This is a LibriVox recording of Mr. Wicker's Window. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For our information, or on how to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Arthur Piantodosi, Los Angeles, California, February 14th, 2010. Chapter 12 of Mr. Wicker's Window. The time had come when Chris could go out beyond the confines of Mr. Wicker's gardens. It was a bright fall day when Amos and he stepped out the kitchen door. Becky Boozer's huge frame blocked it behind her as she stood in the sun to see them off. Each boy had been given meat and bread, some cakes and apples for their midday meal. And Chris stood looking up and down the street for a moment before starting, savoring the promise of new sights and new adventure. The only drawback was that Amos would not and must not know why Chris might be surprised at certain places. Georgetown in the years 1750 might be new for Amos, but not nearly as new as it would be for Chris. Well, are we going in the first place? Amos asked. Chris had long ago decided. We'll take a look at the mirror bell, he said. While looking about him, Chris glanced more than once at Amos. The colored boy's brilliant foreign costume was very noticeable, his friend thought, but when no one paid attention, Chris decided Amos's clothes were not unfamiliar to the seafaring men at whom on whom they were walking. A chiff had just come in, the sailors brown and cheerful at being once more in their home port. Nurtures and coats of fine but sawn over cloth was chalking with the captain and mate. Chris kept an eye on the cargo being laboriously uploaded by stevedores. For some time Chris and Amos stood watching the men carrying out bales or kegs on their shoulders. When one part of the cargo had been assembled on the dock, an auction was held forthwith to sell it off at once to the highest bidder. Listening and looking, Chris saw bolts of silk, hardware, china, wines, and liquors. Needles and pins, all manner of things auctioned and sold. The ship, American-owned, had come from England and Chris overheard one man say to another, See there, the thin man, that must be Mr Mason's agent. I hear he's here to buy the balespricks for his master's plantation on the island. Chris, not interesting, asked, Balespricks? Please sir, what's that? The man, astonished to be interrupted by a boy and looked down to see two, each with an apple in his hand turned around and after a moment's scrutiny answered. Balespricks? Why, anyone knows that the ease of the bricks brought over the whole of my land should there not be sufficient cargo, both to make bales for the vessel and to sell once here. English bricks are cheaper than those we can make ourselves. Do you not know, young man? He said, frowning with disapproval, that our bricks for building houses will all come from British kilns. No sir, thank you, sir. Chris said and moved away, not in the least abashed. How I should have loved to told him I didn't belong in this age anyway, and then in my time we do make our own bricks, he chuckled to himself. Further on, a ship being painted to dazzling white caught the rise. The Mirabelle! Chris cried, running forward and sure enough, black and gold letters along her prowl pronounced that indeed it was the Mirabelle. I know those lines anywhere, Chris said. Amos and the two boys stood gazing at Mr. Worker's ship. The Mirabelle was a three-masted scooter of more than usually trimmed lines. Even at the dockside, the curve of her bow gave an instant vision of how the waves would curl back as she drove forward over the sea. At the waterline, a clear, light green contrasted well with the weight of her sides. Above decks, the size of the mass and nearly full of old sails showed at a glance that the Mirabelle was hardy enough to weather many a storm, and also that her crew was able and well trained. Looking about, Chris soon spied Ned's ceiling on deck, lounging against the side of the ship and smoking his pipe. Master Silly's eyes lit up as he saw his friends and hurried down the gangplank, shook them by the hand as warmly as if he'd not seen them for a month instead of just the night before. When he had shared with them what Becky churned, a taste, a mere spoonful, of supper. Yeah, well, looky here, it's lame, delighted. Chris and Ned must buy me soul. Ned Silly bottomed at them and let him back on his heels for a better view. Looking about, lads, yeah, that's a wee. Is she not the finest ship that Erria did the rest your eyes on? The boys were agreeing enthusiastically when a remarkable couple came into sight, pacing the decks of the Mirabelle. Soon the watchers were given a better look for the two men came down the gangplank to examine cases that had been brought to the dock for loading, and Chris and Amos were hard put to it not to laugh out loud at the comical pair. The first man was so round and so short he appeared to have no legs at all. Behind low a tight round punch, two small feet looking rather like mice, wet in and out as he walked. The roundness of his face was underlined by three folds of chin, but his small, interesting blue eyes and a way of suddenly opening wide that made for his feel the man was no fool. He constantly burbled with laughter and was in a high good humor, occasional remarks from his opinion, causing him now in the end to chuckle with amusement. What the other man could be saying that was so entertaining, Chris could not imagine for he was the opposite of the fat, good-humored one. The second person was twice again as tall as a plump little fellow beside him and was as dour and thin as the other was cheery and fat. He seemed in a state of perpetual depression and no amount of chuckles on the part of the plump gentle one could cause even a passing smile over the long sad face of the dour man. Who in the world are they? Chris asked of Siley as they drew near. Chris nearly looked at scandalized as Bruce's impertinence in finding them in any way droll. Then, why, bless my cap and buttons. That there's the captain of the Mirabelle, no less. On his first mate, Captain Ezekiel Blizzard, he is and Mr. Elisha Finney. Then Siley told them, watching the ear-nosed conversation, the pair with evident fiction. Blizzard and Finney, that's them, you said. And the better captain and first mate has not come by in the whole land. I shall warrant you. He may look too plump for his own good. Mr. Siley went on lowering his voice and bending it on a level with Chris's name. But believe me, there's no sounder captain afloat. They all know it hereabouts, for Ezekiel Blizzard knows a trainee sees better than sight of his own feet. Make no mistake about it. Ask Mr. Elisha Finney, he's glum. I don't deny, but faithful. That's true of the two of them. Whatever they can do for Mr. Wicker is law for Ezekiel Blizzard and Elisha Finney. They swear by Mr. Wicker, so they do. Ned said, aching his head. Mr. Finney's kind too, Ned went on. Though I don't look it, bless me, cop and boots. He's tender hearted as a bird under that gloom. He's Finney. Could we go aboard the ship, Chris asked, when the captain and Mr. Finney had moved off to the far end of the wharf? No, my lad. He answered gravely. That's better not. Wait till the master do present you proper to the captain, for the mere bell is Captain Blizzard's castle lick. I would sooner you were asked aboard by him. Then seeing Chris's crest fall in face, Siley clapped him so hardly in the back that the boys staggered forward at pace or two.  Ned cried, come, meet some of the crew. He invited and taking Chris's name as arms drew them towards a group of seamen. Chris looked quickly around at the faces of the men. For these he streakly renewed were to be his companions on a long sea voyage soon to start. With a deep sense of relief he found that he liked them all. All perhaps, but one. Then he gave his attention in Ned's silly where the flourish was making introductions. Me lads, he cried. He were two luckily young ones living in the house of Mr. Wicker. You've heard me and we speak of them. The rat and Chris, that's me on the other side. He beamed it both and on the men confronting him. No boys! He roared. This good man here is Bowie.  Stuffing it into his mouth, the knife bladed in all. Chris gave a shipper as the blade went in and it came out. Bowie champed, intendedly asked you. This here's Albert Jones. Something went on. And that one's Abner-Claude. And that one? No, not Ned. That's one's Zachariah-Height. Chris smiled and nodded. Or shook hands and Amos followed suit. But when they had reached Zachary, a tall young man of 18 years or so, Zachary bent his handsome, surly face and fumbled at his shoe. Chris stood there with his hand out feeling the red blood surging angrily up his cheeks and then he wondered who Zachary was looking at from corner of his eye. Chris turned his head and did not have to hear the name buttered by Siley or by Bowie at his back. Chris found himself staring at Claggett. Shoo! End of Chapter 12. Chapter 13 of Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson. This lip-re-box recording is in the public domain. This recording is by Arthur Piantodosi. Claggett shoe possessed a face and bearing not easily forgotten. A giant of a man standing well over three, six feet three, he stood bare-headed in the morning sun. Contrary to the custom of the time, he wore no pigtail at his neck nor even hair caught back tied with a bow. Claggett shoe's head was shaved so close that the pale skin of his skull showed through the peppery stubble making him seem bald.  His nose, over large, to start with, had at some time in his life been broken. Its crooked shape leaned to the right as if still bending beneath the blow that had battered it. A long untrimmed mustache shadowed his mouth and stray hairs caught inside its lips when he opened and closed them. His lip, like his eyes, were pale and his skin sickly as out of a man of seas but little of light.  His whole appearance in his salad-yellow vest, gun-grey coat and breeches and canary-coloured stockings was one of mingled power and weakness, strength joined with an unhealthy habit of never being in the sun an accrualty and best enjoyed when he knew that he could win.  His thin, pallid lips curled with disdain and yet Chris thought uneasiness perhaps of the two lads and little knot of men.  He held at five feet of the whip loosely, caught in his hand against a plated yet other handle and Chris had a nice sensation as he looked at it that it was never far from the large white hand of Clang-a-choo. He held it behind Clang-a-choo examining the scene through a pair of jeweled log nets so it didn't even a weirder figure. Osterbridge-hawsey as his friend Ned Silly as if to himself as he followed the direction of Chris's eyes. Osterbridge-hawsey younger than Clang-a-choo by 20 years to Clang-a-ts 40 was dressed in the French mode anything more out of place on the dirty, swarming docks sound could scarcely have been imagined. His three-cornered hat was rakishly set at an angle on his fair hair which was meticulously rolled and curls above his ears and the curls were caught as his neck with a black velvet ribbon. Beside Clang-a-choo's offensive bare skull the hat in its delicate blue velvet silver braid an airy rim of Osteridge brothers was ludicrous. Osterbridge-hawsey's costume had peace with this hat the hat. First coat was a fine blue velvet of a chidupail a shade for any use outside a drawing room. It too was edged in silver braid and its owner holding a lower cat and with his right hand with his left pushed back the velvet folds to display the delicacy of his flower embroidered lace coat. Satiny breeches a cascade of white lace at his throat lace filling gracefully over all well-kept hands made up the picture as Lucas looked at him fascinated and repelled he noticed that the young man wore a patch in the shape of the present moon on his left cheek. Chris who had been not a little overawed at seeing Clang-a-choo could not restrate himself at the sight of this fob. The touch of fear he had felt looking into the pale expressionist eyes of Mr. Wicker's enemy found relief and release and again control burst of laughter when from his pocket Oxford Bridge haws knee drew his tiny bottle of smelling salts and held it delicately to his nose. Chris's young laughter rose and peel after peel. Amos was warmer quick laugh joined in and in second laughter and spread to the group of seamen who doubled up convulsed fell on one another shoulders as they wiped their eyes and slapped their hard thighs with the roughen hands. The pair stood so amused the rest Clang-a-choo and his fine friend. It stopped some ten feet away at its earth's sounds of mirth. Then into Clang-a-choo's gray white face came astonishment for he was used to creating many impressions, fear, hatred or cringing obscurousnessness. But never before had he or any of his friends been laughed at. Furthermore he, the graded Clang-a-choo and his gaudy friend Austerbridge Hosney were seldom seen so little account that a boy dared laugh at them.  