The Happy Mariners (14 page)

‘Only between the half-hours, my dear. I never neglect my duty.'

‘But,' said Martin, ‘supposing I were to shout for you just when you had to call the hours?'

‘Duty first,' answered Aunt Cuckoo. ‘You mustn't call on me except between times, or you'll call in vain.'

‘But we haven't got a clock, not any of us,' objected Martin.

Aunt Cuckoo ignored his remark. ‘Now don't talk any more, Martin. Just remember what I've told you. In a little while I must go out and call half-past two, and so much depends on me, my dear, that it makes me quite nervous. For if I were to stop, or do it wrong, don't you see, there'd be no more time in the whole world. No time for anything—just think of that. So keep quiet,' she implored him, though Martin hadn't made a sound, ‘and let me calm myself with a few minutes' meditation. And when the doors open you can slip out.'

That time of waiting passed so slowly that when at last the doors opened Martin ran out into the street without even saying good-bye. He had not yet lost hope of finding Fandy, and something told him, as he approached the next house, that he was on the right scent this time. In his hurry he didn't even stop to look at the name on the door; he tapped on the door, a girl's voice answered ‘Come in!', and the next moment he was inside, in a shabby little room that contained two rush-bottomed chairs, a rickety table, a sofa out of which the stuffing was falling in handfuls, a yellow cat, and the most beautiful girl in the world, a slim dark one with a voice that made
you want her to talk for ever. Not that Martin cared for girls (except Elizabeth, who, being his sister, could hardly be called a girl), but she certainly was pretty, there was no denying it. She was so pretty that Martin could hardly take his eyes off her, and didn't until the yellow cat, who was Fandy of course, jumped on to his shoulder and began purring the house down with pleasure.

‘We've got better rooms than this, you know,' said the girl. ‘But they think this is good enough for Cinderella to mope in while her sisters go to the ball. But
I'm
going to the ball too, so there! What do you think of that, Martin? Do you like my new dress? My fairy godmother gave it me. If you'd been a minute sooner you'd have seen her. She's a dear old thing. I say, you
do
like my dress, don't you?'

‘Yes!' murmured Martin shyly.

Cinderella put out her tiny feet towards him, first the left one and then the right, so that he might see her glass slippers. ‘Many people about to-night,' she asked, ‘as you came along?'

‘I … I didn't notice anybody. Who do you mean?'

‘Oh, Old King Cole, Mother Hubbard, Simple Simon, Miss Muffet, Jack Horner, Tom Thumb, Jack the Giant Killer—they all live in this street. And Little Red Riding Hood, she's one of the oldest inhabitants. The Wolf doesn't really eat her, you know,' added Cinderella confidentially. ‘It's quite
a nice Wolf when you get to know it. We often have a chat together. Oh, only in the street, of course. We never go into each other's houses. That's against the rules. Well, I'm glad you've called for your cat, Martin. How did you know he was here?'

‘I didn't exactly
know
,' Martin confessed. ‘I just thought he might be. He's a very nice cat, isn't he?'

‘Oh my!' cried Cinderella, glancing at the clock. ‘I must be off to the ball at once. Would you like to come with me? There's a coach-and-four waiting, with the grandest coachman and the grandest footman you ever saw in your life.'

‘I should
like
to come,' sighed Martin. ‘But the others will be wondering where I am. They're in the log-cabin, you know. They were asleep when I came out, but they may be awake now. We built the log-cabin yesterday. At least we finished it. And I must go back at once because of the pirates…'

‘I tell you what would be fun,' said Cinderella, interrupting him. ‘I'll drive you back to the log-cabin before I go to the ball….'

So Cinderella took him by the arm and whisked him (with Fandy still on his shoulder) out of the house, but not into the street he had entered from. Oh no, it was a very different one. It was a dark night with only a pale slip of moon visible, and there were no houses to be seen except Cinderella's own. There, waiting for them, was the coach, richly ornamented with gold outside, and with scarlet silk
inside; the coachman sat looking very prim and stiff, as though he were having his photograph taken; and as for the footman, Martin trembled with awe at sight of him and wondered if Cinderella would ever dare to ride with her back to so magnificent a person. Both coachman and footman wore buckled shoes and knee breeches, a yellow velvet coat, a powdered periwig, and a cocked hat. At the four fine chestnut horses Martin hardly had time to look, for Cinderella with an imperious order to the coachman—‘The log-cabin, John'—stepped nimbly into the coach without an instant's delay.

