Cherry Ames 09 Cruise Nurse (15 page)

“Once she’s put in entire charge of Timmy’s care,” Cherry decided, “she’ll never turn him over to Nanny again. Gradually, I’ve got to make her assume the responsibility herself.”

Cherry, after her sleepless night during the storm, was glad to undress and go to bed as soon as Timmy had had his medication and inhalation.

They played guessing games until they both fell asleep simultaneously in the middle of a question.

Cherry had set her alarm for 11:45, but she awoke with a start at ten.

Timmy was quietly sobbing in the other bed: “I want my Fuzzy-Wuzzy. I want my Fuzzy-Wuzzy.”

Cherry scrambled to his bed and took him in her arms. He was half awake, half dreaming. She said comfortingly: “I’ll get him for you, honey. Tell me where you hid him.”

But he only kept on sobbing: “I want my Fuzzy-Wuzzy. I
have
to have my Fuzzy-Wuzzy.” Cherry searched every nook and cranny in the cabin.

There was no sign of a little black-and-white panda.

Timmy would not stop crying. Cherry looked into the other room and saw that Mrs. Crane had not yet 138
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AMES,

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returned from dinner. She was no doubt dancing in the club, taking advantage of Cherry in the capacity of both nurse and “sitter.”

Timmy began to punctuate his sobs with sharp, racking coughs. That would never do.

Gently, Cherry shook him until he was more fully awake. “I can’t fi nd your Fuzzy-Wuzzy,” she said. “You must tell me where you hid him. Then I’ll get him for you right away.”

Timmy looked doubtful. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Timmy’s shoulders stopped shaking immediately.

“He’s in the swimming pool,” he said.

Cherry gasped. “In the pool? How on earth did he get there?”

“I dropped him,” Timmy said. “Early this morning while Mummy was still asleep, I went out to see that pool. And Fuzzy-Wuzzy said he wanted to go swimming. So I let him go.”

“Oh, Timmy,” Cherry moaned. “Did he sink right away?”

“Not
right
away,” Timmy told her. “He fl oated around looking up at me. And then I couldn’t see him any more. He went under the diving board.”

The little panda must be at the bottom of the pool now, in the shadow of the diving board. That was why nobody had seen him and returned him to Timmy.

There were no other children aboard ship.

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“I’m sorry, Timmy, I can’t get him for you,” Cherry said desperately. “I’m not allowed to go in the pool.” Timmy’s face fl amed. “You promised,” he shouted in uncontrollable rage.
“You promised!”

“I know I did,” Cherry admitted regretfully. “But I thought Fuzzy-Wuzzy was in your room somewhere.”

“You
knew
he wasn’t,” Timmy howled, “I
tole
you so.

I told you Henry was
freezing
when he looked around in here.”

“Oh, dear,” Cherry sighed inwardly. “How can I ever make this little boy understand rules and regulations?

He’ll think I just don’t want to keep my promise. He won’t trust me any more and I’ll never be able to do another thing with him.”

Timmy’s tirade made it all too clear that Cherry, if she refused to keep her promise, was “out” as far as Timmy was concerned. “I won’t stay inside my tent,” he yelled. “I won’t eat anything. I won’t drink anything.

I won’t stay covered up, I’ll jump overboard and get all drownded. Then you’ll be sorry!”

He screamed on and on, between spasms of coughing.

Cherry said as calmly as possible: “I’ll ring for a steward, Timmy. Waidy will get your bear for you.”

“Don’t want Waidy to get him. Want
you
to get him.

You promised.”

“Waidy will get your mother, Timmy,” Cherry said, without much hope. “She’ll bring you back Fuzzy-Wuzzy.”

“No, she won’t!” Timmy kicked off the covers and straggled to get out of bed. “I tole her to get him this 140
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morning. She’s an ole ’fraidy-cat. Scared to go in deep water.”

Cherry gave up. After all, what harm was there in her taking a quick dip in the pool? It was a silly restriction anyway, as Ziggy had pointed out: “As though you and Doc, the cleanest people aboard ship, might contaminate the water.”

Doc! That reminded Cherry of Rule 7. “When in doubt the ship’s nurse is always to consult the ship’s surgeon.”