Oh Clang-a-choo this used to be laughing at me. Austerbridge Hosney whined in the high pitched voice. Unfortunately at this moment risk for getting caution in the group after held on to Amos shouting peably he's got a patch in his cheek. What you know if you eat patch. Ha ha ha ha Derision in his voice in spite of his laughter was unmistakable but before he could so much as draw another blacky-curred Clang-a-choo's voice for the first time. So you idea of a snapper let me give you one to match. And quicker than the eye could follow the whip flicked out and with a cutting sting last Chris's cheek that cut from the metal wire was deep almost a Chris's jaw bone but he did not feel hurt as much as he realized his laughter gone. The Clang-a-choo was now his deadly enemy. Next time in Clang-a-choo's sneering voice I shall take an eye from you my laughing boy and see if that abuses us as well. And turning on his heel followed by the sauntering giggling fop the pair picked their way along the wharf and disappeared. It was only then looking around at the sobered silent sailors Chris remembered that Zachary Hite was the only one who would not laugh. End of Chapter 13 Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson Chapter 14 This is LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. This recording is by Arthur Pantadosi Barely were Clang-a-choo and Osterbridge hausie out of sight when Chris simultaneously became aware of two things. One was a deep throwing ache of the whip cut so painful it made him sick and faint. The second was the blank figure of Mr. Wicker. Mr. Wicker was threading his way in and out of the crowds and litter of the wharves and although to most he might have seen leisurely Chris was able to detect in the step of his master a certain haste. He came up to the little group of men glanced to the back of Zachary Hite who was moving away as if on some uninterrupted duty and at Chris's white face in the reddened handkerchief with each Mr. Wicker looked slowly at all the faces and then raised his eyebrows as if in surprise. Well, lads, you said, what has happened here? You all look angry and some frightened it. What occurred, Ned? Yes, the dressing Ned Sealy who's fine face was puckered with sympathy for Chris and so stood pulling at the stocking cap he held in his hands but Chris still got the word Ned could reply. It was my fault, sir. I expect I got what I deserve but it seemed to happen in spite of myself. I laughed at Osterbridge Halsey's beauty patch and at him all of him really we all did like a chew got mad and I guess I wouldn't blame him. It was a dreadful thing to do, to laugh at someone to their face and he lashed out with his whip and gave me a beauty patch. In spite of the pain, Chris managed to grin as he took the handkerchief from his chin to bear the deep cruel cut. Truly, sir, he ended. I never saw anything like Osterbridge Halsey before. He's a tilly. Before they knew it they'd all including even the bitually gray Mr. Wicker burst into another shout of laughter. Mr. Wicker soon stopped however and reached back into the pocket in the flap of his coat tails.  Well, to fortune I haven't adjusted this time, he said casually. And as I have with me such an excellent ointment master and pupil looked at one another for a moment and there was a hint of a wink in Mr. Wicker's right eye and the vestige of an answer from Chris's left. This will help them to stop the bleeding my boy, said Mr. Wicker, and take away the pain. It hastens the cure he went on, lightly applying the ointment to the wound. In an hour he looked scared to know how it had happened, yet included. Seeing the color seep back into Chris's cheeks, the men touched their caps Mr. Wicker and went back to their interrupted tasks. Ned silly with his hands on Amos' shoulder moved off to point some details in the mirror bell when Chris and Mr. Wicker were left alone. Mr. Wicker looked down quietly at the boy, but there was a sadness also in his face. Perhaps, he said as if to himself, I have set you too gay to task my full Christopher for your butter boy. He laid his hand on Chris's arm. You are not a boy, but what lies before you is a man's task and no mistake. You cannot in the future allow yourself the luxury of such childish enjoyment as a laugh and pleasure to all his friends. I know that now, sir, Chris was by unsalomy. Ah, yes, for trouble that time. Yes, there he Mr. Wicker in a tired voice. You did too bad he added and then saw fatigue for the first time in his master's face. Laughter you could not resist has meant that you have came forcibly to clag a choose notice in such a way that you will never be forgotten. Mr. Wicker looked from some distant horizon back to Chris. I saw what was happening while I was in my study, but could not warn you in time, he said. So I came down with the ointment for your poison boon. Poison boon, sir? Whisk whispered suddenly feeling much worse than he had before. Mr. Wicker sighed. Yes, sometimes Mr. Chew was a way of dipping poison onto the tip of his whip. It says his slow poison. It does not take effect for days and weeks. In fact, so long after his ash that no one attributes the whip cut to the death it finally follows. Never fear, he said, smiling in reassurance. The ointment I have put on will take care of that too when your cut will be closed and healed before the day is over. What is unfortunately more lasting said Mr. Wicker. It means Mr. Chew's memory. Well, and Mr. Wicker shoved his shoulders. There's no help for what is done. Cuse caution in the future, Christopher. That is all I ask. I shall, sir. Mr. Jordan, they turn to join Amos.  Be constantly on the alert and look in all directions. Here, he said, putting his hand on his pocket, took these two coins in case you should eat them. Now, find Amos and be off with you. Although Chris would have liked to investigate all the wars and see as many of the vessels as he could, he understood the warning giving in him by Mr. Wicker. So with Amos, he moved away from the scenes he preferred, taking the first road he saw leading off Water Street. Amos Street was, for Chris, completely unrecognizable. It was merely a broad, unpaid road in what seemed at best a country town. Grows of old trees, pasturelands, and orchards of large size surrounded the few houses. It was hard for Chris to realize that it was the core of the capital of the vast and teeming country into which he had been born. It was difficult for the streets where all had different names if they existed at all. Chris looked for his own street. Going back to what he'd known as Water Street, not even the pet boys, or Iron Hours Grill was to be seen. Instead of two wide stone bridges now there was only a rickety one crossing Rock Creek Park. The boy walked to the bank above the park and looked down. The broad asphalt traffic lanes were gone, and so was the tidiness of all park lanes. Below him, Chris saw the tangled thick forests that had always stood there. The creek itself, and it's earlier time, could be plainly heard running over the stones. Chris turned and led Amos to where he half expected to see his mother's house, but where his house would stand in some future year, nothing was to be seen, but a dense grove of trees growing along the top of a little rise of ground. Someone had once built a fire at the corner where his front door would be one day be. Chris typed Ily at the stones. Picked up a metal button blocking by the fire. What are you all looking for? Just something I hoped I'd find, Chris answered, filled with a sense of desolation. Then he made himself remember that the house had not yet been built and aware of the hollowness of his stomach. He said to Amos, it must be lunchtime. Let's go down to the creek to eat. A scramble down the bank, near where and his time, there was a child's playground and weaving in and out of the thick wood found the creek clear and fresh. Here they ate their lunch and then running and leaping followed the turns of the stream nearly near the marshes and the river. Chapter 14 Chapter 15, Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. This recording is by Arthur Piantodosi. The two boys came out toward the mouth of Rock Creek and as the woods thin they saw ahead of them a sandy sloping bank on which a small boat was drawn up. Around the coals of a fire nearby, free men were crouching, remembering Mr. Wicker's warning to be cautious, quit out a hand to touch Amos and the two stood still. Let's climb up a little above them, Chris suggested. We're beyond the bridge. They might be... well, we'd better be careful. I want to see what they're doing before they see us. Amos agreeing, the two boys, with extra care for rattling twigs, moved stealthily up the banks of the Potomac that rose with increasing steepness. The men who were huddled near their fire now came directly into their view below and Chris and Amos could see that they were playing cards. One seemed to be losing to the other two.  They were certainly a villainous looking trio. The boys could hear some of their explanations and was it with a milling feeling of curiosity and uneasiness that Chris recognized the losing gambler to be Simon Gosler, the hunchback cripple? Come on, Gosler! Heard one of the men cry in annoyance, Pee up! You're lost! I've no money to pay you! When playing this sly voice to the cripple, I'm a poor man. Well, you know it. A cripple. Just a poor old cripple. Ah, not a lot! Not a lot in the foot like in Winter. We know how the way that you're doing, you're begging more in a day than we get in a month's pay.   What's about your glass, your spyglass, Gosler? Urged the first man, pulled the odds up and it will cover your losses well enough! He sneered, but time and Gosler hugged his cook to him and looked from side to side, searching for a way of escape. No, no! Good fellows! He mowed not my glass! I won that from the captain himself three years ago, and I shall never part from it willingly. You'd part with those little silver quick enough! Snarled the first gambler. Well, of that you must have plenty to really ever lose!  Either the glass or the silver! You may choose! The two gamblers rose menacingly and moved away to put their boat into the stream. Simon Gosler was wet mumbling and sniveling and fingering his coke pocket in which he kept his glass. Chris watching him and a sudden inspiration whispered Amos, hide here in the old bushes and don't follow me. Don't move or show yourself. I'm going to have that glass. So say he moved carefully back until he was out of sight of Amos. And then, for the first time on his own, he tried his shape choosing a blad fraught stone at the edge of the shrubbery and carefully removed from the sight of the two winners. He changed himself into a silver coin and allowed himself to drop with a sweet metallic ring on the stone. Waiting, winking in the sun for Simon Gosler, the old cripple saw the coin before he had bounced twice on the stone with a sly look over his shoulder at the backs of his companions. As he pushed at the boat, hoisted himself up on his crutch and again hobbling over towards his find. But instead of a coin, he found only a resolute boy waiting him tossing and catching the silver piece. It was one of those Mr. Wicker had given Chris his eyes before. He looked Simon Gosler in the eye. I've heard what went on. Simon Gosler, said Chris his eyes on a level with roomy watering eyes of the cripple. Then he will sell your smiglass to me and I'll buy it off you with this silver piece. Otherwise you shall not have it. Simon Gosler's eyes drew treers of greed at the sight of the coin. Then another expression washed over them. Fast as he was in the movement, Chris was faster. As the old beggar braced himself and brought the head of his crutch down where Chris's head should have been, someone from behind dealt him a staggering blow from his sizable club and yet when he turned around, no one was there. When he faced about again, rubbing his head and whimpering with rage and frustration, he found himself once more facing the boy. It was tossing and catching. Tossing and catching the round silver coin. Chris stood with his legs apart.  His hand did not cease to toss and catch the silver piece.  Yeah, it is. It doesn't feel the same when you get it back as when you give it out, does it, you old faker? Hurry up! Your friends will soon be coming back and I don't think they intend to argue.  Very well, you nasty young man. I'll sell you my glass. Give me the coin!  Oh, no! Chris stood his head decisively. No, indeed!  