by Helen Wells
Cherry blushed. “What about Bill? He’s getting awfully bored in sick bay.”
“That’s right,” Kirk agreed. “I’m sending him back to his own quarters tonight. After Christmas he can be given easy jobs, although he’ll wear the cast for several weeks.”
“Then after his eight-o’clock checkup I can consider him as discharged?”
“I’ll check him at eight myself,” Kirk said. “And then discharge him from sick bay. You’ll be busy with Timmy anyway. Sure you don’t mind bunking in his room tonight? It doesn’t exactly come under the heading of one of your duties, you know.”
“It’ll be fun,” Cherry said. “He’s a lamb.”
Dr. Monroe glanced at his watch. “We may as well have dinner now. It’s almost time. If we go early we can get a table together.”
Dinner was a pleasant interlude in Cherry’s busy day. It was “Kirk” and “Cherry” from the crab-meat cocktails right down through lobster Newburg and cheese and crackers.
Brownie, from the table behind Kirk’s back, went through all sorts of motions signifying jealousy and a broken heart. Cherry could hardly keep a straight face.
After dinner she went to her cabin and packed a little overnight kit. Timmy was ecstatic when he heard Cherry was going to sleep in the other twin bed.
“We’ll play guessing games all night long,” he announced. “First!”
“All right,” Cherry said as she plugged in the vaporizer kettle. “You go first.”
Wriggling, but speaking slowly and carefully, as though he had just learned the question by heart, Timmy asked:
“Why did the pirate bring his cutlass and pistol to the corner?”
“I give up,” Cherry said after a moment. “Why?”
“Cause he didn’t know whether to cut across the street or shoot down the alley!” Timmy announced triumphantly.
Cherry laughed and came back with: “Why did the moron go to the zoo on the night before Christmas?”
“That’s too easy,” Timmy chortled. “To buy some Christmas seals, ‘course!”
Mrs. Crane came in then and watched interestedly while Cherry gave Tim a bed bath and changed the sheets.
“It looks so easy when you do it,” she admitted. “But I will try tomorrow if you’ll let me.”
Timmy looked up, wide-eyed. “Is Mummy going to give me a bath?”
Cherry nodded. “She certainly is. And she’s going to rub your back with some nice, sweet-smelling powder too. Then, if it’s a nice day, she’s going to help you get dressed and take you out on deck for a while.”
Timmy looked doubtful. “Can she tie shoelaces?”
“Of course,” Cherry assured him.
“That’s good,” Timmy said, relieved. “Cause Nanny can’t. They always come undone.”
“Your mummy,” Cherry went on quickly, “will teach you how to tie your own shoelaces so they won’t come undone any more.”
“I’ll show you how to tie them in double knots the way my mother showed me, Timmy,” Mrs. Crane said bravely.
Timmy went off on another tangent. “Henry’s going to show me how to tie a bowline. That’s the kind of knot you use when you want to hang somebody from the mast.” He grinned impishly up at Cherry as Mrs. Crane hurried away to dinner. “Say, Cherry, did you hear about the sailor who climbed the fifty-foot mast and fell bang! down on the deck?”
“Oh, my goodness,” Cherry gasped. “How awful. The poor man!”
“Poor man nothin’,” Timmy sniffed. “He didn’t even get hurt.”
“Timmy Crane,” Cherry said. “You’re fibbing.”
Timmy bounced in glee. “’Course he didn’t get hurt, silly. He only climbed up two feet.”
“Who’s been telling you all these jokes, Tim?” Cherry asked suspiciously.
“Henry,” Timmy said. “He’s still looking for my Fuzzy-Wuzzy, you know. He came knocking on the door while you were gone, pe-tending he came to see Mummy. But course he really came to see me. Also, Mummy told him she wanted to see how Jan’s mummy was feeling so Henry said he’d play games with me until she came back. Also, he didn’t find Fuzzy-Wuzzy,” he finished, exulting.
As Cherry took Timmy’s temperature she said quietly, “May Jan and I look for Fuzzy-Wuzzy sometime too?”
“Jan,” Tim said in disgust. “She couldn’t find anything. But you can play, Cherry.”
