The Hotel Under the Sand (17 page)

T
HERE WAS NO
further pursuit by wicked Uncle Roderick. No bully is a match for a dreadful ghost, nor for two determined ladies with a cannon.

Emma and Masterman swept up the broken glass and splinters, while Winston went into the storerooms to see what might be there to repair things. He found plenty of glass, putty, and spare paneling on hand.

The only thing of which there wasn’t any extra was the watered-silk wallpaper, but after digging the cannonball out and sanding the edges of the hole smooth, they hung a painting of a peaceful country brook over it. You would hardly have known there had been any disturbance at all—at least, not once the cannon was retracted back under the Lobby floor.

They saw many interesting things during the rest of the voyage, such as leaping dolphins and spouting whales, and albatrosses with wings big as airplanes. The guests, who had noticed the noise of the sea battle but assumed it was sound effects for the cinematograph, played shuffleboard on the verandah when the weather was fine.

At last they came in sight of a beautiful green mountain rising from the sea, with waterfalls and palm groves. There were pink and green parrots chattering in the groves, pulling flowers from the hibiscus bushes. There were green meadows and clear pools of water. But there was no hotel whatsoever for anyone who might land there. Captain Doubloon cut the engines on the
By-the-Wind-Sailor
and lay her to, and came out on deck to call across to the hotel.

“Here it is! If this wasn’t a desert island, there’d be no end of cruise ships stopping here. We give folks some nice civilized amenities and they’ll be lining up to go ashore!”

“This looks like a nice place,” said Emma to Winston, who had come with her to the verandah. The guests, who had been having breakfast in the Dining Room, all rushed to the windows and exclaimed in admiration. Mrs. Beet hurried up from the Kitchens. Even Masterman struggled to his feet and came staggering out.

“Oh, it’s
land!”
he said fervently. “Let’s stop here!”

“What do you think?” Emma asked Winston. “Would we be able to run the hotel from here?”

“Well, sure,” Winston said. “Look at all that fine scenery, and freshwater!”

“Oh, my, look at all those coconuts,” said Mrs. Beet. “I can bake fresh coconut custard pies.”

“Please don’t talk about food,” said Masterman, turning green again. “Drop anchor here, Captain!”

So Captain Doubloon dropped anchor in the blue bay. He came over to the hotel in his rowboat, and for a while went back and forth, ferrying people ashore.

The beautiful people set up beach chairs on the sand, put on sunglasses, and immediately lay down and basked in the sun. The Freets went at once to the hibiscus bushes and wandered among them, exclaiming happily in their strange speech. The People of the Sands led their camels off to graze under the palm trees.

Mr. Eleutherios and his lady friends gathered coconuts and pineapples, and very quickly invented a new kind of fruit punch. They found a shady place under the trees and threw a party. Mr. Eleutherios played surfing songs on his guitar.

“Well, it looks like the guests are having a lovely time,” said Emma. She squinted up at the Grand Wenlocke, where it bobbed quietly offshore, just beyond the breakers. Winston stood at the window, looking out wistfully. She waved to him. “The only problem we have now is how to get the hotel ashore.”

“That’s no problem at all,” said Masterman, who sprawled in the warm sand with Shorty curled up at his feet. “See those big palm trunks up there? We just run the cable around them and use some pulleys to winch the hotel onto the land.”

“How d’you reckon we’ll manage?” said Captain Doubloon. “The guests ain’t going to take kindly to being asked to haul on the cables, and we can’t do it alone.”

“Don’t be silly!” said Masterman, in such a superior voice Captain Doubloon scowled at him. “I can do it myself, once we get everything arranged according to plan.”

“A shrimp like you?” Captain Doubloon roared with laughter. “Not likely! I’ll bet you half me treasure you can’t do it.”

Masterman leaped to his feet, causing Shorty to jump up in excitement.
Uh-oh
, thought Emma, seeing the gleam in Masterman’s eyes.

“The bet’s on!” said Masterman. “You have obviously never heard of Archimedes.”

“Who?” said Captain Doubloon.

“There’s an encyclopedia in the library. Look him up sometime,” said Masterman, as he ran for the boat. “Come on, Emma!”

Captain Doubloon had to row them out and help them unhook the cable drum from the
By-the-Wind-Sailor
, and he helped them get it ashore. After that, though, Emma and Masterman were able to run the cable around the palm trunks themselves. There was some complicated work involving a lot of pulleys borrowed from the ship, and Emma lost count of all the intricate twists and turns they made. At last Masterman fastened the winch where he wanted it. With a smug smile he began to crank the handle.

Inch by inch, slowly but quite easily, the Grand Wenlocke moved ashore and then up the beach, as though it weighed no more than a rowboat. Captain Doubloon gaped at it, and his parrot laughed.

“That’ll teach me,” groaned the captain. “Half me treasure’s yours, boy.”