The coach carried them swiftly and smoothly through the night. They sat side by side and hand in hand, and Martin said: ‘I'm glad you're going to the party, Cinderella. But please do remember not to stay after twelve o'clock. And don't lose your glass slippers, whatever you do.'

Before she could answer, the coach came to a standstill, and the footman stood like an image at the door.

‘The log-cabin, madam!' said the footman. And his manner was so proud that to speak at all seemed to hurt his dignity.

Martin jumped out of the coach; then turned back to say good-bye. ‘I'll take you to your door,' whispered Cinderella. And she got out too.

‘It doesn't look a bit the same,' said Martin, rather uneasily.

They stood outside a house on the door of which was written: ‘The Robinson Log-Cabin.' But where was the forest? And where the sound of the sea breaking on the shore of Gunpowder Creek? ‘It's not like our island at all,' added Martin. ‘How did I get here?' And then he noticed that the name on the next door was
Cinderella.
‘Why, here's your house next door! What a long way round we've come! It's been a funny night altogether. First I walked out of the log-cabin into the forest. And it was all Christmas trees. And then I came to a wide road and fields covered in snow. And then I got to a little town. And there was your street, Cinderella. How did I get there? Can you tell me?'

Cinderella wrinkled up her pretty nose and frowned thoughtfully. ‘It's like those Indian boxes,' she said, ‘all different sizes, one inside the other. The forest of firs was like the first box; inside that was the snow country; and inside the snow country was the little town of moonshine where
I
live. The funny thing is, though, that they get bigger instead of getting smaller. And the one right in the middle is biggest of all.'

This puzzled Martin, and he was becoming too sleepy to try to understand it. ‘Well, I must go now.
Come on, Fandy. Thank you very much for driving me home, Cinderella.'

‘And they're all inside there,' finished Cinderella, letting her slim hand fall gently on his head. ‘The forest, the snow country, the little moonshine town—all of them.'

‘What, in the log-cabin?' asked Martin.

‘No, goose!' She bent down and lightly kissed him on the forehead. ‘In
there
,' she said. Then she stepped into her coach and rode off.

Martin stood watching Cinderella and waving to her till the coach was out of sight. He wanted to run after it and remind her again of the Fairy Godmother's warning not to stay at the ball after twelve o'clock; but when he remembered the end of the story—how Cinderella runs from the ballroom just as the clock is striking, and how one of her glass slippers falls off, and how the Prince picks it up and finds Cinderella, and how the Prince and Cinderella marry each other and live happily ever after—when Martin remembered this he was comforted, deciding that everything was so well planned that he needn't concern himself any more about it. ‘Now then, Fandy,' said Martin, ‘don't you go running away again. You're a bad cat, but I'm glad to see you all the same.' Fandy stuck up his tail like a flagstaff and arched his back and rubbed himself against his young master's legs and purred like tearing carpets. ‘And don't purr,' commanded Martin, ‘or you'll wake the others up.' At that Fandy purred louder than ever. Martin pushed open the door, though he still couldn't quite believe that it was the door of their own log-cabin.

‘Who goes there?' said a voice sharply. ‘Answer or you're a dead man.'

Martin recognized Rex's voice, and very nice it was to hear it again after his travels in strange countries. ‘It's only me,' he said.

‘Young Martin!' exclaimed Guy, sitting up. ‘Now where the dickens have
you
been, young Martin?'

‘In the forest looking for Fandy,' answered Martin, confidently. ‘And I found him too. Look!'

‘Fandy!' cried Elizabeth. ‘How nice! I can't see him, but I can hear him purring. Oh yes, there he is! Hullo, Fandy!'

‘Now look here, Martin!' It was Rex speaking, and his voice sounded ominous. ‘This has jolly well not got to happen again. We can't have you wandering in the forest at night, all alone, with pirates and hyenas and I don't know what prowling about. You wait till we're all asleep and then you go and sneak out. If you do it again, young Martin, you'll have a most frightful licking, so I warn you.'

‘But I've had perfectly lovely adventures,' protested Martin, very crestfallen. ‘And there weren't any pirates or hyenas, Rex, not a single one.'

