Carley Dawson

“ Added to this, the two chairs—Chris's and Mr. Wicker's—were not more than four feet apart. Chris hunched forward yet a little more to lessen this space and watch for any movement, however swift. He had seen magicians before, he told himself.
But what he saw was so amazing that Chris's lips parted in astonishment and his eyes stared unblinkingly. For the tiny figure of the old man before him, wizened with age and wrinkled past belief, before his eyes shook off not ten or twenty years, but one hundred and fifty! It left him, while not a young man, middle-aged; a vigorous man of forty years. ”

“ The greetings and handshakings; the enveloping hug for Chris and Amos from Becky Boozer, her eyes filled with happy tears and her bonnet trembling with agitation. Her roguish glances and coy giggles flew out like a flock of doves at the sight of swaggering Ned Cilley, who came down the gangplank carrying a macaw in a cage for "Mistress Boozer," and hustled her behind some bales to kiss her warmly. But most of all and best of the day, that first look from Mr. Wicker that spoke more than any gesture or carefully chosen words could have done. He had no need to speak. ”

“ Chris's heart swelled with emotion at the men he was proud to call his friends.
As the gull, he swung up into the air away from the Mirabelle, and began shaking the dust from the open pouch on the sea around the Vulture. By the time the bag was empty, a mist impossible for any helmsman to see through had surrounded the battered ship from stem to stern, and in despite of a freshening wind, was rising steadily to the top of its one remaining mast. ”

“ Then all at once the idea came to Chris. If he was to be a magician, could he make this boy come to life?
The prospect excited him wildly, for he had no companion with whom to laugh and share jokes. Grown people, however gay and kind, were never quite the same. The more he thought of it, the more Chris knew it had to be attempted. He squatted on his haunches, examining the carved wooden figure attentively, and felt convinced that, once alive, the boy would be an ideal and happy companion.
But how did one change inanimate to animate? Chris got up and stole back to Mr. Wicker's door. ”

“ Had it been earlier, Chris could have risen quickly out of sight. But the Jewel Tree was heavy in itself; the earth holding its roots was an additional weight, so that the eagle only rose half as quickly as it had before.
The guard gave a shout, and a spear whistled past Chris's ear. Instantly the flames of bonfires spurted on all the walls, and to his terror Chris found himself in a glare of light as powerful as modern searchlights. He clutched the Jewel Tree, urging the magic bird up, but there are limits even to magic and the bird was moving at the peak of its ability. ”

“ Then Chris would lean on the side of the ship looking at the mountainous or jungled shore. A scent such as comes from the opened door of a hothouse would drift out to sea to the sailors, who looked yearningly toward the land and the greenness. A warm breath of flowers, damp moss, and leaves in the sun would mingle with the rough salt smell of the sea. Chris and Amos imagined to themselves what the forest or the mountainsides would be like if they could only land and investigate them. ”

“ No freeway, no factories. The window looked out over Water Street, skirting the edge of the Potomac banks, and there below Chris's amazed eyes rose a forest of masts and spars of ships at anchor along the shore. Water Street, below him, was swarming with activity, but not the activity that Chris had previously known. Men dressed in the same sort of clothes as those laid out for him pushed at cotton bales, rolled hogsheads along to the docks, or rowed out to ships anchored in midstream. ”

“ The brilliance of the colors, their extravagant and awe-inspiring cloud effects, had taken on an intensity of light which meant they were at their peak.
Standing beside Captain Blizzard on the bridge, Mr. Finney [160] and Amos just beyond, Chris and the Captain looked through Chris's powerful spyglass at the wide stretch of the horizon.
All around lay only the sea and the dazzling sky. Not even a porpoise or flying fish broke the surface of the water which was placid save for the long swells over which the Mirabelle dipped her white sails. ”

“ Tahiti seemed to have been left far behind, for the Vulture was well out to sea, and no smallest cloud on the horizon gave any hint of distant land. The sailors had set the sails and a good breeze filled the black canvas of the pirate ship. The pirates themselves, still surly from having eaten and drunk too well after the fight of the day before, were quarrelsome and tired and lay about in sprawling groups on the deck far below. Looking aft, Chris saw Simon Gosler hobbling from the Captain's cabin, and Osterbridge Hawsey's graceful, overdressed figure outlined in the doorway. ”