I'll throw you the coin when I've seen if the glass is worth a silver, mumbling so... Simon Gosler did as he was told. He reached back in his coat pocket to draw out a small spyglass which he laid down on the ground. Then he then backed away. Chris micked up at it and examined the glass, tested it, and then, just as the two gamblers came back up the ripper bag, tossed the silver piece to the beggar. Gosler caught it in midair with the dexterity of years of practice. In an instant, Chris had vanished into the thick shade of the wood and going as fast, but as quickly as he could regain the place where Amos waited for him. Gee, Chris! Amos explained for he had caught all Simon's expression of speech. We got us a spyglass! We sure have! It's a green and it's a fine one, best I ever saw. He said, here, try it out over the river there where that ship is anchored. Amos pointed the glass through the shrubs towards a distant ship that swung an anchor close to the shore and while he tried out their prize, Chris watched the departure of the three gamblers. Gosler evidently paid up while Chris was returning to their hut in Perch. For he was now hustled into the boat by the other two. Soon the three were dired down the stream and their boat was moving up into the main flow of the river. Here, Amos said, that's a neat glass. You look, that's a mighty fine ship out there. Black as a mirror bell is white, but she looks fast and strong, just the same. But Chris, taking a glass, was idly falling in the progress of the three men. Gosler, lost in gloom, sat in his turn, hugging his rags about him. The other two bent their backs to the oars and headed straight for the anchored ship. Turning the glass to the brig, Chris hunted for the name as a prow swung about. Through the glass, the letter his gold on the black painted side clapped to his eye across the distance. Venture, Chris read, and with a beating heart, he saw his adversary ship for the first time. Mr. Wicker's Window, Chapter 15, by Carly Dawson, and Chapter 16 of Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson. This is a LibriVox recording. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Arthur Piantidosi. Come along, Amos.  Chris cried, putting his glass away. Scrawling down, the two boys ran along the stream until it was shallow enough to cross. The water was icy, telling, as well as the turning leaves and cooler air, that fall had come and winter was on the way. Hurrying forward, Chris and Amos reached the mouth of a stream where it joined the river. There on the left bank of Rock Creek, the rushes grew and ranked perfusion on the mushy she land. They rose higher than the heads of the two boys and were too closely packed to allow for easy passage. We'll have to skirt the very edge, Chris said, glancing about. Barefoot would be best.  Keep light against the rushes, Chris wore, Namas, and if a boat show was up coming from the wharves, we'll have to dive into the rushes and hide, just in case it's clagged shoe. That's right!  The two went on making some progress, for the river was deep at that point, with a little foothold between the edge of the jungle of reeds and deep water. Keep an eye out, Amos, quit his cold back over his shoulder as he went ahead. It was no time before Amos' voice came hustling up to his friend, Chris, Chris, hold on! There's a boat with four men in it, just left the last wharf and they're heading this way. Get in those rushes quick, my clothes be mighty bright. Brushing and panting, they shoved their way into the dusty rushes, hoping back until they could barely see the river through the stalks, and it was just in time, for barely were they hidden when they heard carried over the water. The dip and splash of two pairs of oars and a creak of oarlocks. Then in another moment came the high-pitched voice of Osterbridge hustling. This gave a shiver as it reached him. Claggett! In the noise of the bop, who was with Claggett's shoe, who was slipping in the bottom of the boat, Claggett! I found myself quite, quite fatigued. A little whine, I found see, must revive me when we've reached this sheep. He did, I think, and spiced the world of the night chill. And Claggett! Went on the voice, almost upon them now, it was so clear. What do you think of this muslin for my new shirts? Is it not delicate? Irish! C'est l'avent sans dire, I feel sure it would be satisfactory. From Flaggett's shoe, the few boys heard not a word, and they saw the boat shoot by. Osterbridge hazy! Wrapped in a great cloak, was admiring a bolt of muslin that he held, but Claggett's shoe, his face shattered by a hat, was holding his whip upon his knees and glowering at the water. The boat passed, and some time after, the two boys heard from across the water the echo of wood against wood, as the dinghy reached the ventures hull. After a while, as the boys were about to move along, a heavy, drooping sound and the shuddering of the marshy ground made the two in hiding, What in the world? Miss Merman? The sound accompanied by steps, O's, and an arithmetic drop and shudder continued far along the shore, stealthily trying not to shake the rushes and so show what they might be, Chris and Amos pushed through the marsh. The sun was setting as they came near the steps and voices, pushing through the weeds towards the river. Chris found they were near the opposite where the venture floated into the lands island and at a desolate part of the river. Chris gestured and Amos forward and they went on step by step until, in a pause of the thundering drooping sound, they knew themselves to be near its origin and part of the reeds enough to see. There, within a few yards of them and at the edge of a hard beaten track from the main shore lay a mass of cannonballs and shot for guns of various sizes, such as they're used on men of war. They were able to carry but one at a time, kept a line going from shore to pile and this, as they dropped the cannonballs from their shoulders, was the sound of them shaking in the ground the boys had heard and felt. Seeing the red caps and crooked tads of men above the rushes, the boys let the reeds fall back. I'm going to have a look at the ship through the glass. Chris was burdened forward closer to the shore. Parting the stalks in Claggett Shoe's ship. It was a fine, rich vessel, that was evident, and swarming with activity. At this hour of dusk, other boats along the river had stopped their commerce for the day and there were none to observe what Claggett Shoe might be about. Chris and Amos were the only watchers. The cannonballs and ammunition were taken out in boats and hoisted up in nets. Chris observed everything closely and saw still other crewmen disappearing with their burdens down then something caught his eye and he examined the name along the side through the spyglass. Chirious thought Chris that all the letters of the names seemed exact except the second and the third. Among the other letters of card and gilded wood, the E and N were not quite as straight as all the line as the rest. Oh well, Chris thought it's doubtless to see a custom of a time for all I know. In the pocket he rejoined Amos but as he did so, the last two sailors put down their cannonballs and wiped the sweat off their foreheads with their arms. Nian suing the silence, a rustle of the rushes as Chris and Amos moved away were blamed only to be heard. What's that? One man cried out, it's spy there! Yeah, take this club and beat him out we'll catch him. The two men courged into the barge so fast that Chris barely had time to whisper wait, I'll draw them off, I'll meet you where we thwart the stream. Amos safely out of sight, the men came only on a small way dog, foraging for rats, wagging its tail and yawning out a yep-rapper too as it followed Saturn around. Yip, yip! Gave him a kick that, it's only a stray dog! One said and Amos didn't take it what do I care? Answered the other, turning back. The dog lay panning at the rigor's edge looking past the ship as it rested it saw what it thought was snow upon the water and banks but it was just thousands of ducks migrating south and when they rose to move farther away the sky was overcast and thunderous with their wings long after dark, cold, dirty and quite wet the two boys reached the house on Water Street. Where did you go? In Becky inquired, frowning with solicitude at the bedraggle pair. Oh, no place much! As answered, yawning. Mr. Wicker's Window Chapter 16 by Carly Dawson and Mr. Wicker's Window Chapter 17 by Carly Dawson. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. Recording by Arthur Piantosy. The following morning, while Chris was telling Mr. Wicker of the ammunition being loaded on the venture, Becky Boozer announced to visit from Clapton Blizzard in a life shift finny. Show them in, Becky, Mr. Wicker told her. To Chris he said, I wonder what brings them so early? Must be a matter of some importance. Stay with me, Christopher. I shall present you to the captain. The extraordinary pair came in and Chris was introduced to Captain Blizzard and Mr. Finney. Mr. Finney was all smiles except for his eyes. Chris noted that his eyes did not smile at all. Mr. Finney, true to form, cast down his eyes, sighed, and let the corner of his wide, thin lip stoop almost to his chin. When Char, large enough and solid enough, had been found for Captain Blizzard and Becky had brought in a canter of sherry and glasses to be set before the visitors. Chris shut the study door and sat down on the floor where he could observe for him. Mr. Wicker spoke first. Well, Captain, what brings you here so many times? No trouble of any kind, I trust. Captain Blizzard sat down his glass of sherry and clear his throat. Now, sir, needs must have come to unpleasant news and sorrow I am to bring it. I have heard that the vengeance plans to seal it any time, and you well know she is a fast sailing ship. He folded his plump hands over his porch and twinked onto the slums with agitation. Sir, it has been knows about that the vengeance was headed for the West Indies. He paused, but glanced at Mr. Finney, who nodded forlornly, as the earth drooping. That is not so. The Captain looked with anxious eyes at Mr. Wicker. Early this morning, Ned Silye brought me the information that the ventures to sail to the China seas. Mr. Wicker's face was grey, but showed no surprise. I knew some trouble was ahead, he said slowly, but did not know what form it was to take. He paused. News of sailings and destinations get about so rapidly it is much more than likely that someone overheard the destination of the Mirabelle and sailed his knowledge to Captain Chu. Although he added up thoughtfully, I think like a Chu guessed it. Well, and Mr. Wicker looked alertly at the two men. What advice do you give me? Mr. Blizzard had his head. Nay, sir, it was for orders that I came to you. It is for you to say. How soon can the Mirabelle put to sea? Mr. Wicker asked. And the Chris's heart skipped a beat at any time, sir. The Captain at once replied. We have the early wars are enough and quite sufficient stalls. The men are all assembled, and the Captain fell silent, and no one spoke for several minutes. Mr. Wicker leaning his jian on his folded hands was lost and thought, How move the tides? he finally asked, raising his head. The Captain was surprised and briskness for so large a man, pulled some folded charts from his pocket. Without a word the three men rose and went over to the table, pushing aside the china bowl filled with flour to spread the charts flat on the tabletop. Captain Blizzard leaned his knuckles on the boards. The tide would be high at night, he informed them. See, he pointed at his short forefinger in one spot. Here is the sandbar, the tide covers the bowl to short time, and there shall there be other ships crowding the driven near this point, must slip through then, almost at all. Mr. Wicker examined the charts and nodded. Very well, she said, sir, must it be? And Chris felt that his heartbeat would stifle him. It pounded so fast and thickly in his throat. All at once, he looking up and doeth the thoughtful face and asked her, Chris longed to be able to stay safe at home. The imminent journey so far and perhaps so perilous suddenly seemed too much for him. Mr. Wicker had taken the river charts and rolled them up and now turned to the captain first mate. Captain Blizzard knew, Mr. Finney, should not a cast be seen going on board the whole of Georgetown where you mean the sail. I therefore ask you to so contribe it, the cast be hidden in bales or boxes so they can't see anything but what they are. He tapped their old shirts softly in the palm of his hand. Our only chance is to see the march on the venture will be the same as the day before her. The two men listening nodded in agreement. There is one other thing, you're oldest for where you were to anchor, once in China, will be secret and carried on the person of this boy. You lay down here under Chris's shoulder. We have it as a task of utmost secrecy to carry out and will require help, encouragement and silence. Captain Blizzard and Mr. Finney looked solemnly at Chris who looked so solemnly black. Not only that, Mr. Worker went on, but his presence on the ship must not be known until the Maribel as well, it's to see. He glanced down meditatively at Chris. I shall arrange to bring him a ball somehow and give you your sailing orders later. He strode over to the window and looking out to his gardens and the trees where the apple showed their russet cheeks. Leave me these chants for yet a little while and I shall pondle out on our plans, said Mr. Worker. He turned. See that the water casts are taken all at once, Captain and hidden. Make plans for Christopher here. And I'd be seeking love from Percy, I'd even smile. And Amos. No sooner were the Captain Mr. Finney gone than Chris spoke up with great excitement. Mr. Worker, sir, I have a plan. Maybe look at the plan. Master and people spread out the church once more and Chris pointed eagerly. Look, sir. Here is the sandbar and here, you put his finger on, is the venture or she was yesterday. Now, sir, the sandbar ging just below and ahead of the venture. Once the Maribel was slipped by, wouldn't it be too bad if something happened to make the venture drift with the tide and run aground? He looked eagerly up into Mr. Worker's face and saw it in the reflection of his own excitement. And there are times, Christopher said Mr. Worker with his eyes snapping when he was surprised, even me. But how is it to be done? Well, sir, began Chris. It is a little tricky, but I think what with the things we know, it can be worked. He began outlining to his master the details of the plan. End of Chapter Mr. Worker's Window by Carly Dawson. Chapter 18 of Mr. Worker's Window by Carly Dawson. This Liber Vox recording is in the Oblique domain. It's recording by Arthur Piantidosi. It was perhaps as well that Chris had more than enough to think of. Otherwise, the Red Nuncheon leaving home might have been even more distressing than it was. It was a flash, though from his attitude, no one. Certainly not Becky would have guessed that the next morning he would not be there to eat his breakfast in the sunny kitchen window. Amos, Chris, sensed all of Chris's moods, knew something was afoot. When Chris and Mr. Worker finally told him of the sailing plan, Amos's eyes grew rounder than ever and sparkled more brightly, but he said never a word.  