The Pirates in the Deep Green Sea (28 page)

‘Then hang my tripes on a dirty clothes-line,' roared Scumbril, ‘if we're safe after all! Your plan's worth nothing, Inky. You've brought me to an island where I'm known! The Dumb Boy, who is not dumb, he knows me well. The other boy has seen me, and so has the man called
Sturgeon. And they're in league with Davy Jones, so if I'm found, I'm lost!'

‘And so am I, Dan, so am I. We're all in the same boat,' said Inky. ‘And talking of boats, the two little boys and the man called Sturgeon may still be safe and snug in the sail-locker where we left them.'

‘Build no hopes on that,' said Scumbril. ‘Davy Jones or his men will have found them by now, and set them free.'

‘Then we must go into hiding for a little while, until the hue and cry dies down. Davy Jones will go south again, to his summer court, and when he's withdrawn his men, we shall escape to sea and look for new friends—and with my silver tongue, Dan, I'll never fail to make friends!'

‘But you'll fail to find anywhere to hide,' said Kettle. ‘There's no hiding-place, not except this, in all the island.' And he described how he and Pott had looked for an empty cottage, and how the dogs had barked at them, and a boy had been frightened by their appearance. ‘There's nowhere to lie-up, and it doesn't do no good to disguise yourself,' he concluded.

‘So there's the problem, Inky,' said Scumbril, ‘and you're the man with the brain and the silver tongue, so you can wrestle with it and tell us the answer. And tell us quickly, for I'm losing patience with you!'

‘All in good time, Dan my dear. There's an answer to everything, if you can find it.'

‘Pott and Kettle were looking for a house, and couldn't find one.'

‘I wonder if they found a church? ‘asked Inky.

‘There's one down about the middle of the island,' said Kettle.

‘And what good will it do us? ‘asked Scumbril.

‘When I was a little boy,' said Inky, ‘I had a favourite uncle, who was a smuggler. He used to smuggle brandy and tobacco, and he always tried to bring in his cargoes early on a Monday morning, because where he used to hide them was the parish church. Well, if he got in on a Monday, he had six clear days to dispose of his cargo, and his brandy and tobacco, which would fill the whole pulpit sometimes, was as safe as if he'd locked it up in the Bank of England. Because no one—at least no true-born Englishman—would ever dream of going to church on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, or Saturday: now would he?'

‘True, true,' said Scumbril. ‘We're famous for propriety, we Englishmen.'

‘Well then' said Inky, ‘if brandy can lie safe and undisturbed in the pulpit of a parish church, so can we.'

‘Boil my brisket and serve it up with dumplings and spring carrots,' roared Scumbril in high delight, ‘if you're not the greatest genius that ever lived in salt water! I take back all the abuse I've given you. You're a better man than I am, Inky Poops! Your tongue is silver, and your brain's pure gold! To
sleep in the pulpit—oh, it's the prettiest plan I ever heard!'

‘I've always been good at making plans,' said Inky, smiling complacently, ‘and I flatter myself that this is one of the best of them. We've got somewhere now where we can sleep all day in perfect safety, and at night we can go out and look for our vittles. —You can always rob a hen-roost in the country: that's why so many people live in the country. —But before taking up our new quarters, we've got to make sure of one thing first. We've got to find out what day of the week it is, so as to be sure it isn't Sunday to-morrow.'

‘To-day, you mean,' said Scumbril. ‘It's after midnight now.'

‘Quite right, Dan, you're quite right. Well, what day is it to-day?'

There was silence for a long minute, and then Pott, speaking almost for the first time, exclaimed, ‘Wednesday.'

‘How do you know that?' asked Scumbril.

‘Newspaper,' said Pott.

‘That's right!' said Kettle. ‘I remember seeing it too. —That man Sturgeon,' he explained, ‘used to bring us a newspaper every day, and the last time we saw him, this being the early morning, was the day before yesterday. And it was Monday's paper he brought us then, so to-day's Wednesday, and Pott's right.'

‘Then we have four days to lie in peace,' said Scumbril, ‘and already I feel a kind of yearning
for sleep. To sleep in church, as I used to do when I was a little boy! To the pulpit! Come!'