But that meant disturbing Kirk’s rest. He had had no sleep the night before either.

And Timmy was now in a dangerous state of excitement. She must act quickly. The chances were that none of the passengers would recognize her out of uniform. To most of them, she was nothing but an autom-aton in a stiffl y starched white dress and cap. Charlie’s Christmas present would be a perfect disguise.

“All right,” she said to Timmy, tucking him back in bed. “I’ll get your little bear. But you’ve got to keep covered while I’m gone.”

Timmy’s sobs immediately subsided. “I knew you would, Cherry.” He grinned. “You’re just like me. You
always
keep your promises. I won’t get out of bed even if a big ’normous pirate comes in and chops off my head.” Cherry hugged him. “Nobody’s going to chop off your head. Ill bring Fuzzy back just as soon as I can.” She raced down the corridor, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her, and her thoughts raced too. Perhaps the missing panda was the answer to the missing

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ambergris. Timmy himself might have found the precious powder in a box or a jar that very fi rst day aboard ship. Like most little boys’ favorite toys, Fuzzy could easily have burst open at the seam that joined its head to its body. And it would be just like Timmy to cram something in that opening.

If that were true, Jan’s ambergris must now be at the bottom of the pool!

In her own cabin Cherry quickly changed from pajamas to the lovely rose taffeta suit. It took but a minute to slip into beach clogs, then with her soft terry cloth robe wrapped around her, she hurried up to the pool.

It was still crowded with passengers, and Cherry mingled with those who were chatting and laughing around the diving board. Nobody paid any attention to her at all.

She caught a glimpse of Jan and a nice looking boy leaning against the rail of the veranda above the pool.

Oh, why hadn’t she thought of Jan? Jan would have been delighted to help out. But it was too late now. It would take too long for Jan to change from that long fl owered chiffon frock to a bathing suit.

Cherry didn’t dare risk attracting attention by diving off the board. She slipped unobtrusively down the steps.

The fi rst dive was unsuccessful. On the second, she saw something dark on the bottom under the board. After the third she came up triumphantly with a very waterlogged little black and white panda. One squeeze told her that it was stuffed with nothing but wet cotton.

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“Well,” she thought, shaking herself, “I’ve christened Charlie’s present anyway. So far so good. If I can only get back to my cabin without getting caught!” Cherry had to admit that she had enjoyed her illegal dip in the cool, salty water of the tiled pool. Refreshed and glowing, she slipped into her robe and clogs. Now to stroll unconcernedly away.

She was halfway down the steps to B deck when she heard someone coming up. In another moment she saw that it was the steward, Waidler, bearing a tray of soft drinks.

Cherry sucked in her breath. Would he recognize her? If he did, he would most certainly report her to the captain. That meant dismissal. Dishonorable discharge, in other words.

Cherry was tempted to turn and fl ee back up the stairs. But that, of course, would only make matters worse. If she kept right on going as though she had every right in the world to be wandering around in a terry cloth robe at 10:30 P.M., he might not even give her a passing glance.

Gripping the soggy panda, she marched on, head held high. They passed each other on the landing. Out of the corner of her left eye Cherry noted with relief that apparently Waidler had not recognized her. But, a few steps above her, he stopped.

She could feel his eyes boring into her back. Her knees began to wobble, but somehow she managed to keep on going.

c h a p t e r x i i i

A Stolen Letter

it was a hot, almost tropical night, but cherry was s haking as though the ship were plying its way through Arctic icebergs.

Waidler, she felt sure, had recognized her. His attitude from the very beginning had been unfriendly, to say the least. Furthermore, Ziggy had told her that Waidler was a very conscientious steward. Even if he and Cherry were the best of friends, he might well feel that it was his duty to report her. She had fl agrantly violated two rules:

“Out of uniform aboard ship.” And, very obviously,

“out of bounds.”

He couldn’t have missed her damply curling black hair. Waidler knew that Cherry had been in the pool!

Back in her own cabin, Cherry rubbed herself dry and donned pajamas and wrapper. The bunny-toed scuffs warmed her nervously icy feet. What would the next morning bring?