Cherry saw that his temperature had gone up, as was to be expected at that hour, to 101°. “What is Fuzzy-Wuzzy, anyway?” she asked, mildly curious. “Another duck?”
“Duck?” Tim fell back on the pillows. “Course not! He’s my black-and-white bear. Nanny says he’s a panda, but I know he’s a bear.”
“Didn’t you ever see the pandas at the zoo, Timmy?” Cherry asked.
“Sure. But they’re bears too.”
Cherry corrected him gently. “They’re not, Timmy. They don’t even belong to the bear family.”
“So what?” Timmy said airily. “I asked Granny to give me a Teddy bear for my birthday. And she gave me Fuzzy-Wuzzy. So I pe-tend he’s a bear.”
Cherry wondered about Granny, pretty little Mrs. Crane’s mother-in-law. Why couldn’t she have given the child what he asked for? Cherry shrugged. Probably because she considered a panda more modern. Would the domineering grandmother try to run Timmy’s life too? Cherry hoped not. There was still time for young Mrs. Crane to take matters in her own hands.
“Once she’s put in entire charge of Timmy’s care,” Cherry decided, “she’ll never turn him over to Nanny again. Gradually, I’ve got to make her assume the responsibility herself.”
Cherry, after her sleepless night during the storm, was glad to undress and go to bed as soon as Timmy had had his medication and inhalation.
They played guessing games until they both fell asleep simultaneously in the middle of a question. Cherry had set her alarm for 11:45, but she awoke with a start at ten.
Timmy was quietly sobbing in the other bed: “I want my Fuzzy-Wuzzy. I want my Fuzzy-Wuzzy.”
Cherry scrambled to his bed and took him in her arms. He was half awake, half dreaming. She said comfortingly: “I’ll get him for you, honey. Tell me where you hid him.”
But he only kept on sobbing: “I want my Fuzzy-Wuzzy. I have to have my Fuzzy-Wuzzy.”
Cherry searched every nook and cranny in the cabin. There was no sign of a little black-and-white panda. Timmy would not stop crying. Cherry looked into the other room and saw that Mrs. Crane had not yet returned from dinner. She was no doubt dancing in the club, taking advantage of Cherry in the capacity of both nurse and “sitter.”
Timmy began to punctuate his sobs with sharp, racking coughs. That would never do.
Gently, Cherry shook him until he was more fully awake. “I can’t find your Fuzzy-Wuzzy,” she said. “You must tell me where you hid him. Then I’ll get him for you right away.”
Timmy looked doubtful. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Timmy’s shoulders stopped shaking immediately. “He’s in the swimming pool,” he said.
Cherry gasped. “In the pool? How on earth did he get there?”
“I dropped him,” Timmy said. “Early this morning while Mummy was still asleep, I went out to see that pool. And Fuzzy-Wuzzy said he wanted to go swimming. So I let him go.”
“Oh, Timmy,” Cherry moaned. “Did he sink right away?”
“Not right away,” Timmy told her. “He floated around looking up at me. And then I couldn’t see him any more. He went under the diving board.”
The little panda must be at the bottom of the pool now, in the shadow of the diving board. That was why nobody had seen him and returned him to Timmy. There were no other children aboard ship.
“I’m sorry, Timmy, I can’t get him for you,” Cherry said desperately. “I’m not allowed to go in the pool.”
Timmy’s face flamed. “You
promised,” he shouted in uncontrollable rage. “You promised!”
“I know I did,” Cherry admitted regretfully. “But I thought Fuzzy-Wuzzy was in your room somewhere.”
“You knew he wasn’t,” Timmy howled, “I tole you so. I told you Henry was freezing when he looked around in here.”
“Oh, dear,” Cherry sighed inwardly. “How can I ever make this little boy understand rules and regulations? He’ll think I just don’t want to keep my promise. He won’t trust me any more and I’ll never be able to do another thing with him.”
Timmy’s tirade made it all too clear that Cherry, if she refused to keep her promise, was “out” as far as Timmy was concerned. “I won’t stay inside my tent,” he yelled. “I won’t eat anything. I won’t drink anything. I won’t stay covered up, I’ll jump overboard and get all drownded. Then you’ll be sorry!”
He screamed on and on, between spasms of coughing.
Cherry said as calmly as possible: “I’ll ring for a steward, Timmy. Waidy will get your bear for you.”
