Wind Raker - Book IV of The Order of the Air (22 page)

Chapter Ten

D
ouglas trudged up the beach, careful to keep within sight of Miss Lee and Mrs. Sorley, who had the little girls down by the water’s edge. At the entrance to the cove, waves broke over what Miss Lee had said was a coral reef, a welter of foam and turbulence, but inside the cover, the water was calm enough that the babies could kick their way through the water without being knocked over. Miss Lee had waded out knee deep herself, and lifted Dora up and over each incoming wave so that her feet just caught their tops; Mrs. Sorley and Merilee were walking solemnly side by side, Merilee squatting now and then to examine something in the sand. Jimmy was at the dig with Dr. Ballard and Dr. Radke, which had been nice because it meant there was no big brother to tell him what to do, but was kind of too bad now because he didn’t really want to go wading, and Mrs. Sorley had told him in her no-fooling voice that if he ran off by himself he wouldn’t get any cake after supper. He’d seen the cake, and he was going to be good.

He had reached the dry sand above the tide line, where it was harder to walk, and he stopped to take off his shoes, tying the laces together and hanging them around his neck the way he’d seen the Hawaiian boys do. Jimmy disapproved, but Jimmy disapproved of everything, as far as Douglas could tell. He had almost reached the edge of the beach, and he looked back to be sure Mrs. Sorley could still see him. Ahead, a few palm trees straggled on top of the slight rise, casting a bit of shade. He could maybe sit there and read his adventure story, even if he’d read it a hundred times already. If Jimmy hadn’t made him put his allowance in the piggy bank, he’d have had a nickel to buy another one…

There was sudden movement from among the palms, and a skinny figure leaped out at him, pointing a stripped palm frond at him like a sword.

“I am Han Mei-Lan the pirate queen, and you are my prisoner!”

Douglas jumped back, his feet turning in the loose sand, but he managed not to fall. “Well, I’m Frank Hardy and my plane crashed, so I’ll fight you for my freedom!”

The pirate queen grinned at him over her palm frond. She was Chinese like Miss Lee, skinny and barefoot in a faded cotton dress, her hair chin-length with uncompromising bangs cut square across her forehead. “Pick up your sword, then, Frank Hardy! We’ll fight to see who keeps the plane!”

Douglas looked around, and grabbed a palm frond of his own, stripping the pieces of leaf away from the central spine. “No pirate can have my plane!”

“We’ll see about that,” the pirate queen answered, and swung her frond at him. He blocked it, inexpertly, and they clashed fronds back and forth, Douglas fighting to keep his feet as he was driven back into the loose sand, the pirate queen following as though she did this every day. Which she probably did, Douglas thought, and swung low at her bare legs. She probably went to the beach every day and played pirates —

“Emily Han! What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

The pirate queen straightened up, suddenly a girl about his own age, and Douglas dropped his own palm frond as though it burned his hand. One thing he knew for sure was that you weren’t supposed to fight girls even when they attacked first.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Daisy —“

“I told you I needed your help with your cousins. Honestly, Emily!” A Chinese woman about Mrs. Sorley’s age came trudging up the slope, a big umbrella under one arm along with what looked like a picnic basket. She had a boy a little older than Merilee by the hand, and another boy who looked about five was dawdling along behind them. “Paulie, keep up now.”

Paulie ignored her, squatting down to look at a seashell, and the woman gave him a harassed look. “Emily —“

“Please, ma’am,” Douglas said. He had no idea where the courage or the words came from, but he knew he didn’t want to see Emily go away again. “If I help you and Emily get set up, would it be all right if she came to play with me?”

The woman gave him a doubtful look, and Douglas hurried on. “I mean, here on the beach. That’s my stepmother over there, with Miss Lee and my sister and Dora. I could carry the umbrella, ma’am.”

Her mouth twitched up in a reluctant smile. “All right, young man, you may carry the umbrella.”

Douglas took it quickly, balanced it on his shoulder. It was heavier than he’d expected, but he was sure he could manage.

“Emily, bring Paulie, and then you and your new friend can go play.”

“Thank you, Aunt Daisy,” Emily said, and took the older boy firmly by the hand.

