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

Jon stared down into the darkness. “The first reward.”

Eileen chuckled. “No reward for you, Jon Preston, you’re far too big ’n’ heavy to fit into a water pail.”

Immediately, Ben volunteered. “I’ll go down!”

Armed with another smaller lantern, Ben sat astride the water pail. Jon and Will manned the pulley handle, the latter giving instructions. “There’s some tools o’ mine in the bucket if you need ’em. Go careful now, lad, and keep tight hold of that rope.”

The pulley creaked as the two men lowered Ben down into the wellshaft. Amy stood by, holding little Willum’s hand. “What’s it like down there, Ben?”

The boy’s voice echoed up out of the shaft. “Just an old circular wall, nothing much to see. I’ll look at one side on the way down and the other side on the way up. Hold that, Will! My feet are touching water!”

Jon peered down at the light far below. The rope began straining and going from side to side. He called down. “Steady on, Ben. Don’t bounce about so much!”

“I’m just turning around so I can see the other half of the wall.” His voice echoed. “There, that’s better, haul up slow now!”

Will and Jon bent their backs to the task. They had not given more than four full turns when Ben yelled, “Stop! Lower away a touch . . . a bit more. . . . There, that’s it!”

Alex poked his head over. “What is it, Ben, what’ve you found?”

“One of the wall stones, bigger than the rest. Twice as large. It’s not cemented in like the others . . . someone’s jointed it in with lead. Wait a moment!”

There was a dull thudding of hammer and chisel, then Ben called up. “Aye, it’s lead. Easy to get out, it’s very old and perished. I can almost pull it out by hand.”

A splashing sounded from below, followed by the boy’s voice. “Sorry, Will, some of it has fallen into the water.”

The young farmer leaned over the edge. “Don’t you worry about that, boy, the stream’ll wash it away. Let the stone go if you have to.”

They could hear Ben grunting with exertion as he maneuvered the heavy stone, pushing it back and forth, using the chisel as a lever, reporting his progress as he went. “I’ve got it almost half out! Whew, it’s a big ’un, but it’s moving fairly well. Shall I try to get it into the bucket, Will?”

“No, the weight would be too much, lad. Let it go!”

This was followed by a booming splash, as Ben shouted out. “Well, that cooled me down. I’m soaked. Wait, I’ve got my arm in the hole where the stone was. There’s something here!”

Little Willum joined in the cheering that broke out. Ben yelled above the din. “I’ve got it, haul away, me hearties, take me up. I’ve got it!”

Alex and Amy joined Will and Jon, helping to turn the handles.

Ben arrived, beaming over the wellshaft at them. “Let’s get it out into the light for a proper look, pals!”

Eileen cleared the farmhouse table off, and they set the odd-looking object on it: a muddy lump, about twice the size of a normal house brick.

Ben prodded it. “Anyone fancy a guess at what it is?”

Eileen stopped little Willum trying to climb upon the table. “Dirty ole thing, what d’you reckon ’tis, Ma?” she asked.

Will’s mother reached out a stick-like finger and scraped it across the lump, then brought it close to her face. “Hmm, won’t know ’til we get all that tallow off it.”

The younger boy looked baffled. “Tallow?”

She rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. “Aye, lad, wax made from animal fat. Tallow.”

Jon took out his clasp knife. “You mean there’s something inside that lump of tallow? Let’s take a look. Good protection, wax is, a thing could stay forever encased in it.”

Eileen stayed the seaman’s hand. “Don’t cut it, you might damage whatever it is inside. Let me melt it off.”

The object was put in an old iron pot, which Will placed on the stone hearth, right against the fire bars. They stood around, watching it. Ben felt the room becoming oppressively hot. Smells of lamp oil and sea-damp clothing left to dry off came drifting back to his memory, the sway of deck planking beneath his feet, combined with the eternal sound of the restless sea.

“Oh, I can see a big golden ring!”

Amy’s delighted shout cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. Will’s mother was waving her apron.

“Whew, take it out o’ my kitchen, gold ring or no. It stinks!”

Will wrapped a cloth around his hand and carried the pot out by its handle. The iron vessel was quite hot and the wax was melting rapidly.

The boy was glad to be out in the fresh air. The soily sludge around the wax had dissolved and sunk. He could see the thing lying in the clear melted wax. It was not a ring; Amy had only glimpsed the rim.

It was a cup made from gold, an altar chalice!

The old seaman fished it out with two pieces of twig, then took the cloth from Will and carefully cleaned it off.

“Well, I never, look what a marvelous thing Saint Luke sent us!”

The chalice looked as new as the day it was made. Beautifully crafted in solid gold, covered in intricate carvings, with four pigeon-egg rubies set in its solid gold base.

Amy picked the chalice up reverently and held it high, letting the sunlight glint off the gold and rubies.

“The first reward, but what was it doing halfway down a wellshaft?”

Ben shrugged. “Who knows. I’d better go and get Miz Winn. She’ll want to see this. It must be worth a great fortune.”

Eileen came up with a good suggestion. “Let’s make it a surprise for her. I’ll make dinner for us all tonight, Ben. You tell Miz Winn she’s invited. My Will can call at the house this evenin’ to pick you both up. Ma ain’t seen Winnie for ages, have you, Ma?”

Will’s mother bustled back to the farmhouse, calling out, “I’d like to see Winnie. Better get the place cleaned up, though. Have to sprinkle some lilac water ’round, to get rid of that ole tallow smell.”

Ned was waiting anxiously for Ben when he got back. Ben patted his friend’s head. “Where’ve you been, mate? You missed cream tea and scones up at Drummond’s farm. Oh, I’ve got something to tell you.”

The black Lab allowed himself to be stroked as he passed on a thought. “I’ve got something to tell you first, Ben. I went up to Smithers’s house and heard Wilf plotting with his gang. I was by the back hedge when I heard them talking on the lawn. Listen to this. They’re terrified of Jon. Had some trouble with him. Call him the Mad Professor. But they don’t know that you’ve met him. Wilf is going to dare you to go inside the almshouse at midnight. He reckons Jon will eat you alive, or whatever it is that Mad Professors do to whoever goes into their almshouses. Just thought you’d like to know.”

Ben shook his head and grinned. “Then I’ll just have to look sufficiently frightened when he dares me. Wait’ll I tell Jon. Now, let me tell you what I found today. . . .”

28

MRS.WINNPUT ASIDE HER WORRIES temporarily. She was delighted to be asked out to dinner despite more signs having been tacked to every public building in the village. She knew the Drummond family well and had not been up to the farm since Captain Winn had passed away. She became quite excited when Ben hinted that an important clue had been found, but even though she pressed him, he would say no more. Whistling up his dog, Ben went off down the driveway. He wanted to discuss the coming night’s events with Jon. The old lady watched the pair, suddenly glad that she had taken in the boy from the sea and his black dog. She had a feeling events were starting to move along, things were about to happen. Mrs. Winn allowed herself a brief shudder of anticipation.