“Don’t want Waidy to get him. Want you to get him. You promised.”
“Waidy will get your mother, Timmy,” Cherry said, without much hope. “She’ll bring you back Fuzzy-Wuzzy.”
“No, she won’t!” Timmy kicked off the covers and straggled to get out of bed. “I tole her to get him this morning. She’s an ole ’fraidy-cat. Scared to go in deep water.”
Cherry gave up. After all, what harm was there in her taking a quick dip in the pool? It was a silly restriction anyway, as Ziggy had pointed out: “As though you and Doc, the cleanest people aboard ship, might contaminate the water.”
Doc! That reminded Cherry of Rule 7. “When in doubt the ship’s nurse is always to consult the ship’s surgeon.”
But that meant disturbing Kirk’s rest. He had had no sleep the night before either.
And Timmy was now in a dangerous state of excitement. She must act quickly. The chances were that none of the passengers would recognize her out of uniform. To most of them, she was nothing but an automaton in a stiffly starched white dress and cap. Charlie’s Christmas present would be a perfect disguise.
“All right,” she said to Timmy, tucking him back in bed. “I’ll get your little bear. But you’ve got to keep covered while I’m gone.”
Timmy’s sobs immediately subsided. “I knew you would, Cherry.” He grinned. “You’re just like me. You always keep your promises. I won’t get out of bed even if a big ’normous pirate comes in and chops off my head.”
Cherry hugged him. “Nobody’s going to chop off your head. Ill bring Fuzzy back just as soon as I can.”
She raced down the corridor, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her, and her thoughts raced too. Perhaps the missing panda was the answer to the missing ambergris. Timmy himself might have found the precious powder in a box or a jar that very first day aboard ship. Like most little boys’ favorite toys, Fuzzy could easily have burst open at the seam that joined its head to its body. And it would be just like Timmy to cram something in that opening.
If that were true, Jan’s ambergris must now be at the bottom of the pool!
In her own cabin Cherry quickly changed from pajamas to the lovely rose taffeta suit. It took but a minute to slip into beach clogs, then with her soft terry cloth robe wrapped around her, she hurried up to the pool.
It was still crowded with passengers, and Cherry mingled with those who were chatting and laughing around the diving board. Nobody paid any attention to her at all.
She caught a glimpse of Jan and a nice looking boy leaning against the rail of the veranda above the pool. Oh, why hadn’t she thought of Jan? Jan would have been delighted to help out. But it was too late now. It would take too long for Jan to change from that long flowered chiffon frock to a bathing suit.
Cherry didn’t dare risk attracting attention by diving off the board. She slipped unobtrusively down the steps. The first dive was unsuccessful. On the second, she saw something dark on the bottom under the board. After the third she came up triumphantly with a very waterlogged little black and white panda. One squeeze told her that it was stuffed with nothing but wet cotton.
“Well,” she thought, shaking herself, “I’ve christened Charlie’s present anyway. So far so good. If I can only get back to my cabin without getting caught!”
Cherry had to admit that she had enjoyed her illegal dip in the cool, salty water of the tiled pool. Refreshed and glowing, she slipped into her robe and clogs. Now to stroll unconcernedly away.
She was halfway down the steps to B deck when she heard someone coming up. In another moment she saw that it was the steward, Waidler, bearing a tray of soft drinks.
Cherry sucked in her breath. Would he recognize her? If he did, he would most certainly report her to the captain. That meant dismissal. Dishonorable discharge, in other words.
Cherry was tempted to turn and flee back up the stairs. But that, of course, would only make matters worse. If she kept right on going as though she had every right in the world to be wandering around in a terry cloth robe at 10:30 P.M., he might not even give her a passing glance.
Gripping the soggy panda, she marched on, head held high. They passed each other on the landing. Out of the corner of her left eye Cherry noted with relief that apparently Waidler had not recognized her. But, a few steps above her, he stopped.
She could feel his eyes boring into her back. Her knees began to wobble, but somehow she managed to keep on going.
CHAPTER XIII
A Stolen Letter
IT WAS A HOT, ALMOST TROPICAL NIGHT, BUT CHERRY WAS shaking as though the ship were plying its way through Arctic icebergs.
