[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman (22 page)

DUSK WAS TAKING THE PLACE OF DAYLIGHT. Outside the lace-curtained windows, a nightingale's melody was punctuated by an owl-hoot, and dusty moths beat their wings on the windowpanes, in an effort to reach the interior light.

It was just before Mrs. Winn's bedtime. She sat at the kitchen table with Ben, trying to help him with the riddle. He had told her of the discoveries that he, Amy, Alex, and Jon had made so far. The old lady seemed tired and despondent. “Do you really think any of this will help me and the village, Ben? Time's growing shorter by the day now. This all sounds a bit airy-fairy, compared to the way Smithers and his London firm are forging ahead. I looked at one of those clearance notices posted in the square. It's so official, so full of legal jargon. All ‘wheretofore' and ‘hereinafter' and ‘clause B subsection D,' it made my head spin. Oh, I wish we could come back at them with something more solid instead of a few ideas based on guesswork.”

Ben saw the old lady was close to tears. She was plainly scared and worried by the entire situation. He took her hand. “Stop fretting, Miz Winn, everything will turn out for the best, you'll see. Now come on, help me with this problem. ‘Turn as a third Gospelmaker would to the house named for the rock.' Does that mean anything to you?”

Mrs. Winn went to warm some milk. “There were four Gospelmakers: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. They're always referred to in that order, so Luke must be the third Gospelmaker. Does that make any sense?”

Ben watched her spooning cocoa and sugar into a jug. “Yes, yes. You're right! So which way would Luke turn, north, south, east, west; left, right, backward, or forward?”

The black Labrador, who was lying with his chin on both front paws, chuckled. “That's a question—which way would Luke look. Luke look, get it?”

Ben looked sternly at the dog. “This is no time for jokes. If you can't help, then take a nap.”

Ned closed both eyes, thinking, “Luke looks left.”

Ben answered the thought. “How d'you know that?”

The dog opened his eyes. “I can't explain it, but it sounds right, doesn't it? Luke looks left.”

Ben said it aloud. “Luke looks left. What d'you think, Miz Winn?”

She paused from stirring warm milk into the mixture in the jug. “Hmm, Luke looks left. . . . Of course, L is for left, R is for right. Luke starts with L, so that must be it. Well done, my boy!”

Ned snorted aloud and closed his eyes again. However, he soon opened them again when the old lady filled his bowl with hot cocoa. She poured warm milk for Horatio.

“He's never been fond of cocoa, so I give him warm milk.”

Ned threw out a thought as he slurped cocoa noisily. “Huh, foolish old feline!”

Mrs. Winn was far too tired to continue clue-solving. Ben took her arm and walked her through to the downstairs room where she slept. When he returned to the kitchen, Ned was standing alert, watching the door. He communicated a thought to his master.

“Keep quiet, mate. There's somebody outside!”

The patter of receding footsteps sent Ben hurrying to the door. He opened it in time to see the fat form of Tommo, scurrying through the gateway. A note had been fixed to the door with a tack. After allowing Ned out to check the garden for other intruders, Ben took the note in and read it. Wilf's hand was useless for writing, he had dictated it to Regina, but her spelling and grammar were no better than his. Ben smiled as he perused the untidy pencil scrawl.

Ned trotted in from the garden, shaking his head. “No sign of anyone out there, Ben, what's in the note?”

The boy folded the paper and shoved it in his pocket. “Just another of Wilf's little games, tell you tomorrow. What say we go to bed now, eh, pal?”

The Labrador wagged his tail lazily. “Good idea. Oh no, look who's at the window!”

It was Horatio. He had followed the dog outside and Ben, not knowing, shut the door on him. The cat stood tapping the windowpane and meowing plaintively. Ben let him in by the window, and Horatio cleared the sink in one smooth leap. Landing lightly on the floor, he glared accusingly at Ned.

Ben chuckled. “What's he saying?”

Ned translated the cat's thoughts. “The usual gobbledygook: sardines, milk, butterflies, mice, and so on. Says he likes being out of a night, but prefers to finish his milk inside.” The big dog drained his cocoa bowl.

“Sensible cat. Come on, Ned, bed for us. Good night, Horatio.”

Ned followed his master upstairs, chuntering to himself. “Sensible cat, my paw! Great, foolish furball, more like it!”

EARLY-MORNING SHOPPERS WERE drifting into Chapelvale village square, and shop-keepers splashed pails of water about, cleaning their section of walkway and entrance. A market gardener was delivering fresh vegetables and flowers to the green-grocers; the gardener's horse clopped its metal-shod hoofs against the cobblestones, causing sparks to fly.

Feeling slightly crestfallen, Ben arrived at the back of the almshouse only to find Alex and Amy already there with the old seaman. Furthermore, Amy had already solved the “Luke to the left” problem. Ben did not show his disappointment, telling himself that it was better for the villagers to help themselves anyway. He smiled at Amy.

“Clever bit of thinking that, L for Luke and L for left. I lay for ages trying to sort it out in bed last night—my mind was a blank. Good job you solved it, Amy.”

Jon sat down on the window ledge, stroking his beard. “Aye, our Amy's a bright girl, but it still don't solve much. Turn to the left yourself, Ben. What do you see?”

Ben did as Jon bid him, looking off to the left in a straight line. “Hmm, nothing much, just the usual countryside, trees, farmland, some fields, and the church on top of the hill.”

Amy stood alongside him. “We're looking for the house named for the rock, though what that's supposed to be goodness knows.”

Alex had an idea. “Maybe there's a house or a cottage out there called Gibraltar; that's a rock. Sometimes people name their house after a place they've visited. Or a religious person might have named their house after the Rock of Ages, like in the hymn.”

