Mr. Wicker's Window

by Carley Dawson

  CHAPTER 18

  It was perhaps as well that Chris had more than enough to think of.Otherwise the wrench at leaving home might have been even moredistressing than it was. His last day passed like a flash, though fromhis attitude no one, certainly not Becky, would have guessed that thenext morning he would not be there to eat his breakfast in the sunnykitchen window. Amos, quick to sense all Chris's moods, knew somethingwas afoot, and when Chris and Mr. Wicker finally told him of thesailing plan, Amos's eyes grew rounder than ever and sparkled morebrightly, but he said never a word.

  At ten o'clock that night, when Becky had gone heavily to her room,wondering perhaps why Chris had given her so hard a hug, Ned Cilleyknocked at the back door. He had brought a light cart on which therestood a large wicker hamper. Ned and Chris lifted it into the kitchenwhile Mr. Wicker drew the curtains and then held a candle high. Thecandlelight flickered and flapped like a trapped bird at the cornersof the room, and sharp bird-wing shadows cut across Mr. Wicker's talldark figure. Yet to Chris, who was to hold the scene ever after inhis memory, the kitchen by the light of that one candle, and thefigure of his master standing in its center, moved Chris as he hadnever been touched before. Amos stood near the basket, looking firstinto its square depth filled with shadow, and then up enquiringly atMr. Wicker, but he did not speak.

  "Be of good heart, Amos," Mr. Wicker said to him kindly, "and lookafter young Christopher as best you can."

  Then, at a gesture from Mr. Wicker, Amos, agog, stepped into thehamper where he stood uncertainly, his expression half terrified andhalf delighted.

  "Yessir, I will!" he piped up, shrill with excitement. "I'll keep myeye on him!" he promised, and then curled up in the hamper. Ned Cilleyshut down the top and he and Chris lifted it to the cart. Mr. Wickerspoke low into Ned's ear.

  "All is well understood?" he queried. "This is no time formisunderstandings!"

  "Aye aye, sir! All is clear!" the good Ned replied.

  "Then Godspeed to you all and bring you safely home," said Mr. Wicker."Be on the lookout for this lad, Ned, when you get past the bar."

  "We shall," Ned whispered back, "and good luck to the two of ye!"

  Clucking to his horse, on wheels covered with rags, and with clothsabout the horse's hoofs to deaden their sound, Ned Cilley and hishamper went quietly away in the direction of the wharfs. In a moment,cart, horse, and driver were swallowed up in the denseness of thenight.

  A black night it was indeed. Although there was a moon, thick cloudsscudded over it and an autumn wind bent the trees, tearing the leavesfrom them. A mist rose from the river, but it was blown away from allbut the most sheltered places.

  Mr. Wicker and Chris stood in the silent kitchen. Looking about him,Chris remembered with a pang the first morning he had seen it, withBecky in her gaudy hat standing near the fire.

  "Come, Christopher," Mr. Wicker bade him, taking up his caped blackcloak and another one for Chris. "First, wind the rope about yourwaist, and once on board, bind it under your shirt. Let no one, noteven Amos, know of it."

  Chris did as he was told. Mr. Wicker then gave him a leather pouchhung on a cord.

  "Here are some oddments of magic that may prove their usefulness," heremarked. "Wear them about your neck." So saying he slipped theleather cord over Chris's head.

  "What happens to the rope and pouch when I change my shape, sir?"Chris asked.

  "They will remain with you, have no fear of that," the magicianreplied. "What would be the use of magic if it proved unable to adjustitself?" A smile played over Mr. Wicker's face. "So, all is ready," hesaid glancing around. "Now we must be off and lose no time, for wehave much ahead of us," said Mr. Wicker drily, blowing out the candle.

  Before he knew it, Chris stood--until what far-off time?--outside Mr.Wicker's house. His master locked the door. The wind, swooping downlike some great bird, tugged at their cloaks and chilled their faces.

  Chris led the way to the creek and the marsh. This time both he andMr. Wicker wore high boots which kept the icy water and mud from theirfeet.

  "What I wouldn't give for a flashlight!" Chris muttered as they cameto the marsh.

  "Yes, the twentieth century has many conveniences," Mr. Wickerreplied, and Chris could imagine, behind him, the man's sardonic smileand amused eyes.

  They came out suddenly from the blackness of the woods to thewind-whipped river, and though the moon was still obscured, the riverheld a pallid sheen of its own that gave a little light. There was nota sound to be heard but the hurried lap of water against the shore,the suck and pull of Chris's and Mr. Wicker's boots in the mud, andsharp, hair-raising rustles, from time to time, in the reeds. Chris'sheart thudded in his throat at these furtive noises, for they couldonly be made by rats or watersnakes, and Chris liked neither of these,especially by night.

