Nick of Time

by Ted Bell

  “I want peace, too, Father,” Nick said softly. “Don’t you?”

  “Of course I do, Nick,” Angus said. “But peace at any price is the most dangerous course of action we could take. England is weak, with little stomach for a fight. But fight we will, and sooner rather than later. Right now, today, Germany’s Luftwaffe fighters and bombers outnumber our own ten-to-one. Germany’s got millions of men in uniform, all highly trained. And they’re building the mightiest warships and submarines the world has ever seen. Including some kind of ‘super U-boat’ that we’ve only heard rumors about. Highly experimental. I’ve promised Churchill I’d find out everything I could about her.”

  “Why are U-boats so important?” Nick asked, making a mental note to tell his father about the bomber squadrons he’d seen off Hawke Point.

  “Food, Nick,” Angus said. “England is a small island. She can never raise enough food to feed herself. In the first war, German submarines almost succeeded in cutting off our food supply by sinking all the convoys bound for England. That’s why, after the Great War, the Germans were forbidden from building submarines by the Versailles Peace Treaty. Hitler is ignoring that treaty, and my weekly reports to Chartwell prove it. We can’t let the U-boats gain control of the Channel or the North Atlantic again. If they do, this time we will starve. Understand all of this, Nick?”

  “Y-yes, Father, I think I do,” Nick replied. He was thinking of his mother’s brother, his uncle Godfrey, and his wee children who lived in Cadogan Square in the very center of London. He was thinking, too, of skies over the capital black with thundering bombers like those he’d seen off Hawke Point. And the idea of all England and Europe ablaze. Was it a blaze, he wondered, that could spread all the way to little Greybeard Island? “But what can I do, Father?”

  “I’ve only got two eyes, Nick, neither of them as strong as they used to be,” Angus said. “I could use a good pair of eyes alongside mine up at the top of the lighthouse every night. Watching for submarine tracks in the moonlight. And, when you’re out sailing on Petrel, you could keep an eye out for anything that might be important. Periscopes. Any large convoys of German shipping. Any unusual naval activity you might see. Anything at all, son, just jot it down and I’ll include it in my weekly report to Chartwell.”

  “How do our reports get to Mr. Churchill, Father?” Nick asked, enjoying the chill he got imagining the great man himself reading one of Nick’s own reports.

  “Ah. I have a contact called ‘Captain Thor.’ Not his real name, probably, but a code. A former naval man, I believe, and highly experienced at this sort of thing. He’s rather the ringleader of our little group of ‘birdwatchers,’ as we call ourselves. Captain Thor crosses to Portsmouth each week on his sixty-foot motor launch. Delivers the reports to an old fisherman who waits just outside the harbor. Gets them over there in fairly short order, he does, too. Twin V-twelve Allisons below, aircraft engines. She’s called Thor, in fact. Perhaps you’ve seen her about?”

  “Thor! How could I miss her? She’s a real beauty,” Nick said. “And I’ve seen this Captain Thor, too, I guess, at her helm.” Nick looked at his father in dead earnest. “I’ll do anything I can to help the birdwatchers, Father. You can count on me.”

  “I knew I could count on you, Nick. One final thing. This effort of Churchill’s is a matter of the utmost confidentiality. Even King George doesn’t know about it! I must swear you to absolute secrecy. What I’m doing is completely against the government’s wishes. I’d lose my job if the Ministry ever found out I was helping Churchill. And another thing. When war does break out, the fate of anyone who falls into enemy hands while spying is death. And you’re a spy now, son, just like me. Remember that. Can you keep such a big secret?”

  “Yes, Father. I swear it,” Nick said, but he wasn’t really thinking about Father losing his job or anybody dying before a Nazi firing squad. He was trying to make himself believe that a mere twelve-year-old boy was in on a secret so great that even the Prime Minister and the King of England didn’t know about it!

  That night, as he drifted off to sleep, an amazing notion occurred to Nicholas McIver. Maybe he was only twelve years old, a boy who’d probably never amount to any kind of real hero, but how many other boys did he know who could claim to be living, breathing spies, for goodness’ sake?

  None, that’s how many!

