Dream of Orchids

by Phyllis A. Whitney

  She sat down abruptly without sipping her wine, spilling a little on the tablecloth. No one else drank to her toast, but Derek smiled at her across the table.

  “Of course we’ll prove the old stories wrong. And now let’s start before our food is cold.”

  Fern didn’t look at him. She picked up the white orchid again and fastened it in her hair. “The curse is already working. I can feel it, even if none of you can. Last night I dreamed about Poppy.”

  I glanced at Cliff and saw his closed look. All day he must have been dealing with memories that wouldn’t leave him alone, and perhaps all his long-buried resentment against Derek had begun to come out.

  In spite of our discomfort, we did our best to enjoy the meal. But though the food prepared for us was delicious, no one seemed hungry. I think all we wanted was to reach the island where we could get safely ashore. Just being in close proximity to such piles of gold was unsettling. Of course I’d seen the arms on board earlier, the crew keeping watch, and even Derek wore a pistol strapped to a belt around his shorts.

  We’d eaten only a little when the first jarring warning came with a bump against the Aurora’s side. We started and looked at one another as something struck again and scraped along near the waterline. Shouting broke out on deck, and a woman screamed. Alida! Derek jumped to his feet, but before he could reach the companionway, Eddie Burch appeared, wild-eyed, his fringe of hair standing up above his ears.

  “Pirates!” he screeched. “We’ve been boarded!”

  “Get the lights off!” Derek shouted to him, and ran for the stairs with his gun in hand. Cliff and Marcus went after him.

  After a moment of stunned silence while we stared at each other, Fern ran up the companionway, and Iris and I followed. We all huddled together in the door for a moment, and I had a glimpse of the nearest deck before the lights went out.

  A man stood alone a few feet away—a big, rough-looking fellow. The bandana he’d worn over his face had slipped, and I saw him for just a second. I knew I’d seen him before. Then darkness came down, blinding me. All around there was shouting and confusion, and several shots were fired.

  “I’ve got to find Alida,” Iris cried, and slipped away before I could stop her. Fern went after her. My eyes were becoming accustomed to moonlight that washed the decks, and I glimpsed my father in his white suit running toward the bow. Without thought, I started after him. Someone I never saw put out a foot and tripped me. I sprawled full length and lay stunned on the wet, slanting deck. I felt spray on my face as the yacht dipped in a swell. The engines had stopped, and the uproar all around seemed to be receding.

  I pushed myself shakily up from the planking and found no one nearby. The man I’d seen had disappeared. I was near the foredeck, and as I clung to the wet handrail, I could just make out my father’s white suit ahead of me in the bow. A shadowy figure stood beside him, but I couldn’t see who it was. Then Marcus found me and pulled me back when I would have gone to Cliff.

  “It’s already over, Laurel. They had the advantage of surprise. Now we’ll have to do what we’re told.” He raised his voice to call to my father. “Come with us, Cliff.”

  Now I could see some of the men who had come aboard—all in seamen’s caps, with handkerchiefs tied across their faces, guns in their hands. Derek’s crew had been outnumbered, and he had been quickly disarmed. All of his treasure from the sea was about to change hands.

  We were pushed roughly toward a rope ladder that dropped to the water, where a dinghy waited for us, bobbing on the waves. Spray soaked me as I clung to rope rungs and lowered myself into the little boat. Iris and Fern were already there, and for once Fern was clinging to her sister.

  Derek himself brought Alida down, and in the light of stars and moon I saw his glazed look and the glitter of his eyes. I think he hardly knew what he was doing. Iris took over with Alida while Marcus and Derek picked up the oars.

  “Wait!” I cried. “Cliff isn’t here. Someone has to find Cliff!”

  It was already too late. Our small boat had been pushed away and the Aurora, her decks and portholes as dark as any ghost ship, was picking up speed as we watched her move away.

  Fern came frantically to life. “We can’t leave Cliff!”

  I tried to put an arm around her, though I felt frantic too. She pushed me away angrily. “You don’t care! You never knew him for most of your life—he’s my father!”