They set out, down the beach and over the fields, and soon found a hen-roost from which they took a dozen new-laid eggs. Then they walked quickly past sleeping houses and drowsy cattle, and did not stop again until they stood by the door of the parish church. The church stood on a little round hillock, and the nearest house was a quarter of a mile away. Inky Poops lifted the great iron latch, and the door opened; but before going in he said to Scumbril, ‘I've thought of something else, Dan my dear.'

‘Let's hear it,' said Scumbril, ‘for you're a man whose thoughts are valuable.'

‘True, Dan, very true,' said Inky, ‘and what I've thought of now is that you and I would be safer still if we were disguised. Because we'll have to venture out by night, you see, to look for our vittles, and we might happen to meet someone who was going home rather later than usual.'

‘Well thought of,' said Scumbril, ‘and my good friends Pott and Kettle have provided our disguise already.—Off with those clothes, my lads. Your captain needs them, and you can raid a sleepy house and find some more.'

Pott and Kettle grumbled a little, but Scumbril made them take off their borrowed clothes, and he put on Sam Sturgeon's blue suit—and split the jacket up the back—while Inky dressed himself in Mrs. Matches' tartan skirt, her blue jersey and her
grey shawl, and her mother's bonnet.

In a corner of the graveyard there was a little shed where the gravedigger kept his tools, and it was decided that Pott and Kettle should lie there. And having seen that they were comfortable, Dan Scumbril and Inky Poops went to sleep in the pulpit.

‘A little farther,' said Cully. ‘Move it
that
way a little.—No, no, you silly boy, the
other
way!'

Cully lay in the rock-pool under the west cliffs of the Hen, and William Button and Henry String were looking after him. He was a difficult patient, and kept them busy. His eight long arms had been so badly strained by his heroic determination to hold the severed cables together, that he had lost all power in them. The dreadful strain had pulled them out to twice their ordinary length, and they were quite limp and useless. He could not lift them, nor hold on with them, because there was no strength in them. But otherwise he seemed to be in fairly good health, and he had recovered his spirits.

He had thought of a very ingenious way in which to lie comfortably in his pool, and that was to fasten each of his arms to a large stone which would serve as an anchor. He had told William Button and Henry String to find eight suitable stones, and tie them to the tips of his arms, and now he was instructing them where to place the stones so that he could lie exactly in the position he wanted. He was very particular, and every
stone had to be moved a dozen times at least before he was satisfied. But he decided at last that he was as comfortable as he could be, and after giving the Powder Monkeys a little good advice about things in general, he fell asleep.

William Button and Henry String sat down and talked about the great battle of the day before. William boasted of having led the rescue party to the wreck in North Bay, and then of seizing Inky Poops by the leg and very nearly taking him prisoner. Henry String, after an interesting ride on the handle-bars of Mrs. Matches' bicycle, had had some difficulty in finding the patrol that lay near the skerries; but later on, he said, they had performed remarkable feats and captured seven pirates. They both agreed that, had it not been for them, the battle would not have been so successful.

Then Cully woke up and complained that the sun was in his eyes. The day, indeed, was very fine and warm, and the sun shone from a clear blue sky. There was no shade near the pool, and William Button offered to move the anchor-stones nearer to the edge of it, so that Cully could sink to the bottom. But that was not what Cully wanted. He wanted to float and he wanted a sunshade.

‘That's it!' he exclaimed. ‘That's what I need—a sunshade! And if you haven't got such a thing with you, I can tell you where to find one. Go and look for Timothy or Hew. They're both extremely nice boys, and they're sure to have a sunshade in their house.'

The Powder Monkeys had been forbidden to leave the Hen, but rather than argue with Cully, William set off to see if the boys were down at the pier, and met them walking across the sand. Timothy had a basket of new-made scones and a pot of jam for Cully, and while Hew returned to look for a sunshade, he and William Button went on to the pool.

‘You never expected to see me like this, did you? ' said Cully in his most mournful voice. ‘A poor old worn-out octopus, no good to anyone! Just a bit of wreckage on the sea of life. Ah me, ah me! — But what have you got in that basket, Timothy?'