  CHAPTER IV

  The Sea Chest

  · 5 June 1939 ·

  AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT

  We’ve been sitting on this stupid old rock all day and we haven’t seen a single periwinkle!” Kate said. “Periscope,” Nick corrected, though he would have gladly settled for a periwinkle at this point.

  “Periscope, periwinkle, how can I keep an eye out for Nazis when I don’t even get to look through the binoculars?” his sister asked, heaving one of her patented end-of-the-world sighs.

  “In a minute, all right?” Nick replied. “Just let me complete this sweep. This isn’t supposed to be fun, you know. Spying is very serious business.”

  It was true. It wasn’t fun. Nick wouldn’t admit it to Kate, but this entire spy business was not nearly so glamorous or exciting as he’d first imagined it to be. Besides, maybe his mother was right, after all. Maybe the Nazis were going to just leave their country and their little island alone. He hoped that was so, even if it meant he was out of the spy business.

  He and Kate had made their way out along the broad-faced rocks of Lighthouse Point right after breakfast. The jetties curved out and around, forming a little harbor where the Stormy Petrel was moored. They gave him a perfect vantage point for scanning the seas around the northern tip of the island. They’d brought a picnic lunch out to the jetties and, for a while, with the gulls whirling about and the blue sea splashing upon the rocks, it had been fun. Now, as the afternoon shadow of the great lighthouse on the cliff loomed ever larger across the rocky promontory, and the hours dragged on without even a single periscope or steamship in sight, both children had wearied of spying.

  “Here, then,” Nick said, handing the binoculars to Kate. “You take another look, while I find Jip. Then we’ll go home. Tomorrow’s another day. Nazis must take Sundays off like everybody else, I guess.”

  Nick made his way gingerly back along the curving breakwater for quite some way before he heard Jip barking in the distance. When last seen, the dog had been chasing seagulls and had run off some way along the rocky shore. Nick climbed to a high vantage point and called to the dog, but Jip had run well out of hearing range. He cupped his hands and called back to his sister.

  “Come on, Katie! Quickly! We’ve got to catch Jipper! He’s run off!”

  As it turned out, they didn’t catch up with Jip quickly at all. Not for almost an hour, anyway. Every time Nick and Kate scampered to the top of some rock, they’d see the black dog rounding another cove, out of sight and sound. It was so unlike Jip, Nick thought. He’d never seen the fellow behave in this fashion. Why had gulls suddenly acquired such an attraction? It had to be something else, Nick decided. But what?

  Nick finally caught up with Jip circling some prey in a small cove just below. And the sight was startling indeed. His dog was barking, not at a seagull, it seemed, but at a big strangely colored bird perched upon a bit of refuse washed from the sea. Nick climbed down to get a closer look, scarcely able to believe his eyes.

  It was, in fact, a huge red bird, perched atop a carcass of old wood, perhaps even a tropical parrot although that wasn’t possible! Here was a bird such as had never been seen on this island. One that must have been blown off course thousands of miles to be here! Nick knew such creatures existed in the steaming jungles of Africa and South America, but he’d never dreamed he’d encounter such a specimen right here on Greybeard Island!

  He crept down slowly, afraid of scaring the rare bird away.

  Edging closer, he saw the bird was not the least bit afraid. Indeed, it seemed to be guarding its perch, an old sea chest, which was lying half buried in the sand at t
he water’s edge. Just sea garbage that had come ashore with the last big storm, or simply with the tide. He certainly hadn’t seen the chest the week before, and he was always on the lookout for treasures from the sea.

  Sea debris was not at all unusual, but always interesting. The mantel above the fireplace in the lighthouse held proof enough of that.

  But, look here. An old sea chest that appeared to have washed ashore almost intact? With an exotic parrotlike bird perched atop it? Well, that was more than just interesting. And, besides, Nick wondered, cautiously bending down to peer more closely, what about that big, barnacle-encrusted padlock? You didn’t put a lock like that on some old empty chest! No, you didn’t! Of course his mind went instantly to pirate’s gold, emeralds and rubies. But it could always be nothing more than the empty piece of sea junk it seemed to be.

