Night Birds On Nantucket (11 page)

‘Sounds as if maybe someone gets their water through it,' Dido suggested.

‘But there are no farms anywhere near the Hidden Forest! And that's not the end of the story.'

‘No? Hurry up, then, Dutiful, my eyes is closing in spite of themselves.'

‘I thought I would feel my way along the pipe and so get out of the wood. But I had not gone very far when I bumped into a man.'

‘What sort o' man? What was he doing?'

‘Oh, Dido, he was strange! He was tapping on the pipe with a hammer. He gave a great start when I bumped into him – I would have screamed, but that
he
seemed even more frightened! I said I was lost, and which way to Soul's Hill? And he said, “Whisper”, laying his finger on his lips and looking all round, and then he pointed which way I should go and led me to the edge of the wood. Then he whispered something, and it took me
such
a long time to make out what he was asking – he spoke in such a strange, foreign way! At last I realized that it was
boots
he wanted – he showed me his feet in thin, foreign-looking shoes, all wet and torn and muddy. So I promised I would see, there might be an old pair of Papa's sea-boots, and was that all he wanted? And he said – I
think
– that he had a great longing for something sweet, could I bring him any cakes or sugar or jam? To keep out the cold and damp. He said he would wait by the fork in the track every night from seven till nine.'

‘Was he a beggar?'

‘No indeed I am sure he was not! For he gave me money to pay for the boots – three English gold coins.'

‘
English
coins? How d'you know they were English?'

‘Because there is a picture of a king and the words
Carolus II Rex Br
.'

‘Good cats alive!' Dido said. ‘An old guinea piece! There's still quite a lot on 'em about, my pa used to get
them for playing on his hoboy. D'you think the man was English, Pen?'

‘He certainly was not American. But he didn't speak like you – his language was very queer. He was a sadlooking man with a face like a monkey, and big ears, and nearly bald. He said not to tell anyone that I had seen him, and if I came with the boots I was to croak like a night-heron. I
think
that was what he meant. And he said how glad he was that he would soon be back in Europe.'

‘
Did
he?' Dido was more and more interested. If this man is really going back to Europe soon, she thought, and if I could make friends with him, and if I could get Pen fixed up somehow . . . Who can the man be?

‘We must look him out a pair o' boots tomorrow, Pen,' she said. ‘I don't mind taking 'em to him if you're scared to go back. There's a deal of old boots up in the attic.'

And one pair of salt-stained, bottle-green ones that ought not to be there, she remembered, just before she went to sleep. Was it possible that Aunt Tribulation and the veiled stowaway of the
Sarah Casket
were one and the same person?

AUNT TRIBULATION HAD
evidently decided that it was easier to keep an eye on the girls if she got up, for the next day, and all the days following, she was downstairs by seven conducting a close scrutiny into all that went on. Indeed, as Dido said, it was hard to believe that anything had ever been the matter with her at all, so active and vigilant was she now in pursuit of the children and in keeping them hard at work.

‘What does she take us for, perishing slaves?' grumbled Dido.

It was by no means so easy to circumvent Aunt Tribulation now she had come downstairs. She was large and strong, much larger than Dido, who remained small for her age, though wiry and healthy. After Dido had been rapped with a thimble numerous times, shut up in the grandfather clock, deprived of meals, and made to sit on the whale's jawbone for two hours, she saw that cunning and strategy would be needed.

‘As well as learning you to stand up to her, Pen,
we've someway got to make her
humble
, so she's real sorry for her nasty nature and won't never bother you no more,' Dido said one morning when they were out hoeing the cornfield.

‘Do you think that would
ever
be possible?' sighed Penitence.

‘Have you written the letter to your Pa yet?'

‘Yes, I have it in my chemise pocket.'

‘Now, the mischief is, how're we going to get it to Nantucket to post it? No use to give it to old Mungo and ask
him
to take it to the mail office.'

Market days had come and gone, but Aunt Tribulation had sternly vetoed any idea that Dido or Pen might go in with the farm produce and do some shopping. Mungo, as usual, was sent on his own with a written list of groceries needed, which the owner of the main store would check and supply.

