The Dragon of Lonely Island (10 page)

“A hoard is a
private
collection,” the dragon said. “You don’t understand, young man. One does not
share
a hoard.”

Jamie said nothing.

“It is the
nature
of dragons to hoard,” the dragon said uncertainly.

“Once, at home, at Christmas time,” Jamie said, “we had pieces of gingerbread. It was a special treat, but there weren’t enough pieces for everyone to have one all his own. We were supposed to share. But I didn’t. I took a whole piece for myself and went and hid under the stairs and ate every crumb. Later I felt awful. And Mr. Bingle said . . .”

“That cookies don’t count?” the dragon asked hopefully.

“No,” Jamie said. “That it was selfish. I knew it was wrong but I did it anyway. Mr. Bingle said that I had succumbed to temptation.”

There was a doleful pause. The dragon hung its head.

“You are right,” it said, after a moment. “Hoarding is selfish. Unspeakably so.” It miserably shuffled its golden claws. “I can’t think what came over me,” the dragon said. “I, too, have succumbed to temptation. I have been petty and foolish.”

Then it said, in a much smaller voice, “I am ashamed.”

“So am I, sir,” Jamie said. He looked down at his feet. “In your cave . . . it wasn’t just the pirates. I meddled with your collection too. I wanted to take some of your treasure. I almost did.”

“But you didn’t,” the dragon said.

Jamie opened his mouth to speak again, but the dragon held up a silencing claw.

“I, too, was properly brought up,” it said. “Father had very strict opinions about hoarding.”

For a moment the dragon managed to look small and guilty.

“Very strict,” the dragon said. It gulped nervously.

Jamie gave a sympathetic nod.

Suddenly the dragon leaned forward and gazed deeply into Jamie’s eyes. It studied him for a long moment. Jamie felt as though the dragon were reading his mind, turning over all his thoughts and dreams, one by one.

“
Keep all your promises,
” it murmured. “
Don’t take what doesn’t belong to you, and always look after those less fortunate than yourself.
Precisely. Father himself couldn’t have said it better.”

The dragon took a deep breath, lifted its chin, and squared its shoulders.

“You have set a good example, young man,” the dragon said. It glanced disgustedly toward the entrance to the hoard. “You have brought me to my senses.” It made a harrumphing noise deep in its throat. “I am inexpressibly grateful.”

Then it said, very solemnly, “Please hold out your hand.”

Jamie, bewildered, held out his right hand. The dragon stretched out a curved claw and pricked Jamie’s palm, precisely in the center. Jamie felt a sharp sting, like a bee sting, followed by a wonderful feeling of warmth. There, gleaming in the middle of his hand, was a tiny fleck of glowing gold.

“We are bonded,” the dragon said. “You are a true Dragon Friend.”

“You’ve been my friend, too,” Jamie said. “You saved Beetle and me from the pirates.”

Then Jamie reached out and very gently touched the dragon’s golden claw. “Please, sir,” he said, “could you help me get back home?”

Sarah Emily stirred and rubbed her foot, which had fallen asleep. “So what happened?” she asked. “Did you take him home?”

“I felt it would have been unwise,” the dragon said, “to put in a personal appearance. The populace would have been unduly alarmed.”

“So what did you do?” asked Hannah.

“I lit a signal fire,” said the dragon, “on the cliffs. It burned for eight days and eight nights, and on the morning of the ninth day, a ship came into view. It was the
Sea Lady,
and the crewmen remembered Jamie. ‘The gallant lad from the pirate ship,’ they called him. They took Jamie and Beetle away. They never knew I was there.”

“What happened to the pirates?” asked Zachary. “Did they just escape?”

The dragon gave a wicked reminiscent smile. “The sailors on the
Sea Lady,
” it said blandly, “had a strange tale to tell. There, in the middle of the ocean, they came upon the smoldering wreckage of a ship. A message was pinned with a dagger to the broken mast: ‘So perish the enemies of Red Jack!’ Not a soul on board was left alive . . .”

“So their old enemy caught up with them,” said Zachary. “Serves them all right!”

“Except a parrot, clinging to a floating spar. They took the parrot with them . . .”

“Ernestine!” cried Sarah Emily.

“And Jamie took her home with him and Beetle. The captain of the
Sea Lady
took quite an interest in Jamie, since Jamie had saved his life and those of all his men. Eventually he recommended Jamie for a commission in the Royal Navy, and Jamie became a sea captain. His ship was called the
Golden Dragon.
”

“But how did the Bingles manage?” asked Zachary. “They must have been happy to have Jamie back safe, but weren’t they still poor?”

The dragon looked embarrassed. “Hoarding is a sad fault,” it said. “A responsible dragon struggles to overcome it.”

“So you gave him some of the treasure?” asked Hannah.

The dragon gave a little cough. “Jamie Pritchett,” it said, “went home with a bulging sack of gold and jewels. Mr. and Mrs. Bingle and their adopted family lived happily ever after. There was money to mend the roof and to put pudding and roast beef on the table; at Christmas, there were presents for all; and Mrs. Bingle, who had been thin with worry, even managed to grow a little plump. . . .”

“What happened to the rest of the hoard?” asked Zachary.

“I gave it up,” the dragon said. “I gave it away.”

“Weren’t you sorry,” Zachary asked, “to lose your private collection?”

The dragon leaned forward and looked deeply into Zachary’s eyes. It studied him, unblinking, for several long moments. Then it nodded briskly, as though it had learned all there was to know about Zachary and had reached some important decision. Finally it answered Zachary’s question.

“No,” the dragon said. “I wasn’t sorry. It felt better. It was the right thing to do.”

