Brian Jacques - [Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

Wilf was two steps above Ben. He turned on the new-comer. “It’s none of your business. Anyhow, who are you? An’ what do you want around here?”

Smiling even wider, the boy shrugged. “Oh, I’m nobody really, just been to the library to catch up on a bit of reading. But I don’t imagine reading interests you. No, you look more like the type who likes to color in the pictures.”

The rest of the gang looked at one another, shocked. You didn’t talk to Wilf Smithers like that. The village bully was the biggest, strongest boy in Chapelvale, and he had a reputation for being quick-tempered and extremely violent. Wilf’s face turned brick red at the stranger’s insult. Clenching both fists, he snarled dangerously. “I’ll color your face in for you, smart mouth!”

Amy shook with fright as Wilf launched himself down the steps, fists swinging. Ben was bound to get hurt.

However, the smaller, towheaded lad stood there, still smiling, as if unaware of the danger. Moving a swift half-pace to one side, he turned to face Alex. “D’you think he’s upset?” Ben ducked his head slightly.

It was a perfectly timed move. Wilf’s fist actually brushed the back of Ben’s hair, then he went sailing past his victim, carried by his own impetus. Stumbling awkwardly, he fell down the last four steps onto the gravel path. Before anyone could react, the boy skipped nimbly down and began hauling Wilf upright, helpfully brushing the bully’s clothing off.

“What a dreadful fall. Are you all right? Easy now, friend. Hope you haven’t broken anything!” Wilf’s nose had scraped the gravel, and a swelling was starting to show on his forehead. He shoved free of Ben’s hands.

“Leggo of me, I’m no friend of yours!”

The smile had never left Ben’s face for a moment. “Oh, what a shame, I hoped we would be pals. I was looking to make new friends in Chapelvale.”

The bullying girl grabbed Amy’s arm, digging her nails in cruelly. “I’ll be seeing you around!”

But she instantly released her hold, wincing painfully. Ben had her other hand in a curious grip and was shaking it heartily.

“Any friend of Amy’s is a pal of mine. Hope I’ll see you around, too. Look, Alex, I’m making new friends already!”

He released Regina’s hand. She shot a furious glance at Wilf, who called to the rest of the gang. “Let’s get them!”

Ben placed himself in front of Alex and Amy, backing slowly up the steps as the gang members began closing in. He whispered to his friends. “Get out of here, make a run for it. It’s me they want!”

Alex was about to dash off, but his sister caught his arm. “We’re not going without you, Ben!”

Before she could say any more they were surrounded. There was a panicked squeak from Tommo, the fat boy, followed by a deep, rumbling snarl. The gang froze!

The black Labrador had come up behind them like a phantom. Hair bristling, muscles bunched, he stood panther-like, ready to spring to the attack, quivering lips pulled back to reveal his powerful canine fangs.

Ben’s hand went up. “Stay, boy. . . . Stay!”

Regina pulled a small gang member in front of her for safety. “It’s the dog! Do you own it?”

Seating himself on the steps, Ben shook his head. “Who, me? No, I don’t own him, he just follows me about. Haha! He must like me, ’cos he’s not too friendly with anyone who tries to harm me or my friends. Ned, come on, boy, good dog!”

Stiff-legged and growling with menace, the big, black dog stalked up to stand beside his mate, throwing out a thought. “Let me chase ’em, just for exercise. That big one, Wilf, I’ll rip the seat out of his pants! I don’t like him one bit!”

Ben took hold of Ned’s collar. “Thanks anyway, but you stay put for the moment. Carry on with your fierce dog act.”

Ned strained against Ben’s hold on his collar, rearing up on his hind legs as if trying to get at the gang. Ben did his part by showing difficulty holding the dog back and calling, “You’d best get going, pals, but walk, don’t run, whatever you do. Go on, I’ll keep him here until you’re well out of the way!”

Amy had never seen the Grange Gang go so carefully. They retreated as if they were walking on eggs. From a distance, Wilf turned and pointed a finger at Ben.

“I’ll see you again, when you haven’t got that dog with you!”

The blue-eyed boy waved cheerily. “That’ll be nice, Wilf, take care of those scratches on your nose. It’s red enough as it is!”

Mr. Braithwaite emerged from the library, scratching his head. “Er, could you stop your dog barking, please? Hmm, I can, er, hear it, y’know, in the, er, er, library. Oh, it’s stopped, hmm, very good, very good. Nice doggie, er, run along now.”

Ned sent Ben a thought. “Huh, if I scratched as much as he does, you’d prob’ly say I had fleas and make me take a bath!” The towheaded lad could not help laughing aloud.

Amy stared at him. “What’s the matter, Ben?”

He flicked the hair from his eyes. “Oh, nothing really. You were right, Amy, Mr. Braithwaite is funny. I like him.”

16

OVER BREAKFAST ON SATURDAY MORNING, Ben had a request to ask of Mrs. Winn.

“Miz Winn, that room across the landing from my room upstairs, the one with the thick door and brass lock. What do you use it for?”

She looked at him over the rim of her teacup. “I don’t use it for anything, that was Captain Winn’s study. He called it his den. All his stuff is in there. I only go in once every couple of months to dust around.”

Ben had made an educated guess that the room would be the captain’s private sanctum. Apart from one or two souvenirs he had brought home for his wife and some photographs that decorated the mantel, there was not much evidence of a Royal Navy ship’s commander about the rest of the house. Evidently Mrs. Winn kept the room as some sort of shrine to her husband’s memory. She watched Ben’s eyes carefully.

Knowing what he was going to say next, he hesitated a moment before speaking. “Miz Winn, would it be all right if I took a look in there?”

The black dog had wandered up to the table. She patted his head, feeding him buttered toast crusts, and kept Ben waiting on her answer, which she gave after a lengthy interval. “Is it important that you look in the captain’s room, Ben?”

The boy nodded earnestly. “Time’s running short for your village. We might find something up there that could help.”

She took a final sip of tea. “Right, then, you may take a look this afternoon, when we get back from shopping in the village. I’ll need your help to carry things, I’m not just shopping for myself anymore. Come on, then, let’s make an early start!”

Hiding his frustration at not being able to search immediately, Ben thanked her and passed a thought to Ned. “Never mind hiding under the table, you’re coming, too!”

Morning sun dappled through the trees growing behind the village square. The place hummed gently with that Saturday morning sound of folk doing their weekend shopping. Ben carried Mrs. Winn’s basket dutifully, wondering when she was going to finish getting her supplies. They had gone from shop to shop, the old lady bustling about, dropping items into the basket, talking aloud to herself. “There, sugar and rice and some nutmegs for my Sunday rice pudding. Come on, young man, keep up!”

At last they emerged from the shop. Mrs. Winn pursed her lips, mentally itemizing the grocery list. “Oh dear, I forgot the tea! Maybe I’ll get some cocoa, too, a mug of cocoa’s nice at bedtime. Do you like cocoa, Ben? You stay here, I’ll go and get it.” She vanished inside the shop again.