  But there was nothing to do, and no one spoke after that. Derek and Marcus put their backs into rowing. The Aurora had vanished in the darkness, but her fluorescent wake remained, ghostly in itself, marking the path she’d taken away from us toward the Caribbean. The lights of Key West glowed distantly against the sky. Doubloon Key was nearer, and its own lights beckoned us.

  As we crossed the swirling waters of the wake, something on my side of the boat bobbed into view, and I shouted to Marcus, “There’s a man in the water!”

  Marcus rested the oar on his side, and I peered into the black water where something white floated just beneath the surface. Without any doubt, I knew, and my heart seemed to stop beating.

  “It’s Cliff!” Fern screamed, trying to lean over the side of the boat.

  Marcus pulled her back and reached to grasp the collar of Cliff’s white jacket, hauling him toward the boat. Derek helped to pull him in, while our little boat tilted and dipped. They laid him across a wooden seat, and water streamed from him. But there was no possible room for lifesaving techniques. Fern, her dress already soaked, knelt where she could hold his head and shoulders in her arms, the white orchid shining in her hair in the moonlight.

  Marcus and Derek began to row toward the island with renewed effort. Iris sat huddled over, hugging her knees with both arms. I felt too stunned to believe in what was happening. It was all too awful and unreal—like a terrible dream.

  Someone in the boat began to moan—a high-pitched keening sound, like a mourning for the dead. Iris sat up and shook Alida. “Stop that! You’re not helping. Stop it, Alida!”

  The woman froze, clinging to the side of the boat, and her dreadful moaning stopped.

  I spoke to Marcus and Derek. “When you need a break, I can row for a while.”

  After that, Iris and I spelled the men when they rested, and the lights of the island dock came closer. We could see the house now on its rise of ground, with all the lights ablaze, as though whoever was there expected us.

  When we neared the dock, however, no one came to help with the boat.

  “There’s no one here,” Derek said bleakly. “I had my men on board the Aurora. God knows what’s happening to them now.”

  Marcus sprang out and tied up the dinghy at the dock. Then he and Derek lifted Cliff onto the boards and began to work over him.

  The moment I climbed out of the boat, I ran for the house with one idea in mind—a telephone. But that had been taken care of too. I found Derek’s housekeeper wringing her hands and weeping helplessly. The telephone connections had been cut. Whoever had been here had also turned on all the lights. In her fright, Elena’s English had vanished.

  While I was trying to make sense of what she said, Iris came up to the house and stood staring at me blankly.

  “Cliff?” I asked.

  “I think he’s dead. They’re still trying.”

  Iris could understand her, so Elena gave her a garbled account of men in masks. She was still wide-eyed and terrified, but at Iris’s urging, she went off to make coffee for us all.

  There was still a two-way radio kept for emergencies, Iris said. She knew where it was and how to use it. When she finally raised the Coast Guard, Derek had come up to the house, and he explained to them what had happened, asking for help for Cliff.

  It was already too late. He could have been dead when they pulled him from the water. We were all in a state of shock, and worst of all, helpless. Strangely enough, Alida seemed to rally first. She asked Marcus to carry Cliff into one of the bedrooms. Then she found some dry clothes for Fern and sent
her off to change.

  I wished I could cry, but there seemed only a blank emptiness inside me. I was too stunned for tears. After a time, I went outside to look for Derek. He had gone to wait at the dock, where lights still burned, and was watching for the first sign of a Coast Guard boat. I noticed the swelling bruise, crusted with dried blood on his forehead.

  “You’re hurt,” I said.

  “It’s nothing. Somebody hit me.”

  I didn’t know whether he was the right person to talk to now, because of his own loss of a fortune. Nevertheless, I had to put into words something that was troubling me—a question that had to be asked.

  “How could Cliff have fallen overboard?”

  “Who knows?” Just then, I didn’t think Derek even cared. “I suppose if he tried to tackle one of those ruffians, he could have been thrown over the rail.”

  “The last time I saw him there was someone with him,” I said. “All I could see was his white suit and a figure beside him at the rope handrail. But I don’t think they were fighting.”