“Thank you,” said Masterman. “Where shall we put the hotel?”

“What about that nice green lawn up there?” suggested Emma, pointing.

When the Grand Wenlocke was where they wanted it at last, Captain Doubloon went around and removed all the cable and empty barrels. The hotel sank into the green grass, but only a little, and then stopped.

“Hurrah!” said Winston, flinging open the doors. “What a beautiful view!”

He got very busy after that, washing the salt spray off the windows and unfastening everything that had been lashed in place while the hotel moved over the rolling waves. Emma and Masterman helped him, while Captain Doubloon and Mrs. Beet went strolling arm in arm, looking for coconuts.

No sooner had they gone off among the trees than a raft came floating up to shore, with a lot of people waving from it. It turned out that the castaways were players from a ballroom orchestra who had been in a shipwreck, and very conveniently saved their instruments—all except for the pianist, who was disconsolate. He brightened up considerably, however, when he learned that the Grand Wenlocke had a piano. He set about tuning it right away, and soon there was music flooding out of the open windows of the Ballroom.

That night there was finally a Grand Ball in the Grand Ballroom to celebrate their safe arrival. Emma was able to wear the splendid pink party gown at last! She came slowly down the stairs in her finery, like a princess in a fairy tale.

As the band played, the beautiful people danced only with one another, sleek elegant ballroom dancing. Mr. Eleutherios and his lady friends, by contrast, danced very wildly, scattering grapes and leaves everywhere, but they had a great deal of fun and their faces became very flushed. The Freets danced a sort of minuet, slow and dignified. The People of the Sands disliked dancing, but sat to one side of the Ballroom with their camels, listening to the music.

Captain Doubloon, resplendent in what looked like an old Navy uniform, bowed very low and invited Mrs. Beet out on the dance floor, where they waltzed in a stately if slightly lopsided fashion. Winston lifted Emma in his arms and danced with her, round and round under the twinkling stars. Masterman watched them awhile, pouting, and at last took Shorty’s front paws in his hands and joined the dancing as well.

So the Grand Wenlocke settled into its new location, safe at last. It shone on its green lawn, with the sunlight glinting off its windows. Cruise ships passing by spotted it and put in at once. It was a great success.

Captain Doubloon did indeed propose to Mrs. Beet, and they got married by a missionary, who paddled over in a canoe from a nearby island. Mrs. Doubloon (as she was called now) sent the missionary back with an advertisement for kitchen help to put in his local paper. Soon she was able to hire a large staff to work in the Kitchens with her, so she didn’t get so tired or need to sit and put her feet up so often.

On the evening after its Grand Relocation Re-opening, Emma went for a walk by herself.

She wandered out across the lawn behind the hotel, and up the hillside beyond, where a little path zigzagged between the trees. It went up quite a long way. Sometimes there were natural steps made of boulders; sometimes the great branching roots of trees themselves made steps. She climbed under canopies of flowering vines, and through thickets of big flowers like hibiscus, and plumeria, and tiare. They made the night air sweet-scented.

Emma came out in a meadow at the top of the hill, and saw the moon rising over the sea. There was the sleepy sound of the waves rolling in on the beach far below, and the sleepy cry of a night bird somewhere back in the trees.

Emma sighed in happiness and sat down, looking out at the night. She knew she could face down any storm that blew. She had made herself a place in the world. No one but she would sit behind the high desk in the Lobby, handing out keys to the guests who came. She thought that it might be a good idea to learn a few of Mrs. Doubloon’s secret recipes too, for a girl never knew when she might need to soothe a band of fearsome pirates by whipping up a steamed pudding with rum sauce.

Below her on its lawn, the Grand Wenlocke was a glory of polished brass and crystal, shining like a golden lantern. The rooms were full of music that drifted out on the night air.

Emma had begun her adventure alone, in terror and noise, blown far away from all she had ever known, and had landed in a lonely place with nothing but broken and forgotten things. Now she had come to this peaceful night, and this beautiful mountain.

It would be nice to say that she looked out and saw a boat approaching, with everyone she had lost in the storm waving to her from its deck; but it wouldn’t be true. Sometimes we never get back what we lose.

Emma sat for a long while under the stars, remembering the past. She felt, at last, safe enough to cry a little for the people and things she had lost in the storm. She knew she would cry again, as time went on, whenever she thought about them. She knew she would never forget them, and that their loss would always hurt.

But
she
, Emma, wasn’t lost anymore, and she knew that the people she had lost would want her to survive, to be happy, to make a new life of her own. She would grow up into a poised and accomplished young lady, while Masterman was growing into his great-grandfather’s suits and becoming a handsome and clever young man. Possibly they would fall in love and get married. Possibly they wouldn’t. They would certainly have many more adventures together, whatever Storms blew.

Emma dried her tears. She got up and went back down the hill to her friends.

The End