“ Claggett Chew threw up an arm to catch on something to steady himself, swayed and closed his sunken eyes. His arm caught the lamp, which, rocking, threw jet shadows as jagged as its light was harsh. Claggett Chew's prominent broken nose, and the deeply grooved lines running down from it to the thin lips under his mustache, changed the cruelty of his face into a brutal mask. To Chris, he scarcely looked human. He was a picture of all that was heartless and evil. But holding to the edge of his bunk, weakened and ill though he was, the power of his will still ruled his body. ”

“ Ned Cilley, with his hand on Amos's shoulder, moved off to point out some detail of the Mirabelle, and Chris and Mr. Wicker were left alone. Mr. Wicker looked down kindly at the boy, but there was a sadness also in his face.
"Perhaps," he said as if to himself, "I have set you too great a task, my poor Christopher, for you are but a boy." He laid his hand on Chris's arm. "You are 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 enjoyments as a laugh at Claggett Chew, or his friend!" ”

“ Are you with me?"
"AYE!" cried the sailors, their faces close together below their captain, and upturned to see him and catch every word. All but Zachary Heigh, Chris noticed. Zachary remained sullen and apart, his arms folded on his chest, taking no part in the enthusiasm of his companions.
"Well and good," roared Captain Blizzard. "I thank you. Now crowd on all the sail she will take, boys, for the Venture follows hard upon us!" [162]
Without a word the men sprang to work, darting up the masts and out over the rigging like monkeys. ”

“ Thrusting the knife into the pouch at his neck, Chris took the shape of a dolphin and plunged deeply, even as the infuriated shark was carried over and beyond him by its own impetus before it could turn. But turn it did, with lightning speed, and Chris knew he had no protection against that murderous underslung jaw racked above and below with deadly teeth.
The shark, in one long powerful movement, had turned and gone under the dolphin, which now raced upward from the dim, lightless depths of the sea to the surface where it hoped to escape. ”

“ Ned Cilley, his eyes winking with anticipation and smacking his lips, attacked the meat pie and the cheese, tarts and pickles, with a will.
"Here—try this," he urged Chris, heaping the boy's plate as lavishly as his own, and the two ate in silence and gusto while Becky stood by with roses and feathers bobbing.
"You must keep your strength up, Ned Cilley," she admonished, "for 'tis a hard life that you lead," she warned him. ”

“ Towing the eagle by its beak, he wandered about. There was neither grass nor flowers; no true plants or trees. All bushes, borders, and shaded walks were of jewels. They gave out onto the air no scent of greenness and no welcoming scent of flowers.
Gee! Chris almost said aloud, Who'd want to play on ground-up gold? Why, except that it's yellow it might as well be gravel. And no trees—not real ones. Gee! She must be a pretty miserable girl! I wonder if birds like the jewel trees?
Looking into shrubs of coral, or jade, or amethyst, Chris found no nests, and shook his head. ”

“ Chris laughed. Ned Cilley, picking his teeth with his habitual ship's nail, was already falling asleep, and Amos, his head on one hand, propped himself up amid a jumble of empty plates. Peacefulness and content lay everywhere in the room, warm as the firelight and as pervasive. ”

“ The parakeet ducked into encircling fingers, Osterbridge Hawsey let out a piercing scream, more of rage than of pain, and opened his hand. The parakeet, liberated, flew straight into the face of the man with the whip, pecking at it with its sharp beak, scratching at it with his pin-like claws, and beating its wings in such confusing fury that the pirate bobbed his head. At the same time the big man stepped backward, throwing up his left arm in an attempt either to catch the bird or drive it off. ”

“ Chris took it off and put it in the long, strong hand of the magician.
"More than that," Mr. Wicker said, putting the pouch in his pocket, "I shall have to take everything from you that you have gained here, Christopher." He paused. "All but one thing which you may choose and keep—one ability." He waited. "Choose well."
Chris looked up at the man he admired and respected and had grown to love, and pondered deeply.
To make a boat or eagle or dolphin out of rope? Very tempting! How the kids would envy him! ”

“ The warehouses were still there. They were the very same, for Chris could make out the winch and tackle he had noticed as he opened the door. But instead of factories, instead of the freeway, the river flickered silver under the moon, and the hulls and masts of countless ships broke the starry sky.
Flabbergasted and breathless, Chris was unaware that he had moved closer to peer out the window in every direction. No electric signs, no lamplit streets. Going as far as the wall to his left and leaning forward, Chris looked up toward M Street. ”