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AMES,

CRUISE

NURSE

Dr. Monroe would not be “Kirk” when he reprimanded her. He would he very much the dignifi ed young ship’s surgeon. And the captain—the Old Man—? Would he put her ashore at Curaçao? Bleakly Cherry faced disgrace—the end of her nursing career.

And then, to cap the climax, when she hurried into Stateroom 141, she found Timmy fast asleep, one hand curled peacefully under his fat, rosy cheek.

For a moment Cherry felt like bursting into tears.

She should have realized that Timmy couldn’t possibly care very much about his panda. If he had, he would have demanded it a long time ago. He had simply put on a scene—just for the fun of it. And she had foolishly sacrifi ced her nurse’s reputation to fulfi ll a childish whim.

“That’s Ames for you,” she told herself sternly. “Always letting the heart rule the head. Will you
ever
learn?” But she had her reward when the alarm clock went off an hour later. Timmy’s eyes popped open, and then, when he saw what was sitting damply on his glass-topped bed table, his eyes grew big as saucers.

“My Fuzzy-Wuzzy! My fuzzy little Fuzzy-Wuzzy.

I thought you had drownded. But Cherry saved you, didn’t she, Fuzzy?”

Cherry carefully pinned a square of rubber sheeting around the soggy little panda. Timmy cradled him in his arms, crooning:

“Nobody could fi nd you, ’cept Cherry. Cherry’s even smarter than Henry. I
tole
Henry you were on the

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145

bottom of the pool. But he just laughed and laughed.

He didn’t b’lieve me.”

Cherry’s heart went out to the little boy. He hadn’t dared hope that he would ever see his panda again.

That was why he hadn’t asked for it. To Timmy, the pool must seem as bottomless as the ocean. The poor lamb had been silently yearning for his pet ever since he had watched Fuzzy fl oat under the diving board.

Suddenly Cherry had a thought. She had already committed two crimes; why not another? All three of them were for the same good cause. She could hear Mrs. Crane coming into the next room now.

“I didn’t save Fuzzy, Timmy,” Cherry said in a clear voice. “Your mother did. When I got to the pool she had already found him. She’s not a ’fraidy cat. She went right into the deep water and dived and dived until she came up with your little bear.”

Mrs. Crane rustled into the bedroom. She looked puzzled, but Cherry silenced her with a quick glance.

Timmy held out his arms. “Mummy,
you
got my Fuzzy-Wuzzy! You’re just ‘bout the smartest person in the whole wide world.”

Cherry left them hugging each other. In the bathroom she pounded the sulfa tablets to a powder. Then she mixed the medication with a jar of strained apricots. As she approached the bed, Timmy said fi rmly:

“I want my mummy to feed me.”

Mrs. Crane smiled gratefully up at Cherry. Her lips said, “You darling, you!”

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At the moment Cherry was glad she had told a deliberate lie. But the next morning she was not so sure.

With Cherry supervising, Mrs. Crane had prepared Timmy’s sulfa mixture, taken his temperature, which was normal, given him his inhalation, bathed and dressed him for breakfast.

“There,” Cherry whispered when they were alone together in the bathroom. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was fun,” Mrs. Crane admitted. “As long as the mercury stops at that nice red arrow I guess I can read his temperature all right.”

Cherry turned to go back to Timmy and froze in her tracks. Waidler had just come in with the little boy’s breakfast tray.

Cherry held her breath. Would he accuse her in front of passengers, or would he wait? Had he already reported her?

Waidler was staring, as though fascinated, at the little black and white panda. Timmy displayed his pet proudly:

“See, Waidy? Fuzzy didn’t get drownded after all.

My mummy went right into the deep, deep water and got him back for me.”

The steward set down the tray and said gruffl y, “Well, that’s good, Tim.”

He knew perfectly well that Mrs. Crane had not even appeared in a bathing suit the night before. She had been wearing a lovely full-skirted gown of crisp white pique, from dinnertime to midnight.

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Waidler picked up the damp panda. “So this is the Fuzzy-Wuzzy you’ve been talking about all the time?”

“That’s right,” Timmy said. “I wanted him awful much cause he
always
sleeps with me. And last night when I couldn’t sleep, my mummy got him for me.” Waidler left without giving Cherry so much as a glance. She thought agonizedly: “Now he despises me.