Ned and Chris lifted it into the kitchen where, oh, Mr. Worker drew the curtains and held a candle high. The candlelight flickered and inflated up like a trapped bird at the corners of the room, and sharp bird wing shadows caught across Mr. Worker's thick, all dark figure. It's a Chris who was to hold the scene ever after in his memory. Even if that one candle and the figure of his master standing in its center moved Chris as he'd never been touched before. Amos stood near the basket looking first into its square depth filled with shadow and then up inquiring in Mr. Worker, but he did not speak. Be of good health, Amos, Mr. Worker told him kindly. Look after young Christopher as best you can. Then, as a gesture for Mr. Worker, Amos's agog stepped into the hamper where he was certainly his expression half terrified and half delighted. Yes, sir, I will. He piped up, shriveled the assignment. I'll keep my honor. He promised that and curled up in the hamper. Then silly shut down the top and he and Chris lifted it to the cart. Mr. Worker spoke low and it ends here. All is well understood. He inquired. There's no time for misunderstandings. Aye, aye, sir.  Say, Mr. Worker, be on the lookout for this lad, Ned, when you get past the bar. We shall, and whispered back, good luck to the two of you. Clucking to the horse on wheels covered with rags and a gloss about the horse's hooves to deaden their sound, Ned silly in the hamper went quietly up in the direction of the dwarves. In a moment, cart, horse and driver were swallowed up in the denseness of the night. A black night it was indeed. Although there was a moon, the clouds scutted over it and an autumn wind bet the trees tearing the leaves from them. A mist rose from the river, but it was blown away from all but the most sheltered places. Mr. Worker and Chris stood in the silent kitchen. Looking about him, Chris remembered with a pang the first morning he'd seen it with Becky in her gaudy hat standing near the fire. Come on, Christopher, Mr. Worker baited him, taking up his cape black cloak and another one for Chris. First, whine the rope about your waist and once on board, bind it under your shirt, let no one, not even Amos know of it. Chris stood as he was told. Mr. Worker then gave him a leather pouch hung on a cord. He had some old man some magic that may prove then useless, he remarked. Wear them about your neck. So, saying, he slipped the leather cord around over Chris's head. What happens to the rope and pouch when I change my shape, sir? He assasped. They will remain with you, no fear of that. I shouldn't reply. What would be the use of magic if it had proved unable to adjust itself? A smile played over Mr. Worker's face. So, all is ready, he said, glancing around. Now it is to be off and lose no time, for we have much ahead of us, said Mr. Worker, dryly blowing out the kennel. Before he knew it, Chris stood and said, oh, what far off time. Outside Mr. Worker's house, his master locked the door. The winds, whooping down like some great bird, tugged at their cloaks and chilled their faces. Chris led the way to the creek and the marsh, but at this time both he and Mr. Worker wore high boots which kept the icy water and mud from their feet. What I wouldn't give for a flashlight, Miss Mudder, as he came to the marsh. Yes, the twentieth century's convenience, Mr. Worker replied and Chris could imagine behind him a man's sardonic smile and amused eyes. They came out suddenly from the blackness of the woods. The wind tipped with river and through the moon was still obscured. The river held a pallid sheen of its own that gave a little light. It was not a sound to be heard, but the hurried lap of water against the shore.  Chris's heart thudded in his throat as furtive noises, for they could only be made by rats or water snakes and Chris liked neither of these, especially at night. Pushing along the marsh edge and feeling their way, the two figures at last came in sight of their goal. The high dark hull of the venture rose above the water. An amber lantern hanging in her stern. The wind swung the ship and the tide still flowing up to the omen showed that the bow held by the anchor was pointed somewhere upstream. The manker may have dragged, Chris whispered to Mr. Worker, now for our boat. The rope seemed to uncoil from about its waist almost of itself and with the gestures he had been taught, Chris formed a very adequate craft, a little trifle lopsided, it must be admitted, as he had small practice but sea-worthy, unless, I shall see that man sleeps only. Mr. Worker, remember, you do the rest. I shall, sir, Chris agreed, and then the moon showed an edge for the moment in the clouds. Look, sir, the Mirabelle! To know it's sleeping Georgetown, for it was nearly midnight now, whiteness showed itself, closer against the distant wharves, the Mirabelle was edging out and Chris knew that Ned, Bowie, Abner Cloud and the others were floated up by the ship's boats into the main flow of the river. Once turned, she would float noiselessly down the Potomac past the venture, and once he was aboard would voice to her sails and set her course to sea. Then, quick, made Mr. Worker, we took too long, we seemed as if we were a trifle late. They stepped into the boat, each taking an oar with only a few small pulls came alongside the silent venture. They moored their boat to the anchor rope, Mr. Worker torched Chris by wishing him luck and disappeared. For half a second more, Chris waited. No sound came from the ship, but a light showed on the captain's cabin. And in twinkling, a monkey with a pouch about its neck ran up the anchor rope and pausing, or the gun whale, snipped to the pungent flower smell that it now knew meant sleep for all the sailors. Then it bounded toward the light, a window of the cabin on the leeside and left open. Clearing to the piece of ringing before it spread to the sill, the monkey's eyes caught what seemed to be a darker than that of the mist of the night. Moving away from the sailor left on Dyke watch, the man now lay slumbered and sleep. The same heavy stent of spices and flowers that had ever come Chris when he first entered Mr. Worker's shop blew away on the gusty all wind. The ship tugged and strained at her anchor, wind and turning tide making taut the line that held her close to shore. The venture, her rigging in mass scarcely visible, so sombre was the night, lay ominously silent excepting for the murmur of voices from the cabin. I'm abruptly aware of the passing of time and the approaching white cloud on the water that was the mirror bell, the monkey sprang to the side of the open window and peered inside. A smoking lamp hung low over a center table dropping a dusky round glow on the larger circle beneath it. Claggett's shoe was blearily studding a paper spread out before him, leaving his ugly embarrassed skull on one hand. His eyes were bloodshot in an empty wine bottle and glass holding only a wine drag showed he'd been drinking and was now half asleep.   He was saying, is there a plasma? You got a little loony. Oh dear, there he comes. He wasn't playing with the frown. Let me have more wine. Claggett's shoe did not reply nor rise to fetch another bottle. Osterbridge hazy gave another hit on his neck. And Osterbridge again, market it! Claggett, you may forget all those walls to get over or under his side. O dear, think of those jewels. Claggett, don't take these hiccups. He's slain in the fury of annoyance, but made no motion to change his comfortable condition. Claggett! Osterbridge hazy stilled. Are you asleep or angry or hick? Put across where the tree is, I say. I want those jewels, Claggett, and so do you! Hick! Befuddled, his perspectives hopelessly blurred by excessive wine, Claggett's shoe made a mark on a map. There! He growled, his upper lip drawn back of his teeth.  A moving shadow duskiered, and the shadows themselves came through the door and hovered over Osterbridge hazy. Claggett's shoes suddenly started to smell him. He murmured thickly, He's here! Below! White Watchman! He shouted drunkenly as he got up, stumbling and thrashing about in the uncertainty of his movements. His chair crashed on the floor and the monkey made a leap, cupping the lantern from its hook. The light was dashed out, and in the dark as he jumped, the monkey sees the creased well-thumbed paper as he leaped back towards a pale square that was the window. Behind it, Claggett's shoes o'ed the next lineation became bitter as the spicy smell grew stronger.  The monkey clutching a paper to itself sat on the window ledge stuffing it into the pouch about its neck. The monkey's smile flittered and rounded its face as he heard a last dreaming sound from Osterbridge hazy. Heek! Jizz! Boop! Bridge hazy. Down the anchor rope scrambled the monkey with the agility and speed from which monkeys are famous. Mr. Wicker was already in the boat. Oh, how shall we be, sir? Gave him the little voice of Chris.  No, said Mr. Wicker. It can be done more easily than that. Nothing to trace it. Guess in the boat. Here comes the Mirabelle. Tugging his own shape once more, Chris saw the gold sides of the Mirabelle soundlessly passing downstream. Not a creek nor a splash of water came for a mirror as you passed, but from the stirrer and a tiny light, struck by a flit perhaps, blinked once and twice, another third time. Now, you Mr. Wicker's voice and voice, let me have my hand to pull that rope. He only seemed to hold the anchor rope a moment and give it a daisy pull. Tugging a strain was suddenly gone and the venture veered away like a frightened waterfowl. Will she go where she should, sir? Chris wanted to know, leaning forward, that she will, Christopher, in the familiar voice in the dark, and we must get at her out of the way, for he should come as down at us, the wind and the tide, and, hmm, other forces will drive her solidly upon the bar. If I mistake not, it would be several days before they get her off. And on the night air, Verde, Christopher, faint, short, shuckle. Pull bohe, his master told her sharply. Here she comes! Chris grasped the oar, and swung and the boat only in time, for the down-flowing tide and rising wind, combined to drive the venture forward into increasing speed. The tide still being still high, the risk was carried well upon the stand bar before it grounded, lolling over on one side, much like the sleeping sailors. Quick, lad! Now he was casting the mirror-bendle, and you and I must part. Oh, sir! Chris cried, holding his oar above the water, and turning his head toward the man beside him. Mr. Worker clasped Chris on the shoulder, and a glint of moonlight shouldered him to be smiling. I shall miss you too, my lad, he said. Now, let us send this boat over the river as fast as you can go. Bet in mind, keep your own shape at all times, and as you can change it at the sight of crying eyes that he pulled on the oars. Oh, yes, I forgot, and they forgot. Among the effects placed in your cheek as you applied the conch shell holds at your ear, Christopher, as children do to hear the sea. You will be able to hear my voice, if ever you should need to. Oh, like a walkie-talkie, Chris asked, pulling at his oar, somewhat, and Chris knew his master smiled at him. How about getting you to shore, sir? Chris inquired, pulling in rhythm so that the rope boat flew down the black and silver river.  