The Dragon of Lonely Island (13 page)

When their bottled water ran out, they went exploring once again and found a tiny freshwater stream that, followed back through the trees, led to a miniature sparkling waterfall. A series of deep pits was dug in the stream bank, and there were confused marks of large clawed tracks and a trail of something being dragged. “Look, Hitty,” said Will, “this must be where the dragon gets her clay.”

Hitty was already scrabbling in the muddy holes. “I’m going to dig some too,” she said. “We can make pots and bowls of our own and dry them in the sun.”

Each day they hoped for a passing ship
—
“They must be looking for us by now,” Will said
—
but no one came.

“We can’t go on like this,” Hitty said finally one morning. “There are thousands of tiny islands in the Pacific. They may never find us. I think we should go ask the dragon for help.”

“She doesn’t want to see us,” said Will. “She doesn’t want people around.”

“Well, maybe she’ll help us just to get us out of her hair,” Hitty said.

This time as they rounded the path to the dragon’s hut, they heard a voice, reciting. The dragon was home. “‘My heart leaps up when I behold,’” she was saying flutily,“‘a . . .
something
. . . in the sky.’ . . . Drat . . . !” There was a hasty rustle of pages. The dragon was memorizing poetry.

“It’s
rainbow,
” Hitty whispered loudly to Will. “‘My heart leaps up when I behold a
rainbow
in the sky.’ William Wordsworth. We had to learn it at school.”

The dragon poked its head out of the hut. It held a red-covered book in one claw. “Ah,” it said in unenthusiastic tones.“Visitors.”

“We’re sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” Will said politely.

“We were just wondering,” Hitty said, “if you could give us some help.”

The dragon closed the book with a snap. “You don’t look,” it said, “as though you need any. You seem healthy and well fed. Doing quite well for yourselves, I would say. Except, perhaps . . .” The dragon critically surveyed first one child and then the other. “I would suggest more regular baths.”

Will looked at his bare feet and Hitty blushed.

“It’s not that,” Hitty said. “At least, we’ll try to. Take baths, I mean. Our real problem is getting off the island. We don’t want to stay here forever and I know you don’t want us around. And our father needs to see a doctor. Couldn’t you help us get back home?”

The dragon snorted and puffed out an impatient cloud of smoke. “Impossible just now,” it said. “I am in the midst of a series of botanical experiments, studying photosynthesis in seaweeds.
Pho-to-syn-the-sis,
” it repeated distinctly, when Hitty and Will looked puzzled, “is the process by which plants convert sunlight into food.”

“You mean,” said Hitty, her voice rising in dismay, “that you think
weeds
are more important than people?”

The dragon glared at her coldly. “I am afraid,” it said, “that you lack the scientific mind.” It turned and swept briskly back into the hut. Over its shoulder, it spoke one last time. “For heaven’s sake, use your heads,” it said. “Have you tried
signaling?
” Then the sound of rustling pages began again.

“Well,” said Will, “I guess that’s that.”

“Signaling,” Hitty said thoughtfully. “I think I have an idea.”

There were parachutes in the cockpit of the plane. Will watched as Hitty gleefully pulled one from its pouch and spread it out on the sand, an enormous stretch of white-and-orange silk, fastened to a canvas harness. Hitty rocked back on her heels and grinned up at Will.

“We should have thought of this before,” she said, gesturing at the opened parachute. “Look at this. It’s a perfect signal flag.”

“You mean just leave it here on the beach?” Will said. “I don’t see what good that will do.”

“No.” Hitty shook her head. “We’re going to fly it. If we get it up to the top of one of those palm trees, the wind will billow it out like a flag. Anyone passing by should be able to see it from miles away. Look how bright it is.”

It was awkward climbing with the parachute bundled in her arms, but Hitty managed, clinging to the tree trunk with her free hand and bare feet, like a monkey. At the top of the tree, she wrapped the canvas harness straps tightly around the stubby branches, spread the parachute silk as best she could, and flung it upward into the air. The wind caught it and filled it out, a huge ballooning mushroom of orange and white. Below her on the beach, Will jumped up and down and cheered.

“You did it, Hitty!” he shouted. “A signal flag!”