  Breathing hard, Kate clambered down from the rocks. “What a pretty bird, Nicky!”

  Kate, who happened to have a few crumbs of lunchtime muffin in the pocket of her skirt, and a wonderful way with birds, cheerfully held out this bit to the fantastic creature. The bird cast a quick eye at the offer and immediately removed himself to Kate’s shoulder. Kate’s eyes went wide with fright, for the bird was nearly as big as she was and its claws were hurting her shoulder.

  “Nicky, the bird is hurting my—”

  SQUAWK! SQUAWK! the big bird cried.

  Suddenly, its sharp beak darted toward her outstretched hand. Greedily, it plucked the treat from her fingers, and darted away, resuming its position atop the little chest. Nick heard a small cry from his sister and ran to her to see what was the matter.

  “Oh, Nicky, look!” Kate sobbed, holding up her finger. Nick saw a bright red stream of blood running down Kate’s hand. “He bit me, Nicky, the naughty bird! He bit my finger!” Nick took his sister’s hand and examined the wound. It was nothing serious, and Kate was barely even crying; still the anger rose in him like a sudden bloom of heat lightning.

  “Get away!” Nick cried, waving his arms in anger at the bird. “You want to bite someone, try biting me, parrot! Go! Go! Get away!” Nick picked up a stone to hurl at the now menacing creature and Jip, too, lunged at the bird, barking loudly and baring his considerable fangs. The bird eyed Nick calmly for a moment and then the most astounding thing happened.

  The bird laughed at him.

  It threw back its huge red head and made a terrible cackling noise that sounded to Nick almost like human laughter. Then it was gone, flapping its giant wings and soaring away with extraordinary speed. Nick stood blinking in the sun, watching as the bird disappeared out beyond Gravestone Rock, already unsure of what he’d just seen and heard.

  But he had the strangest feeling that, for the first time in his young life, he might have encountered something truly evil.

  Kate bravely wrapped her injured finger in her handkerchief. She seemed to have already forgotten about the silly parrot and stooped to pull the small chest free of the sand. She couldn’t move it, which was surprising. It didn’t look at all heavy. It was salt-white from the ocean and as sea-polished as any old piece of driftwood. She dropped to her knees in the sand to examine the chest more carefully.

  “Nicky, look!” Kate said excitedly. “There’s a name carved into the top!”

  Nick bent down and brushed some wet sand from the lid of the chest. The letters, somewhat worn, were still legible.

  CAPT. NICHOLAS MCIVER

  H.M.S. MERLIN

  EDINBURGH

  “OH!” Kate exclaimed. “Oh, Nicky! Do you see what I see?”

  “You bet I do,” said Nick, rubbing his fingers slowly across the carved letters. “This old sea captain and I have something in common, don’t we?”

  “Yes, you do, Nick, you both have the very same name!”

  And they both stared at the old captain’s chest with growing wonder. First the strange bird, and now this.

  “Well, Kate, McIver’s a fairly common name,” said Nick, brushing a shock of unruly sandy-colored hair away from his eyes. “And, Nicholas is, too. But finding a chest with your own name on it is not your typical day in June, is it?” Nick bent to inspect the chest more closely. “Katie, look here!” he said, using his hand to wipe some of the sea salt from the lid. “The thing looks to be in awfully good condition, doesn’t it? Why, the wood looks almost brand-new! See how shiny it is?”

  He ran his fingers over the name, his own, engraved upon the lid, and felt a sharp tingle of excitement. It was, he realized, the same little chill he got when he ran his fingers over the ‘NM’ on the old spyglass above his bed.

  “Help me, Katie,” Nick said. “I’ve got a strange feeling about this chest! Let’s get it off the beach quickly. The tide is on its way back in. Another hour and we’d never even have seen this prize, full of pirate’s gold most likely! Or, big emeralds from Brazil or someplace! Good boy, Jip! Looks like you’ve found us a real treasure this time!” Jip barked his approval and gave the lock a good sniffing about.

  Nick and Kate were able to lift the chest, but just barely, because it was surprisingly heavy for its size. It seemed to weigh at least twice what its size would indicate, Nick thought, worrying about his sister holding up her end, especially with her hurt finger.