  Pushing along the marsh edge and feeling their way, the two figures atlast came in sight of their goal. The high dark hull of the _Venture_rose above the water, an amber lantern hanging at her stern. The windswung the ship, and the tide, still flowing up the Potomac, showedthat the bow, held by the anchor, was pointed somewhat downstream.

  "The anchor may have dragged," Chris whispered to Mr. Wicker. "Now forour boat!"

  The rope seemed to uncoil from about his waist almost of itself, andwith the gestures he had been taught, Chris formed a very adequatecraft; a trifle lopsided, it must be admitted, as he had had smallpractice, but seaworthy nevertheless.

  "I shall see that the men sleep soundly," Mr. Wicker murmured. "You dothe rest."

  "I shall, sir!" Chris agreed, and then the moon showed an edge for amoment in the clouds. "Look sir--the _Mirabelle_!"

  Toward sleeping Georgetown, for it was nearly midnight now, awhiteness showed itself, close against the distant wharfs. The_Mirabelle_ was edging out, and Chris knew that Ned, Bowie, AbnerCloud, and others were pulling her by the ship's boats into the mainflow of the river. Once turned, she would float noiselessly down thePotomac past the _Venture_, and once he was aboard, would hoist hersails and set her course to sea.

  "Then quick!" bade Mr. Wicker. "We took too long! It seems we are atrifle late!"

  They stepped into the boat, each taking an oar, and with only a fewstrong pulls came alongside the silent _Venture_. They moored theirboat to the anchor rope. Mr. Wicker touched Chris by way of wishinghim luck, and disappeared. For half a second more Chris waited. Nosound came from the ship but a light showed in the Captain's cabin.

  In a twinkling, a monkey with a pouch about its neck ran up the anchorrope and pausing on the gunwale, sniffed at the pungent flower smellthat it now knew meant sleep for all the sailors. Then it boundedtoward the light.

  A window of the cabin on the lee side had been left open. Clinging toa piece of rigging before it sprang to the sill, the monkey's eyescaught what seemed to be a shadow darker than that of the mist or ofthe night, moving away from the sailor left at night watch. The mannow lay slumped in sleep, and the same heady scent of spices andflowers that had overcome Chris when he had first entered Mr. Wicker'sshop blew away on the gusty fall wind.

  The ship tugged and strained at her anchor, wind and turning tidemaking taut the line that held her close to shore. The _Venture_, herrigging and masts scarcely visible, so sombre was the night, layominously silent, excepting for a murmur of voices from the cabin.Abruptly aware of the passing of time and the approaching white cloudon the water that was the _Mirabelle_, the monkey sprang to the sideof the open window and peered inside.

  A smoking lamp hung low over a center table, dropping a dusky roundglow on the larger circle beneath it. Claggett Chew was blearilystudying a paper spread out before him, leaning his ugly bare skull onone hand. His eyes were blood-shot, and an empty wine bottle and glassholding only wine dregs showed he had been drinking and was now halfasleep.

  Osterbridge Hawsey, in a heavy silk robe and embroidered slippers,lounged sideways in a chair with his legs hanging over the arm. Hishand trailed an empty glass on the floor, and a silly drunken smilep
layed over his face.

  "Claggett," he was saying, "is the place marked?" He hiccupeddelicately. "Hup! Oh dear! the hiccups!" he complained with a frown."Let me have more wine!"

  Claggett Chew did not reply nor rise to fetch another bottle.Osterbridge Hawsey gave a hiccup and spoke again, "Markit--hic!--Claggett. You may forget. All those--hup!--walls, to getover, or--hic! under." He sighed. "Oh dear! Hic! _Think_ of thosejewels, Claggett! Hup! Devil take these hiccups!" he exclaimed in aflurry of annoyance, but made no motion to change his comfortableposition.

  "Claggett!" Osterbridge Hawsey shrilled. "Are you asleep, or angry,or--? Hic!--Put a cross where the Tree is, I say! I wantthose--hup!--jewels, Claggett, and so do you! Hic!"

  Befuddled, his perceptions hopelessly blurred by excessive wine,Claggett Chew made a mark on the map. "There!" he growled, his upperlip drawn back over his teeth, "will that shut you up?"

  A moving shadow duskier than the shadows themselves came through thedoor and hovered over Osterbridge Hawsey. Claggett Chew suddenlystarted up.

  "I smell him!" he muttered thickly. "He's here! Hullo! Nightwatchman!" he shouted drunkenly.

