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

The blue-eyed boy felt pins and needles prickle his scalp, realizing the truth of her statement. He recalled another place and another time, long ago, when a man had ranted and called out against heaven. And he remembered the results of that day.

Eileen rescued little Willum, who was trying to sit on Ned’s back. “Ma’s right, Will. Any’ow, I think there’s too many cooks at the puddin’ round ’ere. Ain’t you got nothin’ else to do, you menfolk?”

Sergeant Patterson had an idea. “Why don’t you ladies and Mr. Braithwaite set your minds tae solving the puzzle. Ah’ll take the men out into the kitchen—there’s something Ah want tae speak tae them about.”

Winnie exchanged a secret smile with her friend Hetty. “Agreed, Sergeant. Would you mind taking these dishes out with you when you go and washing them? We’ll let you know when we want more tea.”

The sergeant paused in the doorway. “Right ye are, marm. Ben, Alex, bring the dishes out. You’re with the men now, ye ken!”

Amy handed her brother a cup and saucer. “Here you are, sir.” Alex took them, giving her a stern glance. After all, he was classed as one of the men now.

In the gathering dusk, Gripper jammed on the brake, throwing the motorcar’s occupants forward. “Flash, nip back ’n’ see wot it sez on that signpost we just passed. Go on, move yerself!”

Flash blinked, rubbing his eyes. “Go easy, willyer, Gripp. I was jus’ takin’ forty winks there.”

Gripper raised a threatening fist. “I’ll forty winks yer. Get goin’, yore supposed t’be the one keepin’ watch.”

Flash slouched off moodily back down the road. Gripper unfolded the sketch of Chapelvale, which had been supplied by Maud Bowe’s father, squinting at it in the half-light.

“Can’t be too far from the spot now, eh?”

He was answered by Chunk’s stentorian snore from the backseat. Using the leather gauntlet he had removed, Gripper turned and belabored the two sleepers vigorously. “Am I the only one wid ’is eyes open ’round ’ere? Wake up!”

The blows bounced off Chunk’s stolid face, and he opened one eye. “Wot’s the matter, are we there?”

Chaz snuffled, wiping a grimy sleeve across his upper lip and complaining as he inspected it. “Y’b started bee dose off bleedin’ again. Wodjer doo dat for?”

Flash interrupted further complaints by climbing back into the front passenger seat. “It sez ’Adford. Any good?”

Gripper explored the sketch with a grimy finger, repeating, “Hmm, ’Adford, ’Adford, lemme see . . . Hahah! There ’tis!”

Up in the far corner of the drawing, a road leading out of Chapelvale was marked “Hadford Rd.” Gripper realized that it was totally the wrong way to be approaching their destination. Hadford Road was at the north side of Chapelvale. Coming up from London, they should have entered by the south road, which ran parallel to the railway line. But he did not offer this information to the others.

Instead he announced proudly, “See, I wasn’t lost. Told yer I knew the way, didn’t I, eh?”

He continued driving, assuming that they agreed by their silence, until Flash spoke his thoughts over the chugging engine noise.

“But you said it was a four-hour drive. We been on the road since five this mornin’!”

Gripper had an explanation, as he always did. “Oh yerss, but lookit all the times we ’ad to stop. When that farmer was goin’ t’chuck a rock, when those cows blocked the lane, when we turned inter that farmyard by mistake, when youse ’ad ter push the motor backwards, when we asked the post office lady the way. It all adds time ter the trip y’know, all adds time!”

Chunk sighed wistfully. “I liked the post office lady, she was gonna give me some water. Wish I ’ad a glass now.”

Flash laughed mirthlessly. “Worrabout a glass o’ beer, that’s wot I need. An’ a good plate o’ steak ’n’ kidney pie. I’m starved, I only ’ad a slice o’ toast fer breakfist.”

Chaz dabbed the scarf to his injured nose. “Yuh, bee too, I’b huggry, you nebber stopped for food, nod once!”

It was rapidly going dark. Gripper clenched his teeth as he bumped over a fallen branch lying in their path. “Sharrap about food, you lot! Eat, eat, that’s all youse think about. One more word outta you, Chaz, an’ I’ll stop this motor an’ give yer a knuckle sandwich. How’ll that do yer, eh, eh?”

“Whoo!”

Gripper did not realize it was a nearby owl that had hooted. “You, that’s who, Chaz. Now, shut yer gob!”

“Bud I nebber said nothig, Gripp.”

Gripper nodded. “Just as well y’never, loose-lips. Aye aye, is that lights, up on that ’ill ahead?”

Chunk replied, “That’ll be ’Adford, can we get summat to eat when we gets there?”

Gripper kept his eyes riveted on the road. “We could if we was stoppin’ there, but we ain’t. Mister Bowe’s daughter’ll be wonderin’ where we’ve gotten to.”

Flash pulled a face. “Oh, that one, liddle miss snotty nose. My daddy sez you got to do this, my daddy sez you gotta do that. An’ she looks at yer like yer sumthin’ she stepped in!”

Gripper sniffed. “She can look at us any way she wants to, as long as ’er daddy pays up. Five guineas apiece fer puttin’ the frighteners on some old dame, just so she’ll leave ’ome. Not bad money fer a small job like that!”

Chunk’s stomach gurgled so loud it could be heard above the growl of the engine. He patted it sorrowfully. “Don’t know about five guineas. I’d settle fer a paperful of fish an’ chips right now, wiv salt an’ vinegar on ’em.”

“Can’t you think of nothin’ but yer stummick, y’great lump!”

A further abdominal gurgle almost drowned out Gripper’s statement. Chunk gazed mournfully at the passing countryside. “Well, I can’t ’elp it if me stummick’s bigger’n yours, Gripp.”

“Aye, if yer brains was as big as yer stummick, you’d be in charge o’ the country, Chunk, doin’ the prime minister out of a job. That’s wot you’d be doin’, mate!”

“Why, ’as the prime minister got a big stummick, Gripp?”

“The prime min . . . Jus’ go back t’sleep, willyer, Chunk!”

Flash propped his feet up on the dashboard. “Kin I ’ave a snooze, too, Gripp?”

Gripper let go of the steering wheel with one hand. He gave Flash a numbing punch on his shin. “No, y’can’t. You keep yer eyes open fer more signs!”

41

“ ‘ B E OF GOOD HEART,LIKE A FLAME pure and true, May the light of St. Mark bring my words unto you. E.D.W.’ ” Mr. Braithwaite and the ladies sat in the gathering gloom, staring at the paper as Amy read the rhyme for the third time.

Ben entered the room with a lighted taper. “Jon told me to bring some light to you before you ruin your eyesight staring at that paper.”

Mrs. Winn had neither gas nor the new electric light, favoring the old ways, and kept four ornate oil lamps in her sitting room. The boy lit them all, one on the mantelpiece, two on the window ledges back and front. He touched his taper to the wick of the largest lamp with its tall glass chimney and a cream-hued bowl. This lamp stood on the same table as the paper and gave off a wonderfully soft glow.

Ben chuckled. “Now you can see to think properly. Miz Winn, I’m going out with the men.”

A worried frown creased the old lady’s brow. “So that’s what you were all discussing in the kitchen. I knew as soon as the sergeant read out the telegram about the four men coming here in the motorcar. Be careful, Ben, and do exactly as Sergeant Patterson tells you—they could be dangerous.”