Mr. Wicker's Window

by Carley Dawson

  CHAPTER 23

  When Chris awoke he saw that Amos had already stolen out of the cabin,for his hammock was rolled up and put away. By the strength of the sunand the heat that seeped even through the boards of the ship, Chrisjudged that the morning was well advanced.

  Dressing was rapid, for Chris, like the rest of the sailors in thetropic heat, wore only his breeches. His bare chest and shoulders weretanned and healthy and the soles of his bare feet as tough as shoeleather.

  Running up to the bridge he was startled at first, at coming on deck,at the sudden green shade everywhere. Then looking up he saw that totheir very peaks the masts and rigging of the _Mirabelle_ had beenhidden with palm fronds. That side of the ship that could be seen fromthe sea through the narrow channel entrance had been completelycovered with green. The work was not yet finished, but most of thecrew were sleeping during the hot hours, while a handful hadvolunteered to complete the job.

  The cove by daylight was even lovelier than it had seemed by starlightthe night before. The deep water, with a white base of coral sand,flashed in emerald, turquoise, or sapphire blue. Its clarity andsparkling colors put the Jewel Tree into Chris's head and he had amoment's throb of fright when he realized that it was this very nightthat he must board the _Venture_ to impede her progress toward theChinese prize.

  He put these thoughts from his mind until the time came, and decidedto tackle what was most pressing. The most urgent matter that firstclaimed his attention was breakfast, and when he reached the bridge hewas delighted to see fruits from the island piled in shady corners.These and bread and cheese made up his meal, which he ate whilewatching the final leaves and fronds put in place on the sides of the_Mirabelle_.

  Captain Blizzard came up to him, his hands clasped behind his back,and nodded toward the men pulling themselves slowly over the ship'sside and falling exhausted into the shade to sleep for a few hours.

  "They will be fresh enough in a while," he said, "and then we shallone and all row ashore to see what we shall see."

  He paused, and Chris, looking up, saw that the Captain's gaze wasfixed on Zachary Heigh. Zachary was obviously not only far fromsleeping, but was restless, jumping up to look out to sea and thensitting down again. It would be only a few minutes more before up hewould jump once more to pace the deck or lean at the ship's rail.

  "It would seem," the Captain said casually, "that Zachary hassomething on his mind."

  Mr. Finney joined Chris and the Captain at that moment, and lookingdown at Zachary nodded his long sad face in lugubrious agreement.Chris opened his mouth to say something to the Captain of what he hadseen Zachary doing. Before the words could leave his mouth, he wasinterrupted by the appearance of red-faced Ned Cilley. Cheerful as asand flea at the prospect of going ashore, Ned had come from his restwith a small company of the sailors to ask permission of the Captainif they might leave the ship.

  "Well, why not?" the Captain demanded. "And why not take along therest too? We were all to go ashore presently, in any case. Those whostill want to sleep can do so even more comfortably on the shady sandunder the palms."

  So in an instant the decks of the _Mirabelle_ were crowded withlaughing jostling men, duties over for that day, tumbling down theladders to the dinghies in which they rowed ashore.

  Chris and Amos were shoved along with their friends, Chris hiking uphis breeches to cover the coil of the magic rope around his waist; theleathern bag hanging in plain sight about his neck. The sailors hadoften teased him about it, saying that he kept his riches there, butthey made no attempt to snatch it from him. There had been no time towarn the Captain, but as the last boatload of sailors leaped intoshallow water and scattered under the shade of the trees, Chrissearched and searched again for three faces among the crowd that hedid not find. Zachary Heigh, the Captain, and Mr. Finney were not tobe found.

  Aghast, as he understood now what Zachary's plan was--to blow up the_Mirabelle_ just as the _Venture_ and its crew came near enough toshoot down the unarmed men--Chris rushed back to the water's edge andstood there hesitating in the powerful sun. How could he changehimself to a fish or other shape, unobserved? The sailors from the_Mirabelle_ were everywhere--in the thickets for the shade, as well asalong the edge of the cove where he now stood, indecisive. To use therope was just as impossible, for the beach was broad and Chris wasacutely aware that he stood out like a single tree in a field, thereon the white sand in the broiling sun.

  "Better come outen that sun, Chris!" someone called to him. "There'stoo much of heat in it to be good for unkivered heads!"

  Chris knew the voice of the sailor was right, and was on the point ofjumping into one of the dinghies, where they lay pulled up on thebeach.