They made their way across the beach, Douglas struggling a little with the awkward weight, but at last they reached a spot Emily’s aunt liked. She took the umbrella and shoved it down into the sand, sending Douglas and Emily to collect rocks and bits of coral to wedge it upright, and Douglas straightened from placing the last one to see Miss Lee coming toward them.

“Mrs. Ma! How nice to see you!”

“Ida!” Emily’s aunt looked genuinely happy for the first time since Douglas had met her. “Oh, so this is one of the boys you’re looking after this summer? Your mother told me you had a job.”

“That’s right,” Miss Lee said cheerfully, and put her arm around Douglas’s shoulder. “This is Douglas Patterson, and he’s a pretty good boy.”

“I’m sure he is,” Mrs. Ma answered, but she looked as though she might believe Miss Lee.

“Please can Emily come play with me?” Douglas asked.

Mrs. Ma looked doubtful again. “I need her to help watch the boys —“

“Why don’t you come join us?” Miss Lee said. “I bet Dora and Merilee would like having someone new to play with, and I know it would be a treat for Douglas.”

Douglas crossed his fingers behind his back. He wasn’t exactly sure why he wanted this so much, except that a girl who announced herself as a pirate queen was somebody he definitely wanted to know.

“Well, I suppose,” Mrs. Ma said. “But just for a little while, Emily.”

“Yes, Aunt Daisy,” Emily said, and looked at Douglas. “Race you to the big rock.”

She darted off with the last word, leaving Douglas to flounder after her, slipping in the loose sand. She beat him easily, was sitting on the pocked black rock when he struggled up, scowling.

“No fair, Emily.”

“My name’s Mei-Lan.”

Douglas considered that for a moment. “Ok. Mei-Lan.” The words didn’t sound quite right, not the way she said it, but she didn’t correct him. “But it’s still not fair.”

“Maybe so,” she said, after a moment.

“You still want to play, right?” Douglas gave her a worried look. “You can be the pirate queen, and I’ll be the crashed aviator.”

“I think we should both be pirates,” Emily said.

J
erry moved carefully through the network of trenches and piled fill, sticking as much as possible to the solid ground. He had developed techniques for moving through the actual dig area, but they were slower, and occasionally undignified, and he preferred to avoid them until they were absolutely necessary. Willi saw him coming, and hauled himself up out of the newest trench, coming to meet him so that he didn’t have to negotiate the churned-up ground. It also had the advantage of taking them out of earshot of their crew — expanded today by Jimmy, currently sieving a basket of dirt under Gray’s watchful eye. Beyond them, a trio of Hawaiians were extending the trench, following a line of post holes, Tompkins supervising. Hanson had the Museum’s good camera today, and was methodically photographing an earlier trench. Good practice for him, Jerry thought, but not likely to turn up anything useful.

Willi lit a cigarette, squinting into the sun, and Jerry braced his cane on a more solid piece of ground. “How are the post holes?”

Willi shrugged. “It’s the second largest building site that we’ve found, but it looks very much like every other island longhouse. I don’t think we’re going to find anything different here.”

Jerry lit his own cigarette, cupping his hands against the wind. “I can’t really argue. Though, to play devil’s advocate, you said yourself you were turning up some exceptionally nice tools.”

“Hawaiian tools,” Willi retorted. “Beautiful tapa-cloth smoothers and poi-pounders. Fishhooks of every size and shape. But nothing Chinese.”

“And what about your peculiar terrace?”

Willi shrugged again. “It’s unusual. Not something I’ve seen before in the literature, and, yes, Dr. Buck agrees. But to leap from that to an observatory terrace? I have found nothing that hints at its use.”

“If we were in the Mediterranean, I’d be looking for a temple,” Jerry said. “An altar.”

“And that would be a likely use here, too,” Willi agreed. “But — nothing.”

“I wonder if we need to look at this another way,” Jerry said slowly. “Why would Chinese castaways settle here? Or, more correctly, what would Chinese castaways want in a settlement site?”

“That’s an interesting question,” Willi said, after a moment. “Very interesting. But we have permission — and funding — to dig here.”

“I know.”

“If in fact
Wind Raker
did land here, and if in fact it was in distress, as Mrs. Patton’s story suggests — and those are an appalling number of ‘ifs’ — then they would want a good harbor — a deep harbor, large and deep — and I would think they would maintain a separate camp.”

“In order to re-provision and repair their ship, you mean?”