He was asked in return. No, sir, said Chris, feeling a little small. Then undo the digging, and clamber up the sign, for here we are. Said Mr. Worker in the towering hull, the mirror bell rose above them. Chris grasped a rope ladder that hung down beside them to the water's edge, and turned for a last word. I'll do my best, sir, but I hope you'll stay with me. He cried. All that I can, Christopher, came with a western voice. Galt speed. In looking about, Chris made out, coasting at the air. A seagull, floundered upon its black-tipped wings, swallowing a lump in its through throat that proved bothersome. Chris jerked at one oar, and deftly coiled the magic rope over his arm, holding to the ship's ladder on the other. A signal flashed, a lantern swung in an arc, and dim figures waited in their place's hold on the lines. As Chris stopped to the deck over the side, the great white sails rose, spread and bellied out from three masts. Chris looked in wonder at the mirror as the mirror bell, proud as a woman, lifted up her head. Soon on the silent river, only a dwindling sight of lonely sails was to be seen. Heading toward Chesapeake Bay, and then to sea. But anyone with eyesight could not have seen a solitary seagull. Following. End of Chapter 18 of Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson. Chapter 19 of Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson. This LibriBox recording is in the public domain. According to my author, Piantodosi. The long days passed on board the mirror bell. The hours mold majestically passed, it just did the waves through which the mirror bell cut her way. Amos and Christopher were kept out of sight until Mr. Wicker's ship was several days out to sea for the crew, not knowing the success of their voyage dependent on Chris, would have been certainly in the presence of two such young boys on board, useless cargo in their opinion to do nothing about seafaring. But when Chris and Amos appeared under the banner of Stoweways, the chaos considered them full of spunk and welcomed them warmly. Both Chris and Amos found life on a ceiling vessel strange and fascinating, but difficult to get used to. Ned Silly, it was their best friend on board, was a one to whom they turned or whatever his duties gave him free time. However, to Chris's surprise, it was the first mate, sad looking Mr. Finney, would patiently instruct them in sea terms and answer their endless questions. As the days passed and the mirror bell pursued her long course through tropical water, Chris, with many free hours to occupy, last understood how the model, the mirror bell, had been so Spain's tankling arranged inside a bottle. For the time it seemed long between the presence of shore and shore, and there until they sailed for a time along some wild and beautiful traffic coast. Then Chris would lean in on the side of the ship, looking at the mountains or jungle shore. A scent such as comes from the open door of a hot house would drift out to sea to the sailors who looked yearningly toward the land and the greenness. A warm breath of flowers, damp moths and leaves in the sun, would binkle with the rough salt smell of the sea. Chris and Amos imagined themselves what the forest or the mountain sides would be like if they could only land and investigate them. Now and again the small flocks of birds, migrating perhaps, are blown out to sea with land on the mirror bell, and silly made a large cage for some of the sweet singing gaily feathered creatures. And on one occasion when the mirror bell was sailing past Brazil, a flock of butterflies was carried out on a breeze from shore and hung on the rigging until the boys imagined themselves in a blossoming wood. Chris had found his first day at sea, the count shell Mr. Wicker had mentioned, and he alone of all the mirror bells crew knew how to venture it, fared. That first evening in the little cabin was jumped in blizzard given Chris and Amos. Chris had waited impatiently from Amos to sleep. The two boys each had a hammock slung across the cabin by night, which they rolled up and put away to give more room by day. But that first night poor Chris had begun to despair that he would ever hear Mr. Wicker's voice from the shell, for Amos was excited and had no wish to go to sleep. He swung back and forth, happy as a dark bird in his hammock, his round eyes looking toward the porthole where there was the faint gleam of right sea. Chris, Amos said, was sure going on a flat far trip that Mr. Finney, he showed me on a map, but I never heard of any of the places we passed by. The Bahamas, he says to me, then the West Indies, Cuba, Barbados, he was ticking them off on his fingers as he named them, and on to South America, a way down on the tippy end round, what's the name of that loud name, please? Cape Horn. Chris said, he was scarcely listening. Amos tried to prop himself up on his elbow and promptly fell out of the hammock and a flurry of arms and legs and a heavy landing thump that brought a shot of laughter from Chris. After an attempt at making his bed against the instant hammock in some little difficulty and clamoring safely back in again, Amos composed himself with the least possible movement in the swinging bed and naunt. I just remember, he said, where else were going? Wise man islands or solemn islands? You mean Solomon Islands? Chris asked him. Amos gave another money on. That's what I said. Ms. Becky, she read me to me in a Bible about solemn, how wise he was. There was a pause on that way. Amos's voice was becoming an instinct. We'd go past the West Indian Islands next. Chris remember doing this to himself. I remember that. And the sail be sea. His name is Sad Elmer, I'm going to whisper. Some labs just erected something. What I said came Amos's voice. And then at last there was silence in the cabin. He almost got as far as the China Sea. Chris thought to himself and holding to the hammock eased himself out and on bare feet went quietly to a sea chest. Its square bulk stood in the shadow of the wall but fragments of light from the night's sigh. It caught the brass, nail heads and bands upon it so it appeared to wink cheerfully at Chris in the gloom. Slowly to avoid any creaks that might awaken Amos, Chris lifted the lid, thrust in one hand and found the shell. He held it near the small port for a moment. Its rosy interior faded of colour in the grey light. Then he turned it in his hand and put it to his ear. At first he heard only the rustless, stinging sound of surf on a beach. Then the sea sound became fainter and a voice so familiar it that it met home to him, came to Chris's ear as if from a long way off. Christopher, Christopher here I am. Came Mr. Wilk's voice. How are you all going well I hope? Pleased to be doing the favour to tell the captain not to put ashore to the usual place and eat it, but to go by night to a cove he will find twelve leagues further along the coast. I will tell you what to do nearer at that time. You will find ample fresh water near that cove but the ginger is up to mischief. You must escape it, and all on board the mirror bells should be witnesses to what clagged shoe plans to do. The voice faded out and then returned. You will probably like to know how far behind the ventures. She ran aground, most puffed unfortunately and most unsurprisingly. It's three full days behind you, but she has a vast ship and she's soon less than this distance. Pleased to tell the captain so. He is the only one to know of my gifts and it is possible for me to communicate with you. Tell him not to stop for water or food until his toes are running low. You must not waste time. Have you heard me? Tap the inch of the shell three times, I guess. Let's tap three times. Feeling much happier and all at once, not quite so much alone. The voice came back to his ear. I'm falling on progress from this room in a manner you know. Practice your edge of glown or you will lose the knack. Now good night. Oh yes, Becky Bouser has been crying into an apron all day. Partly for Netsily, but I fancy. Chris heard a chuckle from a raral member drum. But I fancy. And I'll give her two boys. Good night, Christopher. Sleep well. End of chapter 19 of Mr. Worker's Window by Carly Dawson. Chapter 20 of Mr. Worker's Window by Carly Dawson. This is a Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. Recording by Arthur Piantodosi. As the Mirabelle sailed farther into tropical seas, Chris and Amos worked out a pattern for their days. Before sunup, while the air was still cool from the night, the two boys were awakened by Netsily or Abner Cloud. They joined the sailors on deck to do their share of chores, mending, rigging, patching sails, shrugging decks, or polishing brass. When the sun rose, the boys breakfasted. The men of Mirabelle then went on with their various tax, but Amos went up to the captain's bridge, where he listened to Mr. Finney and Captain Blizzard. And Chris went down to their cabin for an hour or more. Supposedly, Chris was studying lessons. This was only partially true, for instead of some, he was practicing magic, in which he soon attained a high degree of proficiency. What he most enjoyed was turning himself into some small, commonplace creature to play his friends on board. A mouse one day, flea the next, a fly on the third. Quite naturally, no one suspected his ability to adopt such fantastic disguises. So little did they guess, he had one or two narrow escapes from being swatted or stamped on. With Zachary Hyde, whom Chris wanted to watch, and as a flea or a fly, he often rode about on Zachary's jacket, listening and observing. But it was not until the Mirabelle had rounded Cape Horn one morning that Chris, in the disguise of a fly, rode unnoticed on Zachary's jacket, when this sad, sulky young man. After looking around to make sure the others were all at work, slipped down to the sailors quarters below decks. They already dragged out a sea chest, and from under his belongings pulled out a second chest, fitting a key to the lock. He lifted up the lid. Chris, perched on his shoulder, peered over to see the contents. They were disappointed, eating nearly a gray powder, apparently packed in a piece of tarp line. Wonder why he kept it so dry? Chris pondered. But Zachary was already wee-folding the tarp line and unlocking the lid. In the next moment, he agreed, and over at a length of white coils, then Chris understood. By golly! He explained to himself, dynamite! Or gunpowder! So much! What's it for? Zachary made no other disclosures of interest that day, but after that Chris spent all the time he could, both day and night, watching the young sailor. He was determined to discover if he could what Zachary intended to do with the gunpowder. It was hard for Chris not to be able to ask Mr. Walker's advice and not to have his master's superior knowledge to lean on. And had he known it, it was just this lack which was making him quick-witted and more resourceful. One night, a short time after Zachary's uncovering of the gunpowder, Chris noticed that Zachary remained on deck after the others had gone to bed, and continued to sit with his back to a stanchion, dreamily gazing at the starry sky. Chris was in a fever for image to sleep, which his good friend soon did. Then a grey mouse scuttered along the wane scot of the ship's passageways until it reached a vantage point from which to see the young sailor on deck. Chris had chosen well. A mouse is used to the dark. For several hours Zachary remained still and the mouse dozed, woke with the start, twitched its ears, and waited. Then, long after midnight, when the loan of the entire ship's company, only the helmsman and night watch were awake, Zachary very slowly slid his way to the ladder leading to the hold. The mouse scurrying forward was able to follow by means of a dangling rope but a leap into pitch blackness at the rope's end. The poor mouse hit something and ricocheted off. It lay stunned for a moment or two. A few inches from Zachary's feet, as the sailor stood at the foot of the ladder in the black heavy air of the hold, then Zachary lit a candle handy and brought in his pocket and lifted it up above his head to give the maximum amount of radiance. The glow of the candle stub, like a yellow daisy in a cavern, spread petals of light for only a short distance. By its sputtering, the mouse looked up at the towering figure Zachary now made above it and hearing the sharp squeakings and furtive scratches that signaled rats. The mouse thought it more prudent to adopt the shape of a fly. This Chris did and on Zachary's shoulder, the fly as many fasted his eyes could not see only see everything but see them several times over. And Zachary then put the candle on the corner of the packing case and from under his shirt pulled out the coils of the fuse as had seen him human days before. He took up the candle stub and began a long and patient search, measuring with a length of fuse and hunting for a secure hiding place for the gunpowder. In the end he found a cramped space just big enough for him to slide into made by the shifting of the cargo which had seemed evenly wedged itself firmly forming a curious little cave of barrel sides, crates and heavy bale of cotton over head. Dangerous thought Chris should anything rock the Mirabelle in such a way that the cargo shifted back suddenly to its original tight formation. The hole that a Mirabelle was large, the packing case cave was surrounded by hundreds of pounds of solid cargo. It gave Chris a trap feeling he did not like and he was relieved when Zachary edged and squeezed himself out again into the freer part of the hold. Zachary measured with his fuse from the crate cave where he evidentially intended hiding the gunpowder to the farthest point away from the nearest ladder for the treacherous young man wanted all the time he could get to escape from the doomed Mirabelle. Time to climb the ladder reached the ship's side and perhaps row away to a safe distance. The proof is for the do rather shorter than Zachary height wished. His candle stub set on a crate was burning very low and he had only a few more moments in which that night at any rate designed where he should would light the lighting end of the fuse. Just before the candle went out Zachary's fuse coil reached a group of molasses barrels and here the young man decided that the fuse when the time came would be hidden in lit. He made him work and would chalk behind one of the barrels and then hurriedly began coiling up the fuse as he turned toward the ladder. At that moment the candle in drowned in a pool of its own melted tallow guttered, blinked and went out. The blood or blackness of the hold rushed over Zachary and the fly who clutched the threads in the sailor's coarse shirt. Zachary was only a young boy scarcely older than Chris himself and the fly could almost feel the quickening of Zachary's heartbeat as the sudden flow of dark but sent to the late hour in the rat infested hold. Zachary moved quite eclaid in the pitch black his hands outstretched to feel the latter his breath coming and going rapidly through his parted lips. The heat of the airless place the heavy smells of the cargo itself were pressed in weight on both Zachary and his unsuspecting companion. The mirror bell was moving slowly forward in calm, tropic seas, scarcely making headway on an almost breathless night. Down in the hole the latter eluded Zachary's reaching fingers and the creaking of the ship was all that was to be heard except the faint sound of Zachary's breathing.  