It extended a gleaming golden claw and tapped Zachary companionably on the shoulder. “You’ll see,” it said.

Suddenly the dragon gave an enormous yawn. “Well,” it said, “this has certainly been delightful.” It yawned again. “Do come back when you can for another visit. We look forward to your return.” The sea blue eyes drooped sleepily and closed.

Then they flickered back open.

“If you could preserve your admirable reticence?” it murmured. “About our meetings? Things can be so difficult these days. . . .”

“He means don’t talk about him to anybody,” Hannah whispered to Sarah Emily. “He wants us to keep him a secret.”

“Of course we can keep a secret,” Sarah Emily said.

“You can count on us, Fafnyr,” said Zachary.

The glowing eyes closed again. The light in the cave dimmed.

“Good night, Fafnyr,” Hannah whispered. The children turned and quietly tiptoed away through the rapidly darkening cave.

Zachary reached into his raincoat pocket and pulled out his flashlight.

“Here, S. E.,” he said. He switched on the light and pressed it into Sarah Emily’s hand. “You carry it. It does make you feel better when you’re scared of the dark.”

It was too dim to see Sarah Emily’s face, but he could almost feel her smile.

“Oh, Zachary,” Sarah Emily said. “Thank you.”

The summer days slid by. The children chafed to return to Drake’s Hill.

“But we shouldn’t go too often,” Zachary warned. “People might get suspicious.”

Sarah Emily nodded. “We promised to keep Fafnyr a secret,” she said.

“We’ll wait a while,” Hannah said. “Until it’s absolutely safe.”

Mr. Jones brought the mail every day from the mainland:
Astronomy
magazine for Zachary, a letter to Mother from her publisher, a note in a flowered envelope to Hannah from Rosalie. But nothing came from Aunt Mehitabel.

“Why doesn’t she write?” Hannah fretted.

“Maybe tomorrow,” said Zachary hopefully.

But still no letter came.

As they waited impatiently until they felt it was safe to visit Drake’s Hill, they struggled to find ways to pass the time. Nothing worked very well. Hannah spent afternoons in the Tower Room, eating apples and reading Aunt Mehitabel’s old storybooks. Zachary went with Mr. Jones to dig clams and dragged out the telescope on clear nights to view the rings of Saturn and the moons of Jupiter. Father came for a visit and took the children on a trip to a marine biology laboratory on the mainland, where Zachary was nipped by a lobster and Sarah Emily petted a horseshoe crab. Mother finished her book. Mrs. Jones taught the children how to make oatmeal cookies, and Mr. Jones taught them how to row the boat. They went swimming in the sunny waters of the little cove below the boathouse.

Finally, a scribbled postcard arrived from Aunt Mehitabel. “Delighted to hear from you,” the card read. “Unexpectedly called out of town. Long letter later. Give my regards to F.”

“F,” Sarah Emily said. “Fafnyr.”

Zachary reached out and took the card from Hannah’s hand.

“There’s a P.S.,” he said. “In tiny letters down at the bottom. It says, ‘Don’t forget to use your heads.’”

“What does
that
mean?” asked Sarah Emily.

“This is awful,” said Hannah in dismay, as Zachary dropped the postcard on the table. “She didn’t tell us
anything.
”

“I can’t stand this waiting any longer,” said Sarah Emily.

“Neither can I,” said Zachary. “It’s been days and days. Let’s go see Fafnyr.”

“Let’s,” said Hannah. “I’m sure it’s safe by now.”

“And let’s take the boat,” said Zachary. “We can say we’re going to row along the shore toward the north end of the island to picnic on the beach. Then we can walk from there to Drake’s Hill.”

“Of course you may,” said Mother, when asked, “but remember the rules: Stay close to shore, stay together, and wear your life jackets.”

Mrs. Jones helped them pack a picnic basket. There was a thermos of lemonade, apples, oatmeal cookies, cucumber pickles, hard-boiled eggs, and packets of peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches. “Enough food for an army,” Sarah Emily said.

Zachary took first turn at the oars. It was a beautiful day and the water was calm and blue. Hannah chanted “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” and then “Anchors Aweigh” and “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.” Gulls circled overhead and the wind lifted the children’s hair.

“You’re awfully quiet, S. E.,” Hannah said. “What’s the matter?”

Sarah Emily, sitting in the bow of the boat, turned toward her brother and sister.

“Look how deep the water is,” she said. “There could be anything down there. Even right under the boat. Sharks or giant octopuses or some huge sea monster. What if we tipped over?”

“Oh, come on,” said Zachary. “Stop fussing. Look how close to shore we are. And you can swim. You won that ribbon in the swim race at camp last summer.”

“Second place,” said Sarah Emily. “I wasn’t very good.”

“You always say that,” Zachary said.

“No sea monster could possibly come in this close to land,” said Hannah. “It would scrape its stomach on the bottom.”

Sarah Emily still looked worried.

“Anyway, this is as far as we’re going,” said Zachary. “Look, there’s Drake’s Hill. Let’s land and eat lunch.”

He turned the boat toward shore. As they reached the shallows, Hannah jumped out and helped haul the boat up onto the sand. Zachary carefully turned the oars and propped them on the stern seat. Hannah lifted out the picnic basket.

“I’m starving,” she said. “Let’s eat right now. Mrs. Jones even packed a blanket for us to sit on.”

The children spread the blanket on the sand. Zachary began to unpack the food. Hannah poured lemonade into paper cups.

Presently, Zachary, his mouth full of hard-boiled egg, said in a muffled voice, “I can’t wait to see Fafnyr.”

“Me either,” said Hannah, finishing the pickles. “It seems like forever.”