Introductions were made all around. Ben and Alex helped the dairyman unload the empty churns and egg-boxes 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 memory:
“ ‘ ’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 fortune.”
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 smell.”
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 whatever 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.WINNPUT 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 kerchief 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, followed by fresh strawberries and cream. Will and Jon cleared the table whilst the ladies sipped glasses of elder-flower wine, which Amy and Alex’s mother had sent along. Little Willum dozed off on the sofa, and Ben poured lemonade for his two young friends. Jon and the dairyman came in from the kitchen, carrying a glass of beer apiece.
After supper Will produced the chalice from behind his back and set it on the mantelpiece. It was filled with water and had six white roses in it. Mrs. Winn stared at it, enraptured. “Oh, it’s so beautiful! Does it belong in your family, Sarah?”
Will’s ma smiled. “No, it belongs in your family, Winnie!”
While Eileen and Will’s ma excitedly related the tale of the discovery, Will showed something to the others.
“Miz Winn ain’t the only one gettin’ a surprise this evenin’. Look what I found when I was emptyin’ the wax from that pot.” He placed a flat piece of wood, about eight inches long by an inch wide, upon the table. It was dark, greasy, and well preserved from the tallow that had encased it.
Ben turned it over, running his thumbnail over the wood. “There’s some carving on it—hard to make out, though.”
Alex produced a pencil stub from his pocket. “Let me try.”
They held the lamp close as he ran the pencil lead inside the carved grooves.
His sister studied the results. “It looks like the letter U carved alongside itself eight times, with some sort of stick-leg creature at each end, very roughly drawn. Looks like two dogs to me.”
The big Lab sniffed disdainfully and pawed at Ben’s hand. “Dogs: indeed? If I were a dog and I looked like that, I’d drown myself. I’d say it looks more like two horses. You tell her, pal, go on, defend your friend the dog!” Ben did, and Will and Jon were inclined to agree with him.
At the other end of the table Mrs. Winn held the chalice lovingly. “Thank you, all of you, this is the most marvelous discovery. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I wish that it had been something less beautiful and more practical, like the deeds to Chapelvale. That’s what I really need.”
The farmer’s normally cheerful face darkened. “Aye, that rogue Smithers ain’t even made us an offer for Hillside Farm yet. I wouldn’t let him over the pasture fence. Still, if they started a quarry an’ a factory, we’d be forced to leave. A man can’t dairy farm with all kinds o’ blastin’ an’ machinery chuggin’ night ’n’ day. My business’d be ruined. It ain’t right, I tell you, it just ain’t right!”
Eileen lifted the sleeping baby from the couch. “We know that, m’dear, but they got the law an’ big-business friends in London, aye, an’ plenty o’ money, too. All we got is good intentions an’ time that’s gettin’ shorter by the day.”
The blue-eyed boy interrupted. “But we’ve got the golden chalice and this carved stick, which has got to be some kind of clue. We can’t give up. Who knows, the next thing we turn up may be the deeds. With the value of that chalice and the deeds to the land, we’d soon have the upper hand!”
Jon stared hard at the stick, scratching his beard. “But where do we look? There may be a clue to the carvings on this stick, but there’s no words, no rhyme, no riddle. Maybe the carvings are describing someplace, eight letter Us and what we think is a horse . . . where’s that?”
Will’s ma spoke up. “Would a map of the area help ye?”
Ben felt a tremor of anticipation. “Have you got one?”
Without a word, Sarah Drummond went off to her bedroom. She returned with a framed picture. It was a child’s picture of St. Peter’s church on the hilltop, drawn in lead pencil and colored neatly in with colored wax crayons.
Will flushed to the roots of his hair. “Oh, Ma, you ain’t goin’ to show ’em that ole thing, I was but ten years old when I drew that in school.”
She shook her head, reading out the writing across the top. “Master William Drummond. Aged nine years. Class 3a.”
Ben studied it. “Pretty good for a nine-year-old, Will.”
Will’s ma slit the pasted backing strip with her fingernail. “Aye, Will drew it for me, I’ve always liked it. But that’s not what I want to show you. Take a look at this.” From behind her son’s childhood artwork, Sarah slid out a paper, yellowed with age.
“ ’Tis an ancient map of Chapelvale village an’ its surroundings!” She unfolded two creases where the map had been folded under, one toward the top and the other toward the bottom of the map, commenting, “I can remember lookin’ at this when I was a little girl, don’t know who put it there, or where it came from, but as you see, the map is bigger’n the frame. Whoever put it there had to fold the paper to make it fit. It’s a very old map of hereabouts, but except for the railway station an’ one or two other bits, Chapelvale ain’t changed much, has it. Now then, missy, can you read the writin’ on the parts that were folded under? My eyes ain’t up to it.”
Amy held the map up to the lamplight and read haltingly. “ ‘E.D.W. Anno Domini . . . 1661’! That’s what it says along the top. The bottom bit has two lines of writing:“Lord, if it be thy will and pleasure,
Keep safe for the house of De Winn thy treasure.”
The old ship’s carpenter’s voice shook with excitement. “Ben lad, those are the very words written on the two bits o’ paper I glued together. Here, look, I’ve got it with me!” He took the repaired paper from his back pocket and read out the lines triumphantly:“Lord, if it be thy will and pleasure,
Keep safe for the house of De Winn thy treasure.”
“Word for word, the same! Well, sink me!”
Ben found himself laughing at his friend’s delight. “Don’t sink just yet, mate. Let’s take a look at them together—the writing seems the same. E.D.W. Ah, Edmund De Winn!”
Alex made a very sensible suggestion. “Your thin paper is almost like tracing paper, Jon. Why don’t you lay it on top of the map and see if the writing matches up?”
Jon passed the thin paper to Amy. “My hand’s beginning to shake with excitement, you do it.”
Brushing her dark hair aside, the girl placed the map flat on the table. With careful precision, she laid the thin paper on top, nudging it gently until the two lines of writing were exactly on top of each other.
[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman Page 16