‘If we could give the boots to your monkey-faced friend,
he
might post the letter for us,' Dido presently reflected. ‘The trouble is how to wheedle Aunt Trib outa the house so's I can slip up to the attic and grab a pair. She never stirs except just into the yard.'

‘I could tell her one of the sheep was sick and ask her to come up to the pasture.'

‘She wouldn't care,' said Dido, who privately suspected that Aunt Tribulation knew little more about farming than the girls themselves. ‘No, I have it, Penny, you must pretend you think I've fallen down the well. She wouldn't like that; no water, for one thing, and who'd do the work? She'd come out to help you grapple for me with a rope, and I could nip round to the back and climb up the willow tree and in our window.'

‘But if she found out?' breathed Pen in horror.

‘We could say you made a mistake. I'll drop my red shirt down, so's it looks like me down there,' said Dido. ‘Pity we couldn't drop Auntie Trib herself down.'

In pursuit of this plan Dido contrived that evening to smuggle out her red shirt hidden in a pile of cheese-cloths, and dangle it down the well on a loop of thread until it caught on a projection about thirty feet below. The weather favoured them; it was misty again, and dusk was falling. Dido beckoned to Pen, who was in the hen-house, and whispered:

‘Now,
screech
!'

‘Oh,' faltered Pen, ‘I don't believe I can!'

‘Consarn it, Pen, you'd screech fast enough if a wild bull was rushing at you! Let on that one is!'

Pen gave a faint wail.

‘Louder than that!' hissed Dido. ‘Here, I'll do it!' She let out a fearful scream and then quickly slipped away round the corner of the house. The back door flew open and she heard Aunt Tribulation's voice.

‘What's the matter?'

‘Oh, Aunt T-Tribulation,' Pen stammered, ‘I'm – I'm afraid Dido's in the well.'

‘Blimey,
she'd
never get to Drury Lane,' Dido groaned to herself as she rapidly shinned up the willow tree. ‘I never heard sich a rabbity bit of acting.' She scrambled in at their chamber window and pulled the spare attic key out of her pocket.

In a moment she had darted up to the attic and seized the largest and least worn pair of sea-boots; then, on a sudden thought, she tiptoed to the bundle of clothes behind the chest, pulled out a bonnet, and looked inside.
It bore a London dressmaker's label and a name: Letitia M. Slighcarp. So did the cloak. Dido did not dare wait to examine the rest of the clothes; she fled silently down the stairs again, relocked the door, and was out and dropping from the willow tree all in the space of half a dozen heartbeats. She could still hear voices and splashings from the direction of the well so she thrust the boots into a clump of fern, strolled nonchalantly round the corner, and remarked:

‘Hilloo? Dropped summat in the water?'

It was as well she arrived when she did for Aunt Tribulation had tied a rope round Pen, who had a perfectly ashen face and was shaking like a leaf, and was apparently on the point of lowering her to the assistance of her companion.

‘You abominable girl! Where have you been?' Aunt Tribulation exclaimed, dashing at Dido and boxing her ears.

‘Down the orchard, hanging up the cheese-cloths. Why, whatever's the matter?'

‘Didn't you hear us shouting? Penitence thought you were in the well.'

‘No, did she?' Dido replied, and burst out laughing. ‘You
are
a one, Pen! You musta seen my shirt, that blew down when I was taking it to hang out. What a sell!' And she began to sing:

Aunt Tribulation, perfectly enraged, exclaimed, ‘So you thought you'd make a fool of me, did you? Oh, you wicked little hussies, you shall have nothing but bread and water till the end of the week!' and she flew at Pen, who was the nearer, and shook her till she whimpered:

‘It was Dido's idea, Aunt Tribulation, not mine! P-p-please stop! It was Dido's idea!'

‘Oh-oh,' Dido said to herself. ‘Here we go again. Now we
shall
be in the suds.'

But just at this critical moment an interruption occurred.

By now it was thick dusk and they could see only a few yards. Sounds, however, carried clearly in the mist, and they suddenly became aware of voices and footsteps approaching up the lane.

‘Someone's coming!' breathed Penitence.