  “Look, Laurel, I’m sorry about Cliff. And I know I’ll be sorrier as time goes on—we were friends for a long while. But right now I can’t feel much of anything. I’d better look for Iris. What’s happened has changed everything.”

  I didn’t know what he meant, but I understood that he couldn’t focus on Cliff in his dazed state. I followed him up to the house, aware of a pleasantly balmy evening and the rustling of palm fronds in the wind. A familiar, peaceful scene—where there was no peace.

  Marcus stood out on the front terrace, staring across the water as Derek had done. He started to speak when Derek reached him, but Derek went past without a word.

  I dropped wearily down on a step and asked the same question I’d asked Derek. At least, Marcus listened.

  “I’ve been wondering too,” he said. “The police will want to know who might have been with Cliff. Though we may never find the answer.”

  That sounded ominous. “Whoever was with him seemed to be talking to him quietly. All the fighting was going on somewhere else. Do you know if anyone was wounded? What do you suppose will happen to the crew?”

  “If these pirates get away with the Aurora, it may be a long time before anyone knows. There were only a few men in Derek’s crew.”

  For a little while we were silent. Then I said miserably, “Too late can come so suddenly.”

  Marcus nodded, and I knew he was grieving too. Perhaps Cliff had been more like a father to him than he had to me.

  I tried to rouse myself. “What will happen to Derek now?”

  “I expect he’s broke. He must have put everything he had into bringing up the Santa Beatriz gold. And he’d borrowed heavily besides. Cliff put a lot into the venture.”

  I hadn’t known that. This would be a loss to Iris and Fern as well.

  “Isn’t there anything left down there in the sea?”

  “Mostly the big pieces that haven’t much except historic value. Cannons, musket balls, and any parts of the ship that didn’t rot away. Probably silver coins buried in clumps of coral. Some things were left on board the Dolphin too, but all the gold was brought over to the Aurora. I wondered about this scheme of Derek’s from the first, but he had to do it his own way. He’s always gone for big, dramatic gestures, but he’ll pay for this one.”

  I wanted to touch Marcus, to have his arm around me—I wanted someone to comfort me, but he seemed too far away to reach.

  “What if this was the way Cliff wanted it?” he said at last.

  “No! I don’t believe that! I think he was even beginning to look ahead a little. What he wanted most was to get past the date of Poppy’s death.”

  Marcus sighed. “He didn’t make it, and there’s no use speculating. Let’s wait for the autopsy—it may tell us something.”

  Alida came out the door, and for the first time I thought of Eddie Burch. Was he still aboard the Aurora?

  “Come inside,” Alida said. “There’s coffee, and Elena has fixed some sandwiches. Even if we aren’t hungry, we’d better try to eat. We had very little dinner, remember. Derek thinks the Coast Guard will be here soon.” I had the feeling that Alida was holding herself calm and capable by sheer effort.

  We followed her into the big kitchen, with windows all around that looked out upon dark water. Reed blinds could be pulled against the sun in daytime but were rolled up above black openings now.

  Iris sat at the kitchen table talking earnestly with Derek, whose attention seemed to be elsewhere. Fern huddled on a stool near a counter, the bruised orchid still clinging to her hair. Alida spoke to her, and when Fern looked up I saw with dismay the wild light in her eyes. Fern needed a doctor and something quieting as soon as possible. When she looked around at us, I had the feeling that she was blaming us all for what had happened.

  She burst into words suddenly. “How can you think about eating, when Cliff is dead? None of you cared about him the way I did! I loved him more than any of you did!”

  Alida put a hand on Fern’s arm, but when she spoke her words were sharp. “We all cared about him. So don’t take the grief all to yourself.”

  Fern slapped her hand away angrily, masking her pain. But before she could answer, Derek leaned toward her and spoke sternly.

  “Stop that, Fern. No more!”

  She drew back from him. “Don’t you touch me! You killed him! You all killed him!”

  Derek looked at Iris. “You’d better take care of your sister before she loses the rest of her marbles.”

