Mr. Wicker's Window

by Carley Dawson

  CHAPTER 16

  "Come along, Amos! We must get a closer look at that ship!" Chriscried, putting his glass away. Scrambling down, the two boys ran alongthe stream until it was shallow enough to cross. The water was icy,telling, as well as the turning leaves and cooler air, that fall hadcome and winter was on the way.

  Hurrying forward, Chris and Amos reached the mouth of the stream whereit joined the river. There on the left bank of Rock Creek, high rushesgrew in rank profusion on the marshy land. They rose higher than theheads of the two boys and were too closely packed to allow for easypassage.

  "We'll have to skirt the very edge," Chris said glancing about."Barefoot would be the best. This soft ground would soon go over ourshoes and maybe suck them down."

  "Keep right against the rushes," Chris warned Amos, "and if a boatshows up coming from the wharves, we can't take any chances. We'llhave to dive into the rushes and hide, just in case it's ClaggettChew."

  "That's right," Amos nodded his head vigorously. "I don't want to meet_him_ again, and you do less'n me!" he chuckled.

  The two went on, making slow progress, for the river was deep at thatpoint, with little foothold between the end of the jungle of reeds anddeep water.

  "Keep an eye out, Amos!" Chris called back over his shoulder as hewent ahead. It was no time before Amos's voice came huskily up to hisfriend.

  "Chris! Chris--hold on! There's a boat with four men in it just leftthe last wharf, and they're headin' this way! Get in those rushesquick--my clothes is mighty bright!"

  Rushing and panting, they shoved their way into the dusty rushes,groping back until they could barely see the river through the stalks.And it was just in time, for barely were they hidden when they heard,carried over the water, the dip and splash of two pairs of oars andthe creak of oarlocks. Then, in another moment, came the high-pitchedvoice of Osterbridge Hawsey. Chris gave a shiver as it reached him.

  "Claggett," came the voice of the fop, who with Claggett Chew wassitting in the stern of the boat, "Claggett--I find myself quite,quite fatigued. A little wine, I fancy, might revive me when we reachthe ship. Heated, I think, and spiced, to ward off the night chill.And Claggett," went on the voice, almost upon them now it was soclear, "what do you think of this muslin for my new shirts? Is it notdelicate? Irish, _cela va sans dire_, as the dear French say. I feelsure it will be satisfactory."

  From Claggett Chew the two boys heard not a word, and peering out,they saw the boat shoot by. Osterbridge Hawsey, wrapped in a greatcloak, was admiring a bolt of muslin that he held, but Claggett Chew,his face shadowed by a hat, was holding his whip upon his knees andglowering at the water.

  The boat passed, and some time after, the two boys heard from acrossthe water the echo of wood against wood as the dinghy reached the_Venture's_ hull. After a while, as the boys were about to move along,a heavy dropping sound, and the shuddering of the marshy ground, madethe two in hiding look at one another in concern.

  "What in the world?" Chris murmured.

  The sound, accompanied by steps, oaths, and a rhythmical drop andshudder, continued farther along the shore. Stealthily, trying not toshake the rushes and so show where they might be, Chris and Amospushed through the marsh.

  The sun was setting as they came near the steps and voices. Pushingthrough the reeds towards the river, Chris found that they were nearlyopposite where the _Venture_ floated, below Mr. Mason's island, and ata desolate part of the river.

  Chris gestured Amos forward, and they went on step by step until, in apause of the thundering dropping sound, they knew themselves to benear its origin and parted the reeds enough to see.

  There, within a few yards of them and at the edge of a hard-beatentrack from the main shore, lay a mass of cannon balls and shot forguns of various sizes, such as are used on men-of-war. The crew of the_Venture_, able to carry but one at a time, kept a line going fromshore to pile, and this, as they dropped the cannon balls from theirshoulders, was the sound and shaking of the ground the boys had heardand felt. Seeing the red caps and kerchiefed heads of men above therushes, the boys let the reeds fall back.

  "I'm going to have a look at the ship through the glass," Chriswhispered, and moved forward closer to the shore.

  Parting the stalks, he trained the glass on Claggett Chew's ship. Itwas a fine, rich vessel, that was evident, and swarming with activity.At this hour of dusk, other boats along the river had stopped theircommerce for the day and there were none to observe what Claggett Chewmight be about. Chris and Amos were the only watchers.

  The cannon balls and ammunition were taken out in boats and hoisted upin nets. Chris observed everything closely, and saw still othercrewmen disappearing with their burdens down the hold. Then somethingcaught his eye and he examined the name along the side through thespyglass.

  Curious, thought Chris, that all the letters of the ship's name seemedexact except the second and third. Among the other letters of carvedand gilded wood, the _E_ and _N_ were not quite as straight in line asthe rest.

  Oh well, Chris thought, it's doubtless a custom of the time for all Iknow.

  Putting the glass in his pocket, he rejoined Amos, but as he did sothe last two sailors put down their cannon balls and wiped the sweatoff their foreheads with their arms. In the ensuing silence the rustleof the rushes as Chris and Amos moved away was plainly to be heard.

  "What's that?" one man cried out. "Is a spy there? Here--take thisclub and beat about--we'll catch 'em!"

  The two men charged into the marsh so fast that Chris barely had timeto whisper to Amos: "Hurry Amos--run! I'll be all right. I'll drawthem off! I'll meet you where we ford the stream!"

  Amos safely out of sight, the men came only on a stray dog foragingfor rats, wagging its tail and letting out a yip or two as it followeda scent along the ground.

  "Give it a kick--there--it's only a stray dog," one said.

  "Oh--devil take it--what do I care?" answered the other, turning back.

  The dog lay panting at the river's edge. Looking past the ship as itrested, it saw what it thought was snow upon the water and the banks.But it was just thousands of ducks migrating south, and when they roseto move farther away, the sky was overcast and thunderous with theirwings.

  Long after dark, cold, dirty, and quite wet, the two boys reached thehouse on Water Street.

  "Where did you go?" Becky inquired, frowning with solicitude at thebedraggled pair.

  "Oh, no place much," Chris answered, yawning.