Hitty dropped down beside him on the sand. “I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before,” she said.

The signal flag flew day and night above the palm tree, snapping and flapping in the ocean breeze. Father was better now, able to sit up for short periods at mealtimes and once even to hobble out onto the beach for a nap in the sun. The children built a small fireplace of flat stones, collected from the shallow water on the north side of the island, and arranged logs around it to serve as benches. They made a rack of branches tied with vines, on which they hung their clothes to dry after washing them in the ocean. Hitty fashioned a set of clay checkers
—
half marked with the letter H for Hitty, half with a W for Will — and the children played on a board drawn in the sand with a stick.

The days passed slowly, with no sign of rescue. No ship sailed by and no plane flew overhead.“It looks like we’re here forever,”said Hitty. Will sighed.

Then one afternoon they had an unexpected caller. Father, still weak, was asleep in the hut. Will and Hitty were on the beach, bowling with a pair of coconuts for balls and a set of driftwood chunks for pins, when a great shadow swept across the sand. There was a thunderous sound of beating wings overhead and a scent of spices and smoke. The dragon landed. For a moment it studied their little camp: the hut, the fireplace, the drying rack, the row of clay pots arranged on a log bench, the grass basket filled with fruit, the checkerboard, outlined with pebbles, in the sand. Then it looked up at the parachute waving overhead as a signal flag.

Slowly it gave an approving nod.“Well done,” it said to the children.“Very well done. No young dragon could have done better.” It looked again toward the hut.“Your father is inside?” it asked. “I should like to meet him.”

Father had heard the sound of the dragon’s landing. Painfully, leaning on a stick, he limped out of the hut. “Will!” he called. “Hitty! What . . . ?” Then he simply stood still, gaping open-mouthed at the dragon.

The dragon politely inclined its head.“I trust your health is improved, sir?” it inquired.

Father gulped unbelievingly and nodded. “Yes,” he said, in a choked voice.“Thank you.”

The dragon settled itself on the sand. “Upon reflection,” it said, “I find that I have been a bit hasty. Inconsiderate. Even”— the dragon looked down at its feet —“neglectful of duty. It is always important to help those in need.” It shuffled its front claws in an embarrassed manner. “Therefore,” it said, “I have reconsidered your problem and I have a proposition to make.”It curled and uncurled its golden tail.“You would like to return to the mainland. I will take you there. However, there is a condition.”

“What condition?” asked Will.

“What do you mean?” asked Hitty.

“As you know,” continued the dragon, “I value my privacy. I will not have shiploads of strangers or persons in those . . . ,” it paused, looking pointedly at the crumpled wreck of the airplane, “aerial contraptions . . . crashing about on my island, disturbing my peace, and interrupting my experiments.” The dragon sighed. “There are so few places left,” it said.

“We would never tell anybody,” Hitty began, but the dragon held up an admonitory claw.

“We dragons have a talent,” it said. “We can cause you to forget.”

“You mean like amnesia?” asked Will. “We won’t remember where we were or anything that happened?”

“How do you do it?” asked Hitty.

“Just look into my eyes,” the dragon said, and turned its cool silver gaze on Hitty. “Just look into my eyes.”

As Hitty stared directly into the dragon’s eyes, they seemed to grow deeper, wider, cooler, until she was engulfed in a swirl of silver. Her own eyes began to blur, and the world around her swayed softly out of focus, becoming more and more dreamlike and far away with each passing moment. Nothing seemed quite real. . . .

With a jerk of her head, Hitty tore her eyes away. She felt dizzy and disoriented. The beach seemed to waver up and down under her feet.

“You see?” the dragon said. “I can take away all your memories of the island. Of me.” It waved a claw at the little camp.“Of all this,” it said.

Father cleared his throat. “It’s fine with me,” hesaid.“There’s nothing here I want to remember. As long as we can all get back home again.”

But Hitty ran forward and laid a hand on the dragon’s golden scales.“Oh, please, no!” she cried. “Please! I’ll never tell! I promise! As long as you’ll let me remember you!”

Will stepped forward. “And me,” he said. “I don’t want to forget you either. I promise too, Fafnyr.”