“ His whole appearance, in his sallow yellow vest, gun-gray coat and breeches and canary-colored stockings, was one of mingled power and weakness; strength joined with an unhealthy habit of never being in the sun, and a cruelty best enjoyed when he knew that he could win.
His cold eyes pinned Chris with their gaze as if the boy were a butterfly transfixed by a pin. His thin, pallid lips curled with disdain and yet, Chris thought, uneasiness perhaps, as he eyed the two lads and the little knot of men. ”

“ Now that you have succeeded where I am sure no other could have done as well, I find I have no words of praise good enough for ye." He looked almost tenderly at the tired boy. "I am proud of you, Christopher. You did a man's task with a boy's body and mind. And it took a man's spirit, too."
Without further words the Captain of the Mirabelle held out his pudgy hand to hold Chris's in a steadying grip, and Mr. Finney swung out his hand, his long face breaking into one of the rare smiles Chris was ever to see on it. ”

“ Happen your eyes are sharper than Abner's. Sing out when you spy the reef. We will heave to, and then God be with you, my lad, to find us out the channel to the cove!"
Chris ran forward to the bow of the Mirabelle, and out along the bowsprit where, at the tip, he could see the long [165] form of Abner Cloud stretched out at full length. They murmured a greeting and waited, eyes straining ahead.
Then both saw the phosphorus gleam and fade, gleam and fade as the waves broke over the coral. Eerie jade-green and white-gold, the phosphorus shone in the starlight. ”

“ The boys could hear some of their exclamations, and it was with a mingled feeling of curiosity and uneasiness that Chris recognized the losing gambler to be Simon Gosler, the humpbacked cripple.
"Come now, Gosler!" they heard one of the men cry out in annoyance, "Pay up—you've lost!"
"I've no money to pay you," complained the sly voice of the cripple. "I'm a poor man—well you know it. A cripple—just a poor old cripple!"
"Ah—none o' that!" cut in the second winner. "We know how well you do at your begging—more in a day than we get in a month's pay. ”

“ But the name still showed at the prow, and many a time Chris, safe at home in bed, had sailed imaginary voyages in the Mirabelle. It lay there snug and captured, as if at the bottom of a tropical sea, seen through the glass sides of the bottle, and Chris never tired of looking at it.
But perhaps the coil of rope, so meaningless, so meaningful, held his imagination by an even stronger hold. Why a coil of rope in an antique shop? Who would want it? People bought rope in a hardware store—there was one farther along M Street near the old deserted Lido Theatre. But here, in an antique shop? ”

“ The monkey, clutching the paper to itself, sat on the window ledge stuffing it into the pouch about its neck, and a monkey smile flitted across its face as it heard a final dreaming sound from Osterbridge Hawsey.
"Hm-mm. Hic! Jewels! Hup!" came from Osterbridge Hawsey.
Down the anchor rope scrambled the monkey with the agility and speed for which monkeys are famous. Mr. Wicker was already in the boat.
"How shall it be, sir?" came the low voice of Chris. "Shall I become a beaver and go down and gnaw the rope off at the anchor?" ”

“ As the cripple advanced slowly past the few houses of Water Street, here and there a window was opened and a coin tossed out, which the cripple held his cap for, or grubbed with his filthy hands where he heard it fall. Watching his progress, Chris became fascinated with the accuracy with which the blind man caught the coins or found them in the road. After a passing gentleman on horseback had tossed a silver piece in his direction, the hunchback made off around the corner of the stables beyond Mr. Wicker's garden. ”

“ Windows were lit like fireflies far below him and the series of courtyards opened themselves in seemingly endless duplication. How, he wondered, could he ever find the inner garden—well hidden, certainly—where the Princess of China walked under trees and looked at her goldfish in long clear pools? Then he remembered with a start the folded paper [226] seized so long ago in a ship anchored on the Potomac. A cabin under a smoking lamp, the strong scent of flowers, a monkey's form, came back into his memory and he felt in the leather pouch for Claggett Chew's plan. ”

“ Osterbridge Hawsey, wrapped in a great cloak, was admiring a bolt of muslin that he held, but Claggett Chew, his face shadowed 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 Venture's hull. After a while, as the boys were about to move along, a heavy dropping sound, and the shuddering of the marshy ground, made the two in hiding look at one another in concern.
"What in the world?" Chris murmured. ”