  As he got up, stumbling and thrashing about in the uncertainty of hismovements, his chair crashed to the floor and the monkey made a leap,cuffing the lantern from its hook. The light was dashed out, and inthe dark as he jumped, the monkey seized the creased, well-thumbedpaper as he leaped back toward the pale square that was the window.Behind it Claggett Chew's oaths and exclamations became fainter asthe spicy scent grew stronger, and at last his mutterings trailed offinto snorts and, finally, snores. The monkey, clutching the paper toitself, sat on the window ledge stuffing it into the pouch about itsneck, and a monkey smile flitted across its face as it heard a finaldreaming sound from Osterbridge Hawsey.

  "Hm-mm. Hic! Jewels! Hup!" came from Osterbridge Hawsey.

  Down the anchor rope scrambled the monkey with the agility and speedfor which monkeys are famous. Mr. Wicker was already in the boat.

  "How shall it be, sir?" came the low voice of Chris. "Shall I become abeaver and go down and gnaw the rope off at the anchor?"

  "No," said Mr. Wicker. "It can be more easily done than that andnothing to trace it. Get in the boat. Here comes the _Mirabelle_."

  Taking his own shape once more, Chris saw the white ghost-like sidesof the _Mirabelle_ soundlessly passing down stream. Not a creak nor asplash of water came from her as she passed, but from the stern a tinylight, struck by a flint perhaps, blinked once, and twice, and then athird time.

  "Now!" came Mr. Wicker's low voice. "Let me have my hand upon thatrope!"

  He only seemed to hold the anchor rope a moment and give it an easypull. The tugging strain was suddenly gone and the _Venture_ veeredaway like a frightened waterfowl.

  "Will she go where she should, sir?" Chris wanted to know, leaningforward.

  "That she will, Christopher!" came the familiar voice in the dark."And we must get out of her way, for here she comes down at us. Thewind and the tide and--hm-m--other forces will drive her solidly uponthe bar. If I mistake not, it will be several days before they get heroff," and on the night air Chris heard a faint short chuckle.

  "Pull, boy!" his master told him sharply. "Here she comes!"

  Chris grasped his oar and spun the boat only in time, for thedown-flowing tide and rising wind combined to drive the _Venture_forward at increasing speed. The tide being still high, the ship wascarried well upon the sandbar before it grounded, lolling over to oneside much like the sleeping sailors.

  "Quick, lad! Now we must catch the _Mirabelle_, and you and I mustpart."

  "Oh, sir!" Chris cried, holding his oar above the water and turninghis head toward the man beside him. Mr. Wicker clapped Chris on theshoulder and a glint of moonlight showed him to be smiling.

  "I shall miss you too, my lad," he said. "Now, let us send this boatover the river as fast as she can go. And bear in mind--keep your ownshape at all times unless you can change it out of sight of pryingeyes." They pulled at the oars. "Oh yes, I nearly forgot. Among theeffects placed in your sea chest you will find a conch shell. Hold itto your ear, Christopher, as children do to hear the sea. You will beable to hear my voice, if ever you should need to."

  "Oh--like a walkie-talkie?" Chris asked, pulling at his oar.

  "Somewhat." And Chris knew his master smiled at him.

  "What about getting you to shore, sir?" Chris enquired, pulling inrhythm so that the rope boat flew down the black and silver river.

  "Have you forgotten who I am, my boy?" he was asked in return.

  "No sir," said Chris, feeling a little small.

  "Then undo the dinghy and clamber up the side, for here we are," saidMr. Wicker, and the towering hull of the _Mirabelle_ rose above them.

  Chris grasped a rope ladder that hung down beside them to the water'sedge and turned for a last word.

  "I'll do my best, sir, but I hope you'll stay with me!" he cried.

  "All that I can, Christopher," came the distant voice. "Godspeed!"

  And looking about, Chris made out, coasting on the air, a sea gull,balancing upon its black-tipped wings. Swallowing a lump in his throatthat proved bothersome, Chris jerked at one oar and deftly coiled themagic rope over his arm, holding to the ship's ladder with the other.

  A signal flashed, a lantern swung in an arc, and dim figures waitingin their places hauled on the lines. As Chris stepped to the deck overthe side, the great white sails rose, spread, and bellied out from thethree masts. Chris looked in wonder as the _Mirabelle_, proud as awoman, lifted up her head.

  Soon on the silent river only a dwindling sight of lonely sails was tobe seen, heading toward Chesapeake Bay and then to sea. But anyonewith eyesight good enough might have seen a solitary sea gull,following.