was melting rapidly.

  The boy was glad to be out in the fresh air. The soily sludge around the wax had dissolved and sunk. He could

  see the thing lying in the clear melted wax. It was not a ring; Amy had only glimpsed the rim.

  It was a cup made from gold, an altar chalice!

  The old seaman fished it out with two pieces of twig, then took the cloth from Will and carefully cleaned it off.

  "Well, I never, look what a marvelous thing Saint Luke sent us!"

  The chalice looked as new as the day it was made. Beautifully crafted in solid gold, covered in intricate

  carvings, with four pigeon-egg rubies set in its solid gold base.

  Amy picked the chalice up reverently and held it high, letting the sunlight glint off the gold and rubies.

  "The first reward, but what was it doing halfway down a wellshaft?"

  Ben shrugged. "Who knows. I'd better go and get Miz Winn. She'll want to see this. It must be worth a great for-

  tune."

  Eileen came up with a good suggestion. "Let's make it a surprise for her. I'll make dinner for us all tonight, Ben.

  You tell Miz Winn she's invited. My Will can call at the house this evenin' to pick you both up. Ma ain't seen Winnie

  for ages, have you, Ma?"

  Will's mother bustled back to the farmhouse, calling out, "I'd like to see Winnie. Better get the place cleaned up,

  though. Have to sprinkle some lilac water 'round, to get rid of that ole tallow sme
ll."

  Ned was waiting anxiously for Ben when he got back. Ben patted his friend's head. "Where've you been, mate?

  You missed cream tea and scones up at Drummond's farm. Oh, I've got something to tell you."

  The black Lab allowed himself to be stroked as he passed on a thought. "I've got something to tell you first, Ben.

  I went up to Smithers's house and heard Wilf plotting with his gang. I was by the back hedge when I heard them

  talking on the lawn. Listen to this. They're terrified of Jon. Had some trouble with him. Call him the Mad Professor.

  But they don't know that you've met him. Wilf is going to dare you to go inside the almshouse at midnight. He

  reckons Jon will eat you alive, or whatevers it is that Mad Professors do to whoever goes into their almshouses. Just

  thought you'd like to know."

  Ben shook his head and grinned. "Then I'll just have to look sufficiently frightened when he dares me. Wait'll I

  tell Jon. Now, let me tell you what I found today...."

  28.

  MRS. WINN PUT ASIDE HER WORRIES temporarily. She was delighted to be asked out to dinner despite

  more signs having been tacked to every public building in the village. She knew the Drummond family well, and had

  not been up to the farm since Captain Winn had passed away. She became quite excited when Ben hinted that an

  important clue had been found, but even though she pressed him, he would say no more. Whistling up his dog, Ben

  went off down the driveway. He wanted to discuss the coming night's events with Jon. The old lady watched the pair,

  suddenly glad that she had taken in the boy from the sea and his black dog. She had a feeling events were starting to

  move along, things were about to happen. Mrs. Winn allowed herself a brief shudder of anticipation.

  The rest of her afternoon was spent rummaging out her wardrobe for something pretty to wear at dinner.

  The old lady was putting the finishing touches to her hairpins when Will drove Delia to the gate. Alex and Amy

  were with him. The Labrador loped out and met Delia, decided immediately that they would be friends, and stayed by

  the horse's side. The old seaman came striding jauntily up, his beard combed and a fresh red kerehief bound around

  his neck. He helped Mrs. Winn up into the gig and they were off.

  The dinner was a success, thanks to Eileen and Will's mother: roast beef and potatoes with all the trimmings,