Waidler, she felt sure, had recognized her. His attitude from the very beginning had been unfriendly, to say the least. Furthermore, Ziggy had told her that Waidler was a very conscientious steward. Even if he and Cherry were the best of friends, he might well feel that it was his duty to report her. She had flagrantly violated two rules:
“Out of uniform aboard ship.” And, very obviously, “out of bounds.”
He couldn’t have missed her damply curling black hair. Waidler knew that Cherry had been in the pool!
Back in her own cabin, Cherry rubbed herself dry and donned pajamas and wrapper. The bunny-toed scuffs warmed her nervously icy feet. What would the next morning bring?
Dr. Monroe would not be “Kirk” when he reprimanded her. He would he very much the dignified young ship’s surgeon. And the captain—the Old Man—? Would he put her ashore at Curaçao? Bleakly Cherry faced disgrace—the end of her nursing career.
And then, to cap the climax, when she hurried into Stateroom 141, she found Timmy fast asleep, one hand curled peacefully under his fat, rosy cheek.
For a moment Cherry felt like bursting into tears. She should have realized that Timmy couldn’t possibly care very much about his panda. If he had, he would have demanded it a long time ago. He had simply put on a scene—just for the fun of it. And she had foolishly sacrificed her nurse’s reputation to fulfill a childish whim.
“That’s Ames for you,” she told herself sternly. “Always letting the heart rule the head. Will you ever learn?”
But she had her reward when the alarm clock went off an hour later. Timmy’s eyes popped open, and then, when he saw what was sitting damply on his glass-topped bed table, his eyes grew big as saucers.
“My Fuzzy-Wuzzy! My fuzzy little Fuzzy-Wuzzy. I thought you had drownded. But Cherry saved you, didn’t she, Fuzzy?”
Cherry carefully pinned a square of rubber sheeting around the soggy little panda. Timmy cradled him in his arms, crooning:
“Nobody could find you, ’cept Cherry. Cherry’s even smarter than Henry. I tole Henry you were on the bottom of the pool. But he just laughed and laughed. He didn’t b’lieve me.”
Cherry’s heart went out to the little boy. He hadn’t dared hope that he would ever see his panda again. That was why he hadn’t asked for it. To Timmy, the pool must seem as bottomless as
the ocean. The poor lamb had been silently yearning for his pet ever since he had watched Fuzzy float under the diving board.
Suddenly Cherry had a thought. She had already committed two crimes; why not another? All three of them were for the same good cause. She could hear Mrs. Crane coming into the next room now.
“I didn’t save Fuzzy, Timmy,” Cherry said in a clear voice. “Your mother did. When I got to the pool she had already found him. She’s not a ’fraidy cat. She went right into the deep water and dived and dived until she came up with your little bear.”
Mrs. Crane rustled into the bedroom. She looked puzzled, but Cherry silenced her with a quick glance.
Timmy held out his arms. “Mummy, you got my Fuzzy-Wuzzy! You’re just ‘bout the smartest person in the whole wide world.”
Cherry left them hugging each other. In the bathroom she pounded the sulfa tablets to a powder. Then she mixed the medication with a jar of strained apricots. As she approached the bed, Timmy said firmly:
“I want my mummy to feed me.”
Mrs. Crane smiled gratefully up at Cherry. Her lips said, “You darling, you!”
At the moment Cherry was glad she had told a deliberate lie. But the next morning she was not so sure. With Cherry supervising, Mrs. Crane had prepared Timmy’s sulfa mixture, taken his temperature, which was normal, given him his inhalation, bathed and dressed him for breakfast.
“There,” Cherry whispered when they were alone together in the bathroom. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“It was fun,” Mrs. Crane admitted. “As long as the mercury stops at that nice red arrow I guess I can read his temperature all right.”
Cherry turned to go back to Timmy and froze in her tracks. Waidler had just come in with the little boy’s breakfast tray.
Cherry held her breath. Would he accuse her in front of passengers, or would he wait? Had he already reported her?
Waidler was staring, as though fascinated, at the little black and white panda. Timmy displayed his pet proudly:
“See, Waidy? Fuzzy didn’t get drownded after all. My mummy went right into the deep, deep water and got him back for me.”