  Iris didn’t move. “Fern won’t listen to me.”

  There was no one else to try, and Fern’s hysteria was getting out of hand. “We really are all hurting, Fern,” I said. “Maybe we need to help each other now.”

  She stared at me for a moment, and I saw her terrible need. Fern was the little girl whom everyone had loved—Poppy, Cliff, and even Iris. And now she needed help, desperately. Not sure of her reaction, half expecting to have my arms struck away, I put them around her and held her gently. For a moment she resisted, and then her body went limp. Her head with its tangle of tawny hair came down on my shoulder, and her tears were a release. I wanted to cry with her—and couldn’t.

  In a little while she stopped, reached for a box of tissues Alida had placed on the counter, and began to mop up her tears. I looked around the room at all of them—all strangers to me, really. Alida had retreated behind her stoical expression. Iris observed me with clear suspicion, not trusting me at all. Derek had already forgotten everyone in the room. He picked up a sandwich and walked outside to where he could watch again for the Coast Guard boat. Only Marcus tried to smile at me—but he was a stranger too right now. I had lost all sense of reality.

  We drank too much coffee and waited for what seemed an endless length of time. Once Alida tried to get Fern to lie down, but any effort to push her brought on signs of hysteria. She sat near me and seemed to take some comfort in my presence.

  When we heard the sound of the boat approaching, Derek and Marcus hurried down to the dock. The rest of us waited at the house.

  There was a doctor aboard, and of course the police. Word of what had happened to the Aurora had been on the air, but no sign of her had been reported. When last seen she’d been heading full speed toward South America, and there were thousands of places scattered across the Caribbean where she could put in and hide. Of course there’d been no word of Derek’s men either, and now there were families ashore who must be notified of what had happened.

  Since Fern’s need was greatest, the doctor took care of her first and then examined Cliff’s body.

  We were asked to give what details we could of the piracy. Derek did most of the talking, with the rest of us corroborating what he said. We had no answers concerning Cliff’s death. I mentioned seeing someone with him on the Aurora, but everything was confused at that time, and no one knew who it might have been. Or at least no one was ready to admit to being with him. After a couple of hours the boat left
with Cliff’s body on board. At the last minute Derek decided to go back to Key West with them, assuring us that he’d send for us the first thing in the morning.

  Fern and I took the guest room with twin beds. The doctor had given Fern an injection and left medication with Alida for use in the morning. I helped Alida get her to bed and removed the wilted white orchid from her hair. Iris brought us extra pajamas that she kept on the island, but she offered no help with her sister. When Fern was settled, Alida went off to the room she’d been occupying, and we saw no more of her till morning.

  Iris fixed nightcaps for herself, Marcus, and me, and we sat outside on the cool terrace until the mosquitoes moved in. We talked very little, and I think we were all considering what it would be like and how different our lives would be when we returned to Key West. For the first time I found myself thinking seriously of escape—of going North. But there was still Marcus to hold me here—whatever that was worth.

  When I was tired enough physically, even though my mind was wide awake, I went into the room where Fern lay sleeping, her hair a bright tangle on the pillow. Strain and tension had faded from her face, and she looked young and vulnerable.

  I undressed, turned out the lamp, and fell into bed. For a few moments I lay staring into the dark, hearing the sound of waves on the shore of the island, hearing the now familiar rattle of palm fronds. I didn’t want to relive the terrible experiences of that evening. I didn’t want to think about my father. Luckily, my weary body lulled my mind, and I fell asleep quickly.

  I must have slept for two or three hours before the dream that I’d dreaded began—that dream of orchids Fern had warned me about. It was unbearably vivid and real. The time was night, and the only lights that burned were in the orchid house. I stood with all those flowers crowding around me, watching. Now I knew they had eyes and could whisper among themselves. There were so many of them in bloom—hundreds, it seemed. And among them one great empress orchid was larger and more powerful than all the rest. Her color was as golden-tawny as Fern’s hair, and there were red streaks along her petals—as though some animal had clawed them and left lines of blood in every mark.