Aunt Tribulation turned her head sharply, heard the voices, and hissed, ‘Go indoors, you girls! Make haste!'

Astonished, the girls did as they were bid, but went no farther than the deep porch. They were too curious to know who the visitors might be, for no callers had come to the farm since their arrival. Was Aunt Tribulation expecting somebody?

A voice – a boy's voice – said, ‘Here we are, I b'lieve. Ain't this the Casket place?' Then, apparently seeing Aunt Tribulation, ‘Evening, ma'am. Would you be Miss Casket?'

‘Yes I am,' she snapped, ‘and I don't allow tramps and beggars on this land, so be off with you both!'

‘But ma'am –' the boy began to protest, and then Pen gasped as a man's voice said slowly and wonderingly:

‘Why, isn't this Soul's Hill? We're home! However did we come to be here?'

‘Be off!' Aunt Tribulation repeated.

‘But ma'am! He's your brother! He's Cap'n Casket, don't you
know
him?' the boy blurted out and at the same moment Pen cried,
‘Papa!
It's Papa come home!' and Dido shouted, ‘Nate! Nate Pardon! What in mercy's name are you doing here?'

Both girls rushed forward joyfully, but checked a little as they came in view of Captain Casket. He looked thin and dazed, older than when they had seen him last; in a few weeks his hair seemed to have become a great deal greyer. But he smiled dreamily at Pen and said, ‘Ah, Daughter, I am glad to see thee well.'

‘Nate, what's happened?' Dido said quickly in a low tone. ‘It's not the ship – the
Sarah Casket
–?'

‘We don't know,' Nate replied in the same tone. ‘Let's get him indoors, shall we, before I tell you about it? He's still not himself.'

‘Come in where it's warm and dry, Papa,' said Pen protectively, and took Captain Casket's hand to lead him in. He looked about him, still with the same bewildered expression, and said:

‘So thee is living at home now, Penitence? I am glad of that. But who is this?' pointing to Dido.

‘Why, Dido Twite, Papa. Don't you remember her?'

‘Perhaps,' he said, passing a hand across his brow. ‘I am tired. I become confused. Then who is looking after thee?'

‘Papa, don't you remember Aunt Tribulation? Here she is! She has been – has been looking after us.'

‘Ah yes, Sister Tribulation. She said she would come,' he murmured.

At this moment Aunt Tribulation, who had remained in the rear while these exchanges were going on, stepped forward, firmly took Captain Casket's other arm, and said:

‘Well, Brother! Fancy seeing you home so soon! Deceived by the mist, and never thinking but that you were several thousand miles off, I almost took you for a tramp! This is a surprise, to be sure! What has become of your ship? Not a wreck, I trust?'

She seemed less than pleased at seeing her brother; indeed, thought Dido, she seemed decidedly put out.

Captain Casket looked at her in his wondering manner and murmured, ‘Can it really be Sister Tribulation?'

‘Of course it is I, Brother! Who else should it be?' she exclaimed impatiently, leading him in.

‘Thee has aged – thee has aged amazingly.' He sat down in the rocker, shaking his head.

‘We're none of us getting any younger!' snapped Aunt Tribulation.

‘He is still a bit wandering in his wits, ma'am,' Nate explained in a low voice. ‘What he's been through fair shook him up.'

‘What happened?' Penitence inquired anxiously.

‘It was the pink whale, you see.'

Nate glanced towards the captain, who seemed to have gone off into a dream, rocking back and forth, soothed by his chair's familiar creak and the homely things about him.

‘We sighted her about ten days outa New Bedford,'

Nate went on, ‘and, my stars, did she lead us a dance! Round and round about, first north, then south, in the end we was nearer Nantucket than when we first started. At last we came right close to her, closer'n we'd ever been before; lots of the men hadn't rightly believed in her till then, but there she was, sure enough, just about like a great big strawberry ice. Well, Cap'n Casket, he says, “No man goes after her but me,” he says, and he wouldn't let any o' the harpooners go in the boats. Just the one boat was lowered. He said I could be one of the rowers, because I had an eye for detail and a gift for language, and would be able to record the scene.'