Ben nodded. “You could be right. Are there any places out there like that, named after a rock? Who'd know a thing like that?”

Jon stood up. “Mr. Braithwaite will know. Let's go and ask him.”

As they were about to pull the heavy door of the almshouse shut behind them, a voice called out. “Now then, young 'uns, she's runnin' fine today!”

A cheery, ruddy-faced fellow, clad in dairyman's smock and gaiters, reined up a smartly varnished gig, pulled by a dun mare. Ben followed Amy and Alex as they ran to greet him.

“Good morning, Will.” Amy patted the mare's flank. “Is Delia over her colic? She looks well!”

He eyed the mare fondly. “Ole Delia's bright as a button, thanks to your dad. I don't know what was in that medicine he gave her, but it certainly got rid of her colic. I've just finished my milk'n'eggs round, why don't you come up to the farm for a visit? Eileen'd be pleased to see you. Hi, Jon Preston, you ole hermit. Fancy a cup o' decent tea an' some scones up at my farm'ouse?”

Moments later they were in the gig, all sitting on empty milk churns and egg crates, as Delia jogged spiritedly up the back lane toward the hill beyond.

Alex looked around. “Where's Ned?”

Ben shrugged. “Oh, that fellow, he's probably off exploring somewhere. Don't worry about the old boy, he'll find us when he wants to. Is it far to the farm?”

Alex gestured up ahead. “About halfway up the hill, it's called Hillside Farm. Will Drummond is our local dairy farmer. His family've had a place up there for centuries. My dad often tends his animals when they're ill. He says Will's a good man, you'll like him. Bet his mother knows if there's a place named after a rock hereabouts. She knows everything!”

Will's wife, Eileen, was a bustling lady with an ever-present smile. Holding an infant of just over two years on her forearm, she came out into the cobbled farmyard to meet them. “Look, liddle Willum, 'ere's daddy, an' friends with him, too. Come on, Delia my beauty, I got an apple for ye!”

Introductions were made all around. Ben and Alex helped the dairyman unload the empty churns and egg-boxes before going in for tea.

Eileen Drummond's scones, served with clotted cream and strawberry jam, were a real treat. As they ate, Ben explained all they were doing in an effort to save Chapelvale but how time was running out. And how they couldn't figure out a house named for a rock.

It was cool and shady in the old, low-beamed farmhouse, with its whitewashed walls, tile floor, and little bull's-eye-paned windows. Will's mother, Sarah, sat installed in her wing chair by the fireplace, a Bible upon her knee, listening carefully until Ben finished talking. She was a bright, alert little woman, quick and bird-like in her actions.

Drawing a knitted black shawl close around her narrow shoulders, she shook her head disapprovingly at Jon and his three young friends and tapped the Bible meaningfully. “Place named after the rock?

“Hah, I can tell you haven't read your scriptures properly. But that's no surprise. Most folk these days don't seem to have the time to heed the word of the Lord!”

Will chided her gently. “Now now, Ma. Don't take on so. Just 'cos folks don't study scripture all the time, doesn't mean they ain't good people. Look at me, I don't read the Bible a lot, but I'm honest an' hardworking.”

His mother gave him a hard stare. “Ye'd be a lot better if ye did, Will, an' your friends, too. They should know what the Lord said to his disciple. ‘Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church'! 'Tis written here in the good book. So then, tell me, what's the name o' the church atop of this hill?”

Will blurted out, “St. Peter's!”

The old woman could not help looking slightly smug as she sat back, patting her Bible. “Tell me the rest of your puzzle.”

Alex recited the lines from memory:

“ ‘ 'Twixt here and there you must stop to drink, your first reward to unlock.' ”

Eileen smote the table so hard that she almost upset her teapot. “I got it!”

Baby Willum thought it was a good game, and he began banging on the tabletop and giggling. Eileen passed him to his father. “Go to Daddy, there's a good lad. I got it, I solved your rhyme! Hillside Farm is 'alfway 'twixt the almshouse an' St. Peter's church. We're the only place 'round 'ere with a well!”

Will bounced the baby up and down on his knee. “Ain't yore mum the clever one, babe Willum!”

The old seaman leaned across the table, his scone and tea forgotten. “I never knew you had a well here.”

Will allowed the baby to slide down and toddle across to Amy. “Been a well on this land as long as there's been a farm. Come on, I'll show it ye.”

Across the farmyard from the milking shed was a separate stone building, used as a storehouse. Will lit a lantern and hung it from a center beam. Sacks of potatoes, carrots, turnips, and root vegetables ranged around the walls. Cheeses lay on a wooden platform and hams hung from the rafters. In the center stood the well, housed by a circular stone wall with a bucket and pulley.

Eileen leaned over the wall and shuddered. “Dark ole place 'tis, though the water's cold an' sweet.”

Will wound the bucket down. They heard it splash into the water below. He hauled it up, filled to the brim. “Best water in the county, I reckon. It comes from an underground stream, purified by the limestone an' clear as a bell. What d'you reckon to look for down there?”

Jon stared down into the darkness. “The first reward.”

Eileen chuckled. “No reward for you, Jon Preston, you're far too big 'n' heavy to fit into a water pail.”

Immediately, Ben volunteered. “I'll go down!”

Armed with another smaller lantern, Ben sat astride the water pail. Jon and Will manned the pulley handle, the latter giving instructions. “There's some tools o' mine in the bucket if you need 'em. Go careful now, lad, and keep tight hold of that rope.”

The pulley creaked as the two men lowered Ben down into the wellshaft. Amy stood by, holding little Willum's hand. “What's it like down there, Ben?”

The boy's voice echoed up out of the shaft. “Just an old circular wall, nothing much to see. I'll look at one side on the way down and the other side on the way up. Hold that, Will! My feet are touching water!”