  Far out on the cove, the decks of the _Mirabelle_ were deserted andunlike themselves, so empty of life. Sweat started out on Chris'sforehead, as he imagined Zachary in the hold lighting the fuse, and hewondered where the good Captain and Mr. Finney might be. He wonderedtoo if he could row over in time, or if he would be blown up with theship.

  The boy had his hands on the scorching wood of a dinghy, his musclestensed to thrust it into the waters of the cove, when out over thestill harbor, jangling in the heat, came a prolonged and piercingscream. Hot as he was, Chris felt himself go cold at the sound. Heknew instantly, although he had never heard it before, that this wasthe death cry of a man. The scream came a second time, terrified anddespairing, and out over the water following it came a low, scatteredrumble.

  Silence fell for several frozen seconds, and then all at once Chrisbecame aware as he stood rigid with horror by the boat that thesailors of the _Mirabelle_ had rushed out from the coolness of theshore to stand stiff and appalled beside him. A babble of voices brokeout, and one by one the boats were hastily launched, heading back tothe ship, leaving Chris shaking and unnerved on the sand. Over thewater as brawny backs bent to the oars the words came floating back:

  "Someone's dead for sartin sure--"

  "Who was left on board, you say?"

  "Leave the lads--no sight for young-uns."

  "_Pull_, you lazy lubbers! The Capt'n and Mr. Finney bean't amongus!"

  It was a little later that Chris remembered Amos having taken his armand led him into the shade, and of how sick he was--the heat and thescream, the fear, and a sense of having failed in warning the Captain,combining to churn his insides into a queasy place that violentlyrejected his pleasant breakfast of so short a time before. Then weak,but somehow feeling better, Chris lay in the cool while Amos found acold pool of water with which he bathed his friend's face, and thensat fanning him without a word.

  Chris must have dozed, for when he came to himself the light hadchanged, and men were carrying a shapeless bundle wrapped in canvas toa grave dug in the sand. Chris started up and joined the men gatheredsolemnly about the grave, and as he searched among them, knew a greatsense of relief and joy when he saw, standing at the grave head, theCaptain and Mr. Finney. As Chris came up to them, Captain Blizzard wasspeaking, a Bible in his hand.

  "Men of the _Mirabelle_, by rights as captain of the vessel I shouldread the burial service for Zachary Heigh, that met his death byaccident, boxes and crates killing him in the hold the way they did.But," and the Captain scanned the tough weather-beaten faces near himslowly, one by one, "you that helped to uncover him know what he meantto do. We harbored a viper, men, who meant to destroy our ship andcargo and leave us to who knows what fate? Had not the bung of thatkeg of molasses above the lighted fuse most providentially fallen outand the fuse been put out by the sirup, no doubt neither Mr. Finneynor I nor the _Mirabelle_ would be here to tell the tale."

  He paused again, but there was not a stir from his audience. Fromunder their dirty headkerchiefs or straggly unkempt hair, the men whoknew no other life but the sea, no happiness or danger unconnectedwith it, never took their eyes from their captain.

  "So, men," Captain Blizzard resumed, "the gunpowder that was meant tobe the end of our fine ship is now safe and out of harm's way, and thetraitor w
ho intended this infamous deed has been dealt with by fateand killed in a tomb of his own finding. Therefore, feeling as I dofor my ship and my men, I cannot bring myself to read the holy wordsover this man who had no charity in his heart."

  Captain Blizzard handed the Bible to Ned Cilley and stood with hishands behind him, nodding his head as if to stress his words.

  "Yet," he said, "he is being buried far from home and kith or kin. Itis not proper that he should be left without even a token ofrespect." He gestured with his plump hand to the Bible. "Do you settleamong yourselves who shall do the reading, but pardon me that I am sosmall a man, that I cannot forgive a villain!"

  So saying he turned slowly away, followed by Mr. Finney, who was morethan usually sober and solemn. Into the dry clatter of palm frondsrose the rough voice of Ned Cilley laboriously reading.

  "I am the Resurrection and the Life--"

  But Chris, watching the disappearing backs of the Captain and firstmate, was thinking what a curious and fortunate thing it was that thebales had fallen on Zachary just at the right time, and when there wasnot a ripple on the cove.

  Chris watched the fat short man and the tall lean one go, resolutionand anger still evident even in the set of their shoulders. The boywas thoughtful, thinking back over what Ned had said of them, thatfirst day on the docks: Faithful! he seemed to hear Ned say, that'strue of the two of 'em! Whatever they can do for Mr. Wicker is law forElisha Finney and Captain Blizzard.

  Chris thought them two very remarkable men indeed.