For a second there was a space in the creaking of the ship the pad of rats or the slight shift and reshift the boxes. And in that second just as Zachary's fingers touched the latter to Zachary and to Chris's shoulder came the distinct sound of another man's breathing. Mr. Wicker's Window Chapter 20 by Carly Indian Dawson End Chapter 21 in Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording Bialaritha Piantidosi Exhausted as he was by his long vigil in the effort needed to change his shape it was another hour or more before Chris could sleep that night. The sound of that heavy but held back breathing so close to Zachary and himself on the black hole frightened Chris almost more once he was safe in his cabin and hammock than it had at the time.  Even so, Zachary moved none too fast to suit Chris who flew off towards his own cabin and chattering fright. Lumpy form of Amos asleep in his hammock was reassuring but Chris lay shivering and puzzling for a long time before he finally fell asleep. The next day lying on his stomach in the hot sun he does with his cheek on his fold his hands his mind going all for and over the details in the night before. Try as you could Chris could not remember having seen any member of the crew even near the hatch leading to the hold. Let's see he began in his mind a bunch of the men were singing Bowie was one of them. They went down to their quarters first they were really closest to the hatch Mr. Finney called Abner up to the bridge and Abner came back and went down a while later. Guess Mr. Finney went to his quarters I don't remember seeing him cross the deck or come over that way at all. Then let's see after Blizzard took a tour around the deck it was getting dark he joked with the cook at the galley door and probably went on for I didn't see him come by again. Next Ned Silly was relieved at the helm by Elbert Jones who took over. Ned went on down or did he? Chris wringled his brow with concentration. I guess so he thought but I don't know so it looks to me as if it could have been one of several people and I'll be switched if I know who. Well give my eyes up and maybe whoever it was will give himself away somehow and give me a clue. The mirror bell was nearing Tahiti the arrow was balmy and already a different fragrance pervaded and all together of what the softer quality which Chris knew knew meant land. A new one day and day Captain Blizzard announced to Chris Namus should the wind pop as it is now by nightfall or by dawn at the latest we shall sight Tahiti. We've water and fresh stalls to take on there. He beamed over as many chins of the budu boys. Just a fair place it is Tahiti and once you would lads will have an interesting pleasure in seeing. Chris lost no time as soon as he could do it without being noticed and hurrying down to his cabin. Locking the door he took the conch shell from his sea chest and held it to his ear the voice of his friend so far distant now came to his ear and a child's smile with the pleasure this brief linked with home gave him. Nearly at Tahiti my lad came to visit his voice and listened carefully asked for a private interview with the captain and when you're alone with him tell him that these are my orders he is to sail on past his usual anchorage making all speed you will know the reason for it at sundown today Captain Blizzard to cover around the point he will know and continue for 12 leagues farther on must be done by night for he must not slacken then he will see my moonlight reef water is force-for-essent when it breaks over the reef it will shine in the night then early must sieve to when you won't go over the side and as a fish find out the channel for the corner is dangerous and away into the cove almost impossible to find even by day alone there is more like a cup with a chip in its rim the chip is entrance to the cove this entrance overhung by standing trees in jungle is just large enough to haul out for the passage of the Mirabelle nevertheless when on Mr. Worker's voice in the shell the mast and the side of the ship could be seen from the sea so with all haste one zanker to the cove the men must go ashore bring back boat and fronds and leafing branches and camouflage as you were saying in your time the mere fire out from a top nurse mast to the water's edge till the men rest but by mid-afternoon they would have to mide along the shore facing the sea for they shall be weased and was paused then inquired Chris tapped three times his heart thumping with incitement at the prospect of immediate action going up to the captain's cabin he took advantage of a moment when Mr. Finney and Amos were outside to ask Captain Blizzard if he might speak with him alone certainly my boy boomed out the captain his blue eyes abruptly heened and penetrating Mr. Finney wouldn't be some time on deck we cannot be heard in here he motioned to his stool as he let himself fall heavily into a teak work with an armchair or maybe especially for his bulk but Chris was too excited to sit down and delivered his message standing when he described how in the night that very night he realized with the jumping pulse he was to go over the side of the mirror bell and find the channel the captain looked at him piercingly how now lad he said in his deep voice how are you going to find the channel in the dark this was a question Chris was unprepared for but he took a long breath which gave him a moment of extra time and then replied I see uncommonly well at night Captain Sir he said and I'm a very strong swimmer his face froze with nervousness that this might not do as an answer and he stood stiff and still before Captain Blizzard the captain sat forward in his chair looking at him for a long moment considering then he said well I do not care for it I cannot say that I do this ship is more to me than wife or mother or family she's all I have young man and you can understand that I to trust it is so young a lad so clever though you may be to go safely past dragon corner reach into a corner or I never guessed that well he threw out a hand and then rubbed his chin with it you can understand I do not fancy it however and he leaned back in his chair again I take all this from Mr. Wicker the owner of the Mirabelle and since he says so this is how it must be in paused fingering his lower lip looking sideways in a reflective fashion at Chris standing before him he told me you have information for me him for me from time to time we shall say no more but I trust you understand the responsibility you have this ship its cargo in its man you'll be in your hands Chris felt cold for a moment chilled as he'd never been before but he spoke from him firmly yes sir I think I can do it safely or I should not try sir Captain Blizzard's round pink face creased in its winning smile aye aye no doubt just bear it in mind at the time eh lad I shall sir Chris replied he then went on to describe what else was to follow the covering of the ship with leaves to make it blend with its surroundings camouflage was not a word the captain or anyone else of his time yet understood after we see whatever it we are to see Chris ended all the absent for a while what could be said during that time sir Chris thought to ask Captain Blizzard pondered for some minutes and Chris was grateful to it that he asked no questions lasting answer I shall say that you have a tropical fever Christopher he said I am somewhat skilled in medicaments I have to be as a captain of a ship and the crew know it I shall say that you are in my own cabin so that I can care for you I shall allow no other to enter it but myself it will be a most contagious fever for a time he added as eyes twinkling I shall bring your food with my own hands nothing much all than gruel my dare say I can eat it myself if I cannot throw it out at the portal incorrect prince have no fear on that school Christopher you look steadily at the boy in front of him you'll feel part the carrot I have mine not since he had left Mr. Wicker and Chris felt such confidence as he did in the words and actions of Captain Blizzard he knew now that his absence for as long as he had to be away would be covered up and satisfactorily accounted for their conversation had taken some little while as they went over for the last time all the details of what lay ahead of them in the next few hours Chris glancing out the windows of the captain's cabin saw the splendors of a tropical sun set streaking the sky oh sir he cried Mr. Wicker said we'd know the reason why my mosaic shelter tomorrow would sundown today and now it is sundown with quite surprising silence and agility for so large a man Captain Blizzard was out of his chair and halfway to the door of his cabin before Chris it's much more than finished speaking over his shoulder continuing with rapid quiet steps the bridge of the mirror bell he said run down to your cabin and fetch up that night good spyglass of yours my boy wish you'll have a good look for as you know night falls and a few moments after sun down in these waters racing to his cabin and back even in those few seconds Chris could see a change in the sky the brilliance of the colors the air and extravagant and awe inspiring cloud effects had taken on the intensity of light which meant they were at their peak standing beside Captain Blizzard on the bridge Mr. Fitting and Amos just beyond as the captain looked through Chris's powerful spyglass the wide stretch of the horizon all around they only to see in the dazzling sky not even a porpoise or flying fish broke the surface of the water which was placid safer long swells over which the mirror bell dipped her white sails the color ebbed from the skies have drained from some celestial bowl and in the place of scarlets and turquoise the clear yellows and the plums came a deep blue that was the forerunner of a fine clear night Chris turned slowly his glass to his eyes searching the edge of what was now their world and especially the line where the sea and sky meet all at once as if a white dagger had stabbed the rid of the ocean white sails grew upward against the encroaching night and Chris found what he'd been searching for there sir he cried pointing at the distance and captain and mr finney swung their glasses to where his finger led far astern of the mirror bell left him blizzard's round cheerful face heartened as he looked and mr finney's glorious continent seemed positively despairing while we always swapped on one thing out trying live me look through your glass what do you see what does it y'all see it was captain blizzard who answered him we see the venture aimless cag at shul's ship coming up fast as soon and it says a little pray the wind holds mr wicker's window chapter 21 by carlie dawson and chapter 22 mr wicker's window by carlie dawson this is a livervox recording all livervox recordings are in the public domain recording by arthur pianitodosi the captain turning quickly barrel load for all hands to come on deck when they were assembled below and we spoke men will forward me for many a voyage and i've always brought you safely home is it not so a good humor and enthusiastic roar of assent came from the sailors captain blizzard began again what lies ahead of us in the next few hours will not make good sense to many of you nevertheless i ask for your instant help and you shall see what lies at the end of my oldest when we reach that time are you with me i cried the sailors their faces close together below their captain and upturned to see him and catch every word all but zachery height was known as zachery main sullen and depart his arms folded on his chest taking no part in the enthusiasm his companions when i'm good the gourd captain blizzard i thank you now crowd all sales you will take boys with a bench of varros hard upon us without a word the men sprang to work darting up the mass and out over the rigging like monkeys every bit of sail the mirabelle possessed bellied out on night