Willi nodded. “At least that would be my expectation. The Ming Admirals made gifts to the local powers wherever they made port — their intent was to establish diplomatic relations with these foreigners on behalf of the Yung-lo Emperor — and I would assume they would do the same in Polynesia.”

“So what we could be looking at is a chief’s village that received some of those gifts,” Jerry said slowly. “Which means we should be looking somewhere else for more solid evidence of Chinese presence.”

“On the shores of Pearl Harbor, perhaps,” Willi said, “but I cannot see us digging there.”

Jerry grinned. “No. But I wonder — have you ever done any aerial surveying?”

“Not personally. There was talk of it in China, but the logistics were impossible. We used camels and pack mules, and even then we barely had enough fuel for the radio.” Willi narrowed his eyes. “But you have. And you think it would be useful?”

“I think we might find it helpful to see where the
Wind Raker
might have landed,” Jerry answered. “And since we have access to a plane…”

“Your friends would do that for us?”

“They have to test the plane. Flying along the coast is as good a way as any.” Jerry smiled. “It can’t hurt to ask.”

“True enough.” Willi gave a rueful smile. “It’s a pity we don’t have one of those spotter’s cameras from the war.”

Jerry nodded. “But even being able to mark up a map could be helpful. I’ll talk to Al tonight.”

“You should definitely go if she says yes.”

Jerry blinked, startled. “I thought we’d both go. Hanson can take care of things here for a day.” Or maybe Willi was afraid of flying? He forgot sometimes that people were.

“I would like to go,” Willi said, lowering his voice. “But I’m not entirely sure I want to leave things unsupervised for very long.”

“What’s the problem?” Jerry glanced past him, scanning the dig for trouble. The usual fears, the ones he’d learned in Egypt and Persia didn’t seem to apply, he didn’t have a foreign government to worry about or a black market to buy stolen artifacts; Tompkins and the Hawaiians were still working on the trench, and now Hanson was helping Gray go through the spoil, Jimmy watching over his shoulder. “You don’t mind that I brought Jimmy?”

“No, no, he’s done a good job, hasn’t been any trouble. No, it’s Gray.” Willi shook his head. “He cannot shout at the men as though they are farm hands. These are the Museum’s picked men.”

“Which he should know,” Jerry said. He hadn’t seen any sign of that sort of behavior himself. Was he not watching closely enough? Did he need to spend more time in the trenches, difficult as that might be? Or was Gray being careful not to do it when he was around? Or, for that matter, was Willi overreacting, misunderstanding harmless joking? No, Willi’s English was too good for that, and, besides, he was a damn good judge of men. “You should have told me.”

“I am telling you,” Willi answered. “It was not bad enough to say anything until yesterday. So today I had him work with Jimmy, and put Tompkins to extend the trench.”

“I’ll have a word with Hanson,” Jerry said. “Assuming Al can take us. And I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“As will I,” Willi said, and ground out the butt of his cigarette underfoot. “And now — there is the platform to consider.”

“Right.” Jerry put out his own cigarette and followed cautiously across the uneven ground.

T
here was no moment to talk to Alma until after supper when they had retreated to the lanai to enjoy a last drink or cup of coffee in the cooling air. Mitch had turned on the radio in the living room, and the sound of dance music floated softly on the breeze, sweet as syrup. Jerry lit a cigarette and offered the pack to Alma, who shook her head.

“Dr. Radke’s gone to bed?”

“He had some reading he wanted to do.” Jerry rested his hip against the railing, wincing a little as his stump shifted in its socket. He was managing well enough, but the end of the day always left him sore.

“I like him,” Alma said.

Jerry didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I’m glad.”

She glanced sideways at him, her smile full of mischief. “I’m a little sorry we descended on you like this. It doesn’t seem quite fair to deprive you of your privacy.”

“I was afraid we might have to have some of the graduate students living with us,” Jerry answered. “I’d rather it was you.”

“As long as we’re not too overwhelming.”

Jerry shook his head. “We’re fine.” It was only for the summer, anyway. In a few short months, they would each take ship for America and that would be the end of that. That was an unexpectedly bitter thought, and he shoved it away. He would know by then if Alexandria was a possibility: that was the thing to remember, not a summer affair. “I was wondering if you could do us a favor, Al.”