  “Into that cave,” said Nick, recognizing the same little cavern where he and Jip had waited out the storm a few days earlier. “There’s a ledge in there where we can hide the chest. At least until we decide what to do with it. That way, it’ll be safely out of sight.”

  Using all their strength, they managed to carry the chest into the cave and lift it onto an inner ledge. Nick formed a step with his hands and Kate scrambled onto the ledge, followed immediately by Jip. Nick, his arms strong from rowing his little sloop home on countless windless days, was able to hoist himself up easily.

  Golden light penetrated deep into the cave, and Nick examined the chest closely for the first time. It was indeed a Royal Navy officer’s chest, the kind used for personal effects. And it was in remarkable condition. Now, in the intense rays of sunlight, the finish of the wood seemed to bear scant trace of who knew how many years drifting in salty seas! And the brass lock, although encrusted with barnacles, was gleaming in many places. A trick of the light?

  Nick, who knew about such things, believed this particular chest, despite its newish appearance, had to be quite ancient. This type of chest was from the time of Nelson. It must be nearly a hundred and fifty years old! But how could the wood and brass remain in such condition?

  Nick thought about the possibilities. Obviously the chest could have been stored on dry land for all these years and only recently thrown into the sea. But why? And even then the chest should have had some age to it, shouldn’t it? Certainly more than it did have.

  The sun had dropped to within a palm’s width when held on the horizon, and was just opposite the cave’s mouth. Brilliant rays now flooded Nick and Kate’s new hideout with red-gold light. Nick was using his marlinespike to gently pry the few remaining barnacles from the padlock. It was slow going and Kate was torn between boredom and excitement over opening the mysterious sea chest. It took so long, in fact, that she entered into an imaginary conversation with Jip, planning an elaborate tea party for all her dolls while Nick feverishly worked the lock.

  After a time, she dozed off.

  Two things happened almost at once, neither of them good. Kate, whose feet were dangling over the edge of the ledge, suddenly awoke to the sensation of cold seawater lapping at her ankles. Realizing immediately what was happening, a scream was forming in her throat when something even more frightening occurred.

  The interior of the cave was plunged into darkness. And the scream that burst from Katie’s throat filled the darkness with her terror.

  CHAPTER V

  The Dark Cave

  · 5 June 1939 ·

  ALONG THE NORTH COAST

  Kate, don’t worry,” Nick said. “Some old ‘greybeard’ has probably rolled in and blocked the sun from the mouth
of the cave.” He was summoning up a great deal more calmness than he actually felt. Kate knew as well as he did that their little island was named for the sudden, unpredictable fogs that could turn midday to midnight in minutes. “At any rate, I think that’s why not much sun can get this far back into the cave.”

  “Not much sun? Not any sun!” Katie said, and even her voice was shaking. “I can’t even see my fingers when I hold my hand up, Nicky! And the cave is filling up with water!”

  “It’s not filling up with water, it’s just the tide coming in. Every cave along here gets about a foot of water inside when the tide comes in. That’s why I wanted to get the chest on the ledge, remember? Why, Gunner and I spent a whole night in a cave just like this last summer. Slept out a rainstorm up on one of these ledges, we did, dry as bones, like a couple of babies, even at high tide.” He laughed, but it was a hollow laugh, and he was cursing himself for putting his little sister in a frightening situation.

  “I’m still scared, Nicky.”

  Nick reached out in the darkness of the cramped ledge and placed his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Katie, we’ll get out of here, I promise. Even if we can’t see too well because of the fog outside, we can smell the sea air, right? Take a deep breath and follow your nose, that’s the ticket.”

  “I don’t smell anything in this stinky old cave but Jip’s breath,” Kate said. “And I don’t much like that smell, either.”

  “Right, then, let’s get out of here, Kate.”

  A sharp scratching noise and a sudden flare of burning magnesium pierced the black gloom. “Lucky we’ve got these matches to help us see where we’re going, aren’t we? Are you ready? On ‘three,’ I want you to jump down from the ledge. Jump straight out and bend your knees. Mind your head!”