breeze and chris could feel the ship leap under his feet as the additional canvas caught the wind and the dracimal ship surged forward night fell before the men had finished and chris and captain could no longer see the sails of clagget shoes venture the captain turned to chris which made my advice land to go below and sleep for a bit you too amus i shall send ned to awake you and land incited this seemed good reasoning and the two boys went below and they snatched a few hours sleep it seemed only a minute to chris from the time he laid down in his hammock knowing he was too excited to sleep until a ned silly was it inside at the lantern bringing food for amus and himself bust eat up lads ned told them and joined the captain says he to me for a land is just ahead and the captain do be waiting on the bridge food was bolted down in no time and chris feeling fresh and alert ran up to the warm darkness of the bridge to a surprise the usual lanterns were not lit only a small shaded light shed its rays on the compass near the wheel and it's questioning look captain was about to impossible to tell now how close the bear in the venture may be we have come quickly but they have the fastest ship i no wish to give them all clue with the necessary as to where we may be he looked kingly toward the bow his hands clasped behind his back land is off the scabbard cauldron and the clan is out on the brow sprit looking for the reef we passed our anchorage they expected us on some other ship but pies really don't show sail has been taken in we are going slowly and will soon be there by my reckoning his eyes grown used to the dark chris now saw that it was a remarkably light night there was no moon but a myriad of stars gave a clear pallid sheen to the sea chris looking to his left could make out the blackermass against the stars that was Tahiti the mirabelle was close in shore and the scent of hot sand from the beaches or flowers and plants made chris take many great vital breaths may it go and be with abner he asked the captain i eaten by that good man for by this time chris was as sure footed as any sailor and for the last month more had been clambering barefoot in the rigging with the best of them island ripped and told him and hurry happen your eyes are sharper than abner's sing out when you spy the reef we will heave to and then gulp it with your nightland to find us out the channel to the cove chris ran forward to the bow of the mirabelle and out long the myosprit where at the tip he could see the long form of abner cloud stretched out at full length and waited iron straining ahead they both and both saw this boss for a gleam and fade gleam and fade as the waves broke over the coral irie jade green and white gold the phosphorous shaw in the starlight reef ho sang out abner and the shot of his shout was echoed back from the closest of the shore and a dangerous mockery reef ho reef ho came at third time at the bridge and then heave ho under that and was it drop anchor lads abner left his place to go back and lend a hand and in sun solitude gris grasped a rope and swung down to the water a porpoise slipped away from the mirabelle and moved this way and that to get its bearings then the mass of the reef to the left and the hidden shelf of a second but obscured underwater reef to the right made dark patches in the phosphorescence far below lay the ghostly spread of sand and the porpoise nosed its way forward the channel to the cove proved to be some 500 yards long it seemed no time before the porpoise passed from the shadow of the trees of the shore into the starlit cup of the cove taking a turn about in the enjoyment of flipping its fins and getting a leap or two the big fish then went back towards where the mirabelle hung suspended on the glassy sea a boy it was that pulled himself up hand over hand along the anchor rope and stood dripping seawater on the bridge before captain blizzard i found the channel sir he said abruptly conscious of his importance from the admiring way and which seamus was staring at him there's a dangerous shelf of cornel that shuts it out on the port side if you let me go first and the men man the boats and row her in and i think we shall do it safely even in this light captain blizzard looked at him his expression was serious and trusting well that we do what we must and you and i on the stand eat on another ahoy there you roar down to the shadowy decks from which the black spikes of mass rose high to break the sky man the boats we shall tow the mirabelle to cover for there's a channel here he turned to chris as the sound of running feet and of the boats being hoisted overboard came loudly in the stillness of night now chris for my boy do you go down and go over the side again and remember what we spoke of a few hours ago the next half hour was an exhausting one for poor chris it was an impossibility for him to keep for long in a time either his own or the shape of the porpoise he had to enter the water under the eyes of the sailors waiting with their oars poised above the sea in the shape they knew chris defer mason but once he dived under in order to seek out the treacherous channel in the half light he needed his fishes eyes and senses he therefore would swim a few yards as a fish but had to surface again as himself in order to let the men see again and call well length of two boats keeping a starboard boys the knees are over this way to port so it went almost foot by foot until the mirror bell was safe inside the cove and turned broadside to the entrance then and only then with the anchor safely dropped to the white sandy depths of this hidden harbor did chris tired to his very bones climb up the ladder and over the ship's side there remained the claima flogging of the mirror bell for the stars were feigning and before long dawn banished secrecy but captain blizzard and Mr. Finney waited chris on deck captain blizzard had his hands clasped behind his back at an habitual gesture and as chris stood before him swaying with fatigue there was a look on the captain's face that chris had never seen there before the usually cheerful joking man was grave well mr. finney so sober and forlorn as a rule looked positively jubilant my good lad the captain said you said you could do it but truth to tell I doubted it from the bottom of my heart now that you have succeeded where I am sure no other could have done it as well I find I have no words praise good enough for you he looked almost tenderly at the tired boy I am proud of you christopher you would do to man's task with a man always body and mind and it took man's spirit too without further words the captain of the mirror bell held out his pudgy hand to hold chris's in a steadying grip and mr. finney swung out his hand to his long face breaking into one of the where smiles chris was ever to see on it now me boy under the captain do you would go to your weller deserved rest depend upon it me shall cover the ship with green until she looks like the perverbial christmas wool deck with bower of holly as the song goes he had it chuckling a little later in the day you should be called to see what you would make of the result and now to bed with your boat and clapped aimus on the back never his hammock was seen more like a cloud to chris than it did on that night nor was sleep ever more engulfing mr. wicker's window chapter 22 end chapter 23 of mr. wicker's window by carlie dawson this little silver box recording is in the public domain recording by arthur pietz dosi when chris awoke he saw that aimus had already stolen out of the cabin for his hammock was rolled up and put away by the strength of the sun and the heat that seeped even through the boards of the ship chris judged that the morning was well advanced dressing was rapid for chris like the rest of the sailors in the tropic heat or only his breeches his bare chest and shoulders were tan and healthy and the soles of his bare feet as tough as shoe leather running up to the bridge he was startled at first at coming on deck at the sudden green shade everywhere then looking up he saw that to their very peaks the mass and rigging of the mirror bell had been hidden with palm fronds that side of the ship that could not be seen from the sea through the narrow channel entrance had been completely covered with green the work was not yet finished but most of the crew were sleeping during the hot hours while head full and teared to pull and fleet the job the cove by daylight was even lovelier than it had seen by starlight the night before the deep water with a bass of coral sand flashed an emerald turquoise or sapphire blue its clarity and sparkling colors put the jewel train to chris's head and he had a moment's trauma fright when he realized that it was this very night that he must bore the venture to impede her progress toward the chinese prize he put those thoughts from his mind until the time came and decided to tackle what was most pressing the most urgent matter that first claimed his attention was breakfast and when he reached the bridge she was delighted to see fruits from the island piled in shady corners the ease and bread and cheese made up his meal which he ate while watching the final leaves and fronds put in place on the sides of the mural bell captain blizzard came up to him his hands clasped behind his back and nodded toward the men pulling themselves slowly over the ship's side and falling exhausted into the shade to sleep for a few hours they will be freshened off in a while he said and then we shall want an old row of shore to see what we shall see he paused and chris looking up saw that the captain's gaze was stunned zachery height zachery was obviously not only far from sleeping but was restless jumping up to look out to sea and then sitting down again it would be only a few minutes more before he would jump up once more to pace the deck or lean at the ship's rail it won't seem the captain said casually that zachery has something on his mind Mr. Finney joined chris and the captain at the moment and looking down at zachery nodded his long sad face and luprius agreement chris opened his mouth to say something to the captain of what he had seen zachery doing before the words couldn't leave his mouth he was interrupted by the appearance of red-faced and silly chur fills his sand flee at the prospect of going ashore and had it come down from his rest with the small company of the sailors to ask permission of the captain if they might leave the ship well why not the captain demanded and why not take them all with the rest too we were all old to go ashore presently in any case those who still want to sleep can do so even more comfortably on the sandy shade under the palms so in an instant the decks of the mirror bell were crowded laughing jostling men duties over for that day tumbling down the letters to the dingies in which they rode ashore chris and amus were shoved along with their friends chris hiking up his breeches to cover the coil of the magic rope around his waist the leather in bag hanging in plain sight about his neck the sailors often teased him about it saying that he kept his riches there but they made no attempt to snatch it from him there had been no time to warn the captain but as the last boatload of sailors looked into shallow water and scattered under the shade of the trees chris searched and searched again for three faces among the crowd that he did not find zachary height the captain and mr finney were not to be found aghast as he realized now that what zachary's plan was to blow up the mirror bell just as the venture in its crew came near enough to shoot down the unarmed men chris rushed back to the water's edge and stood there hesitating the powerful sun how could he change himself to a fish or other shape unobserved the sailors from the mirror bell were everywhere in the thickets for the shade as well as along the edge of the cove where he now stood indecisive to use a rump was just as impossible for the beach was broad and chris was acutely aware that he stood out like a single tree in a field there in the white sand in the broiling sun but it came out of that sun crest someone called to him there's too much of heat in it to be good for unkin heads chris knew the voice of the sailor was right and it was on the point of jumping into one of the dingings where they lay pulled up on the beach far out on the cove the decks of the mirror bell were deserted and unlike themselves so empty of life sweat started out on chris's forehead as he imagined zachary in the hole lighting a fuse and he wondered where the good captain and mr finney might be he wondered too if he could row over in time or if he would be blown up with a ship the boy had his hand on the scorching wood of it digging his muscles tensed thrusted into the waters of a cove went out with a still harbor jangling and heat came the prolonged and piercing scream hot as he was chris felt himself go cold at the sound he knew instantly though he'd never heard it before that this was the death cry of a man the scream came a second time terrifying and despairing and out over the water followed it it came in low scattered rumble crush silence fell for several frozen seconds and then it all at once chris had became aware that as he stood rigid with horror by the boat