The dragon looked slowly from Hitty to Will and back again. It studied their upturned faces. Then it nodded its head.

“Now,” it said, “please take down that annoying signal flag.”

They flew by night, sailing dreamlike over endless water. There was a thin crescent of moon and the stars were reflected beneath them, glittering in the dark rolling sea. They hung from the dragon’s claws, safely wrapped in a hammock made from the white-and-orange parachute. Father, hypnotized by Fafnyr’s cool silver eyes, slept. Hitty and Will were wide awake. Wind rushed warmly through their hair and from above them came the rhythmic comforting thrum of powerfully beating wings.

“We’ll be home soon, Hitty,” Will said in Hitty’s ear. “Home. Doesn’t that sound good? Ice-cream sodas and sleeping in your own bed again. . . .”

“And Mother,” Hitty said. “She’ll have been so worried. Still . . .” She looked up at the shining golden dragon, winging its way steadily through the summer night. “Still, I hate for this to be over.”

Will reached down and squeezed her hand.

Hours later, they landed on another, colder beach. The dragon laid them down gently on the sand. The children crawled out of the entangling folds of parachute and stood up. Above them shone the yellow lights in the windows of a house.

“Our house,” said Will. “At last. Thank you for everything, Fafnyr.”

“Your father will wake up soon,” the dragon said. “I suggest you have a suitable story prepared. Perhaps you were picked up by a passing ship while he was ill.”

“We’ll think of something,” said Will. “We won’t give you away. Don’t worry.”

Hitty laid a hand on the dragon’s smooth golden scales.

“Where will you go from here?” she asked. “Back to your hut on the island?”

The dragon was silent for a moment. “I think not, my dear,” the dragon said. “Your arrival, from the standpoint of privacy, was the beginning of the end. It is clearly only a matter of time before others follow in your . . . er . . . footsteps.”

“But if you don’t go back . . . ,” began Will.

“I must consider,” the dragon said.“There are so few places left. Antarctica, perhaps? Still quite empty.” Its voice dropped and it seemed to be talking to itself.“But so unpleasantly cold. And all those monotonous penguins.”

“Fafnyr,” Hitty said suddenly, “you could stay here.”

“This is a private island,” said Will. “I mean, our family owns it. Nobody lives here but us. We go back and forth to the mainland by boat.” He pointed across the dark water to the distant lights of a town.

“At the north end of the island,” said Hitty, “there’s a hill, and in it there’s a cave. Nobody ever goes there. We went inside it just once, with a lantern. It’s enormous. You’d be safe living there forever. And we’d never tell anyone about you — never, as long as we live.”

The dragon’s silver eyes glistened, and its voice, for a moment, wavered.

“A Resting Place,” it said. It looked from Hitty to Will and back again.“I am staggered,” the dragon said. “I am overwhelmed.”

“A Resting Place?” asked Will.

“A Resting Place,” the dragon said, “is a sanctuary. An utterly safe and hidden place. A haven.” Then it said, in more down-to-earth tones, “A good place to sleep.”

“You’ll be quite alone there,”said Hitty. “It’s very peaceful.”

“I am in your debt,”the dragon said.“I accept your most generous offer.”It blinked rapidly and sniffed. “Perhaps you would come and visit me sometimes.”

Then the dragon said solemnly,“Please hold out your hands.”

Hitty and Will, exchanging a puzzled glance, each held out a hand, palm upward. The dragon lifted a golden claw and pricked their extended hands, precisely in the center. Hitty gave a little cry of surprise. There was a sharp sting, which quickly vanished, followed by a soothing warmth. The children stared, wide-eyed, at their hands.

“I sparkle,” said Hitty, in a whisper.

Will said, “So do I.”

In the center of each child’s hand was a tiny gleaming point of dragon-gold.

“We are bonded,” said the dragon huskily. “I am sorry I misjudged you in the early days of our acquaintance. You are true Dragon Friends.”

There was a heartfelt pause.

“The gift of your cave,”the dragon said. “That was a dragonish thing to do.”

“We’ll never forget what you did for us, Fafnyr,”Hitty said.“We wouldn’t have survived without you.”