‘Some scones that Mrs. Matches baked.'

‘Scones! Oh, I'm very fond of scones!'

‘And there's some butter and a pot of jam.'

‘What sort of jam?'

‘Black currant,' said Timothy.

‘Black currant!' cried Cully. ‘Why that's absolutely and completely and far-away my favourite jam of all!—Well, what are we waiting for, Timothy? Don't waste time, you foolish boy.'

So Timothy began to spread the scones with butter and black-currant jam, and leaning over the pool placed them one by one in Cully's beak. And while he was so engaged he told Cully how proud of him they were, and said they all owed him more than they could ever repay: ‘Sam Sturgeon says that to hold on like that, when you must have thought you were going to be torn apart, was the
bravest thing he ever heard of.'

‘Duty, duty,' said Cully with his mouth full. ‘All I did was done in the way of duty.—Another scone, please.—It was my job to hold on when required, and when the need arose—there wasn't enough jam on that last one—I held on. It wasn't pleasant, and I didn't like it.—Another, please.—It was, as a matter of fact, extremely painful, but when you've been brought up to do your duty—they
are
good scones! And it's so nice to get really fresh butter—well, you just do it. Though I must say that I hope I shan't ever have to do it again.—Well, one more, if you insist.'

‘And I've got something else to give you,' said Timothy. ‘When we were on our voyage to Davy Jones's court, we met a friend of yours: Miss Dildery.'

‘That lovely creature!' exclaimed Cully. ‘Tell me how she is!'

‘She's very well, I think. She came to see us when we were on our way home again, and sent you her portrait. Here it is.'

Timothy showed him the drawing that Dingy the Cabin Boy had made on a round piece of whalebone, and Cully exclaimed, ‘What a delightful picture! And so like her, isn't it? Dear Dildery!'

‘She sent a message too,' said Timothy. ‘She asked me to give you her love.'

Very sadly Cully shook his beak and said, ‘Too late, too late! That lovely young creature could not
love a poor old cripple like me. There was a time—but not now. Oh no! No, no, no! Love comes too late. Ah me!'

He looked inexpressibly sad, and on the lower rim of his saucer-like eyes there hovered two large tears. Timothy felt very embarrassed and hardly knew what to say next; but Hew appeared, just at the proper time, with a yellow sunshade that had belonged to their mother, and gave Cully something else to think about.

‘What a handsome sunshade!' he cried. ‘It's exactly what I had hoped for. Thank you very
much for bringing it! And now give it to William Button, please, and he'll hold it over my head.—Hold it higher, William, and move a little to that side. No, the
other
side, you silly boy!—There, that's better. That's very comfortable. Now put Miss Dildery's portrait on that little ledge of rock, Timothy, where I can see it. That's right!'

Cully shone like a great buttercup under the yellow sunshade, and with his eight arms securely anchored, and four boys to attend to him, he looked very comfortable indeed.

‘There's something to be said for
not
being able to work,' he admitted. ‘For work is a great nuisance, the greatest nuisance in the world, and if you're a cripple no one expects you to work, and you haven't got to dodge it, so to speak. Hold the sunshade a little higher, William.'

But William Button had closed the sunshade and tucked it under his left arm. He and Henry String stood straightly at attention, and faced the sea. Knee-deep in the water stood Davy Jones himself, with Aaron Spens and Gunner Boles close behind him. Timothy and Hew ran to meet them, and Davy Jones came majestically ashore.

‘For more than three hundred years,' he said, ‘I had never left the green sea and its deep caverns, to walk upon the land, till I set foot, two nights ago, on the little island of North Rona. And now already—so quick is the heart to find new moorings—I feel a kind of love for sun-warmed rock and the soft turf.'

‘I hope you'll come ashore often,' said Timothy politely.

‘Come and stay with us,' said Hew.

Davy Jones laughed and said, ‘Your many-times-great-grandfather has a great longing to visit the house he built, and to please him, and please myself too, I have promised to bear him company and drink a pint of wine with you—or rum if you have not wine, or ale if you have not rum. But we must wait, I said, for your invitation.'

‘But of course you're invited,' said Timothy. ‘It will be a great honour for us.'