‘I don't care about that,' said Rex. ‘You oughtn't to have gone, and you'd better not let me catch you at it again. Pretty fine thing if we had to go home and tell Mother we'd lost you! We'd never hear the end of it.'

Martin had come in brimful of his wonderful story,
and now he was in disgrace. He was bitterly disappointed. ‘Anyhow,' he said sulkily, ‘Elizabeth's captain, not you.'

‘I tell you what, everybody,' said Elizabeth. ‘I've been considering a bit. I don't think I'd better be captain on shore. I'd rather Rex. I'm not very good at pirates.'

‘Then that's settled,' remarked Guy. ‘Elizabeth captain of the ship, Rex captain on shore. Now, Martin, tell us all about these adventures of yours. There's no more sleep for us to-night, by the look of it.'

Martin came out of his sulks at once. He knew that there was sense in what Rex had said, and he was eager to be friends again with every one. ‘I went out into the forest,' he said. ‘And it wasn't like
our
forest at all. It was full of Christmas trees, and there was a lot of moonlight, and …' So he went on, telling them everything that had happened to him except one thing; for about the orange tree he said nothing, the dwarf having taken all memory of it out of his mind. ‘And then,' he finished breathlessly, ‘Cinderella brought me and Fandy back to the log-cabin in a coach with four chestnut horses and gold on it and red cushions and two proud-looking men in their best clothes, and then Cinderella went on to the ball and I pushed open the door and … here I am, you see.'

There was silence for a while. Then Elizabeth said: ‘He's been dreaming, poor lamb!'

‘Has he though?' mused Guy. ‘We can't be sure of that. One thing's certain—this is not an ordinary island. It's funny, isn't it, how everything so far has turned out much as we planned it the day we drew the map? And yet there's differences. No, it's not an ordinary island. We didn't know it would be like this. All kinds of things we didn't think of. P'r'aps the island is different at nights.'

‘Only what you'd expect,' said Rex. ‘We were out all last night, Guy, so
we
ought to know.'

‘Well, then,' said Guy, sticking to his point, ‘p'r'aps it's different sometimes and not other times. P'r'aps it has a sort of night out and goes a bit mad and plays tricks.'

Rex went to the door and flung it wide open. ‘Everything's the same as before,' he said.

Guy was stubborn. ‘That doesn't prove anything.'

‘We're in our own box, that's why,' ventured Martin. ‘Cinderella explained it all, but I was too sleepy to understand properly. It was something about those Indian boxes that you buy in toyshops—you open the first and there's another, and then you open the next and there's another, and then you open that one and …'

‘We know the rest,' said Guy.

‘And Cinderella said …'

‘Oh, you and your Cinderella!' laughed Rex. ‘Let's try to get a bit more sleep. Work to do in the morning, and I shall pipe all hands at crack of dawn.'

Martin, in spite of having so many exciting things to think about, was the first to fall asleep; Rex was next, and Guy last of all. As for Elizabeth, she lay awake tossing and turning, thinking first of this, then of that, wondering what her mother was doing, wishing Captain Blackheart would put in another appearance, and trying to remember exactly how deep the treasure had been hidden. Finally, giving up the idea of sleep, she got up to pour out some water for Fandy to drink, and to crumble some ship's biscuit for Fandy to eat. ‘Poor cat! We forgot all about you.' But Fandy himself displayed not the slightest interest in these preparations, and when they were completed he could not be persuaded to do more than sniff at his meal. ‘Very well!' said Elizabeth good-humouredly; and she lay down again and made one last effort to sleep.

She had not been lying down many minutes when a sudden sound startled her, so that she opened her eyes and half got up. At first she thought that morning must have come; but the next moment she realized her mistake. The door was wide open; the place was flooded with moonlight; from just outside came the sound of husky whispers. Fear made her dumb and gripped her limbs, so that for one terrible moment she could neither call out nor move. Her lips parted, but no sound came from them but a sharp sigh. Then a man's head appeared in the doorway, and a man's arm came groping into the cabin. It was
Bill Murder, but a very different Bill Murder from the mild-mannered, craven-hearted creature she had seen in the daytime. Moonlight slanted upon his face, which was twisted into a cruel villainous leer.