that the serials of the mirror bell had rushed out from the coolness of the shore the sand stiff and appalled beside him a babble of voices broke out and one by one the boats were hastily launched heading back to the ship and even chris shaking and nerved on the sand over the water as brawny backs bent to the oars the words came flowing back silence did for certain sure who was left on board you see leave the lads no sight for youngins pull you lazy lovers the captain is to finish being demolished it was a little later that chris remembered aimis having taken his arm and led him into the shade and of how sick he was the heat and the scream and the fear and the sense of having failed and warning a captain combined to churn his insides into a queasy place and violently rejected his pleasant breakfast of so short a time before then weak but somehow feeling better a chris lay in a pool where gel aimis found a cool pool of water with which he bathed his friend's face and then sat fanning and without a word chris must aist of doze for when he came to himself the light had changed and men were carrying a sheepless bundle wrapped in canvas to a grave dug in the sand chris started up and joined the men gathered solemnly about the grave and as he searched among them knew a great sense of relief and joy when he saw standing at the grave head the captain and Mr. Finney as chris came up to them ebbed and blizzard was speaking a bible in his hand men of the Mirabel by rights as captain of his the Eselai should write you the burial service for Zachary Heights who had made his death by accident boxes and crates killing him in the hell all the way they did but and the captain scanned the tough weather beaten phases near him so they one by one you that helped to uncover him knew what he needed to do we harboured a viper the men who meant to destroy our ship in cargo and leave us to who knows what fate and not the bung of that cake of molasses above the lighted fuse most providentially fallen out and the fuse been put out by the sura no doubt neither for the Finney nor I nor the Mirabel would be here to tell the tale he paused again and there was not a stirrer from their audience from under their dirty handkerchiefs or straggly unkept hair the men who knew no other life but the sea no happiness or danger unconnected with it never took their eyes on the clear captain so men didn't blizzard removed the gunpowder that was meant to be the end of our fine ship is now safe and that is harm's way the traitor who intended this infamous deed has been dealt with by fate and killed in a tomb of his own finding therefore feeling as I do for my ship and my men I cannot bring myself to read the holy words of this man who had no charity in his heart captain blizzard handed the bible to Ned Cillian stood with his hands behind him gnawing his head as if to stress his words yet he said he is being buried far from home and kith or kin it is not proper that she should be left without even a token of respect he gestured with his plump hand to the bible to go settle among ourselves who shall do the reading but pardon me that I am so small a man that I cannot forgive a villain so saying he turns though the away followed by Mr. Finney more than usual silver and calm unto the dry clatter of palm fronds rose the voice of Ned Cillian laborsly muting I am the resurrection in the life but chris watching the disappearing backs of the captain and first mate with sinking what a curious and fortunate thing it was that the bales had fallen on Zachary just at the right time and when there was not a ripple on the cove chris watched the fat short man and the tall Lee one go resolution and anger still evident in the in the set of their shoulders the boy was thoughtful thinking back over what Ned had said of them that first day on the docks fearful you seem to hear Ned say that's true the two of them would say but they can do for Mr. Rooker's law for the life of Finney and Captain Blizzard chris taught them two very remarkable men indeed end of chapter 23 chapter 24 of Mr. Rooker's window by Carly Dawson this LibriVox recording is in the public domain this recording is by Arthur Piantidosi barely were the last spade fulls of sand packed down into Zachary Heights grave when Amos who had wandered to the beach facing the sea and out along Andrew's short line sang out ship ah remembering their orders the men rushed over from the cove but remained hidden behind trees or shrubs Chris and Amos climbed a tree from who was branches they had a fine and destructive view up and down the coast to the left far distant a point of land jutted out into the sea tropical trees carrying their green out in a long curve to the right just appearing the direction in which they themselves had come a few hours previously came a majestic ship black from stem to stern black was its hull but black too were its sails he looked at seeding the ominous on the afternoon blue of the sea and as it came almost level with the channels of the cove its sails were lowered and the watchers on shore could hear the splash of the anchor as it was heaved overboard the net-silling oldest of the Mirabelle sailors came panning up from the cove in Zachary's grave to look out from the leaves at the base of the boy's tree oh lordy lordy he exclaimed when he caught sight of the black ship the last for some for sails being taken in what did I tell you lads he cried announcing anyone near enough to hear him that be the black vulture the pirate ship no vessel is safe near the black vulture what a good mercy did all of us and the Mirabelle are out to sight for the men about the vulture no no pity lads growls and murmurs rumbled along the shore from clump to clump of leaves were the men stood hidden chris pulled a spyglass from his pocket and looked eagerly at the pirate ship only a little ways out from shore he looked familiar although chris had had time to see so few ships he could not be certain he shifted the glass looking at details here and there and at the name on gold-clard letters against the black painted sign vulture the letters stood out neat and clear and then his heart stopped and started again Ned he called down softly for sound curious far and clearly over water as every sailor knows Ned don't those ships just paint the sign on the side I lot thought they do Ned replied in a puzzled tone looking up through the leaves of the two boys it isn't unusual to have letters carved wood and gilded on the side of a ship chris persisted I thought it be Ned's puzzled tone was sharper now and he looked up at chris and then out to the pirate vessel what don't you aim and out no Milady Ned asked what's on your mind just tell me what ships you know whose name is not painted on but set in carved letters Ned chris said and he lowered his glass and looked down their conversation in the silence had had some quality of excitement in it that had been caught up by the others for when glanced down he saw half the ship's company knotted around the base of the tree and a half circle of faces turned up to his along with Ned's Ned's face puckered with effort for a few months and then as he muttered what must see you know there's the southern no that's painted on or the tricillin through no that's painted too he turned searching the faces of his friends come boys what ship has carved letters for its name not painted ones what is a better memory than our mind the captain and Mr. Finney came to join the crowd standing back in the shadow of the palm grove both men were listening attentively it was Buoy who finally spoke up slowly as if unwillingly there's only one ship on that ever I did see with carved letters on their side and that was Chul's ship the venture he was surrounded once by a low murmur of his scent from all sides aye aye but so to so chris from his higher perch pointed an accusing finger out to sea look then for there's your same ship the venture and the vulture are one in the same here take my glass he cried handing it down see the two lit second letters they're just a bit of slant weeks ago at home I thought it seemed strange that the E and the N looked loose but loose they are once at sea they're changed bolted in maybe I don't know how and there's your merchant ship at home and pirate ship at sea the men turned wondering but angrily too for the membranes of Zachary Hite tried to do and so nearly succeeded in and rankled and they now began to understand many things voices began to rise dangerously high on the growing youth feeling ah the dirty dog and his friend with the heirs have we been hard on them or in the like of them at home aye to let them go free to settle the next rain ship take all their cargo leave our valiant men to drown the captain came forward his hands upraised how now men be still we are here to see what may take place but if your voices would carry as well they may over the water we should have a different chance of it do as you you be still and watchful a little cry from Amos who had sitting there taking his eyes from the sea look around the point another ship looks like she is what with the old blackbow was waiting for sure enough that the refined white sails of a good sized vessel made its way around the point of land distant shouts and confusion could be heard on the vulture looking through his glass which he had led to Amos every few moments Chris could stake out scuttering figures on the deck of the pirate ship men springing up to the ringing and others walking up the anchor as quickly as they could on the bridge Chris could see the tall gaunt light of claggett shoe the humpbacked figure of Simon Gossler stood rubbing his hands at one side of his master while on the other observing the work of the sailors with the super sumious air leaned a familiar and ridiculous figure dressed as if it were for a court ball and for Gersai and holding his log net a few inches from his nose Osterbridge hausie remained eloquently aloof from anything so degrading as hard work he looked on with a superior smile as the black sails were unfurled the anchor was heaved dripping from its bed and the hard pressed dirty crew made all speed to go in advance of the oncoming ship still others among the pirates could be plainly be seen mining the guns they've already been brought out from the hiding places while still more stood by to furnish their comrades with cannonballs and powder Amos became so excited and he leaned too far forward and nothing leaned from his difficulties with his hammock fell out of the tree onto the heads and shoulders of the men below causing astonishment and swallowed laughter before he was hosted back up again bless my cop and buttons instantly cried there's a fate for certain I can see the flash of light on the swords and axes quicker than it would like to tell the vulture black sails spread moved forward to head off the merchantman and evidently home were bound from China the pirate ship sail back the coast turned and forced the oncoming vessel to stop and then as well as the watchers could guess a parley ensued but if the pirates thought the prey would be an easy one they were mistaken for the merchant came forward suddenly all sails set in an effort to ram the vulture but the rich cargo vessel was hopelessly at a disadvantage the pirate guns opened fire ropes were thrown over to the peaceful ship and with the elves of triumph that carried even Amos the tumult of the fighting the pirate crew would be upped on board tiny figures could be seen falling into the water from the merchantman in a bitter hour or so the sound of fighting died out altogether the men watching from the shore had been kept there only by the obedience the captain was able to extract from them for rage was in the heart of every man at the sight they were forced to see but were powerless to prevent even among such hard bitten old salts as they all were more than one could be seen mumbling a prayer for suddenly unfortunate men who would put up such a gallant fight come lads not in a blizzard tend to them at last we have seen what we have to see and many is now against Kragatshu and all his company aye aye that's what we are little better witnesses such villainy they should all hang for it the elves just cried let's go back to our own ship for the dreaded vulture is not yet gone and unarmed as we too are what chance are we against cannonballs and our men the men turned about and trooped back to the dingies while captain blizzard stayed behind a moment to speak to chris my boy he said his hand is on Dris's shoulder in front of them in the late afternoon light the men of the mirror bell made their way back to the ship here's my advice you at best return with us now while you might be missed by one or another of the men they have much time to think you shall do what has been said for you to do we shall say here another day to take on water and fresh fruits he looked smiling day down at chris but his eyes were concerned it will not be a moment too soon for me until I see you safe and sound on board again my lad he said for I like you well and would have no smallest harm come to you together they went down to the beach and they were eating dingy chris dared not look at the sea eye above them for he knew dark was darkening it and with the night he must leave end of chapter 24