10

Simon came to by slow degrees. Once, long ago, he had lain ill of a fever at Gloober's Poor Farm, and had been left, sweating and shivering and delirious, in the granary, where he would probably have died had not Sophie sometimes stolen away from her duties to bring him food and keep him covered with horse blankets.

For some time he thought he was back in the granary. It was dark, but he could smell the same smell of meal and canvas and timber; only one thing puzzled him: a strange regular creak and groaning which seemed to come from all around him; he finally concluded it must be the blood pounding in his feverish head. When he tried to move he found he was quite unable to do so.

"I must be very ill," he thought. "I wish Sophie would come."

But Sophie did not come and soon the fever, or nightmare, whichever it was, had him completely at its mercy. Although he could not move of his own will, yet he found himself rolled from side to side as if by a giant invisible hand, and was soon bruised and aching from head to foot.

"Could I be in a cart?" he wondered. "But no; if I were I should hear the wheels and the horse's hoofs; I must be in the granary and I think I must be going to die." He rolled again, this time over and over; it was as if the floor of the place heaved up, up, up, in a long, tilting swing, and then down, down, down, in the other direction; he rolled and slid, helpless and dizzy. How much of this rolling and battering he endured he did not know; it seemed to go on for an eternity of misery, but at last fever and exhaustion and rough treatment overcame his bruised body and he fainted again.

When next he came to it was because somebody was shining a light very close to his face. He moved his head dazedly, opened his eyes, and quickly shut them again. He could hear low voices close to him.

"Hold the glim nearer this way, sapskull! How can I see what I'm doing?"

"Sapskull yourself! It's not as easy as all that. Here, let me do that and you hold the light."

"Not on your Jemima! You'd probably slice his dabs off."

Simon became aware that something was being done to his numb, cramped hands. They had seemed immovably jammed against his sides, but now, suddenly, he heard a snap and they were free. He realized that he had been tied up all this time, and struggled feebly to hoist himself on his elbows.

"Wait a minute, don't be in such a pelter, we ain't unfastened your trotters yet," somebody whispered sharply in his ear. Obediently he relaxed and lay back, curling and uncurling his fingers, which tingled as the blood ran into them.

Now he was shoved into a reclining position and found the neck of a bottle tilted against his mouth; he gulped and choked and spat, as liquid ran down his gullet and over his chin.

"Enough..." he muttered weakly, pushing the bottle away. "No more now—later."

The drink (it was prune wine) soon did him good; he opened his eyes and looked about. Close to him, illuminated by the flickering light of a candle, were two familiar faces; after a few seconds he identified them as those of Justin and Dido.

"What the deuce...?" He raised himself feebly and looked into the gloom beyond them, where he saw ramparts of piled sacks and timber. "Where am I? What are you two doing here?"

"Hush! Don't make a row. We're in the Dark Dew."

"Here, give him another drink," Justin whispered.

Simon accepted another swig. Meanwhile Dido's words had penetrated his mind and connected with something he remembered hearing Mr. Twite say.

"The dark dew? What do you mean? What is the dark dew?"

"It's a ship, o' course," Dido whispered impatiently. "We're all at sea. Ain't it a spree?"

"A ship?"

"Uncle Buckle had you shanghaied and taken on board her at Deptford because you was getting to be such a nuisance, always poking and asking questions."

"Where are we now?"

"I dunno," said Dido, giggling. "The Dark Dew is bound for Hanover—Bremen, Pa said (that's where they pick up the Pictclobbers, you know)—but they don't take you there. You get dropped off on an island on the way. Inchmore, it's called; fubsy sort o' name, ain't it?"

"But what about you and Justin—what are you doing here?"

"That's the cream of it." Dido giggled again. "O' course I didn't know you was going to be kidnapped, though I been suspicioning that Pa would do summat o' the sort. I jist luckily happened to be looking out o' the window arter we got home from the Fair, to see if you was coming in, and I saw Pa and Captain Dark put a bag over your head. Coo, you didn't half struggle! Pa had to clobber you with the butt of his barker, and then they carried you off feet first. I thought I'd follow after; I've never liked it at home above half. Anyways I was jist going to hop it when His Royal Nibs here came along."

"Justin, you mean? But why? We left you at Battersea."

"Yes, well, I wouldn't stand it," said Justin sulkily. "You heard what a setdown the old grinder was giving me, a body couldn't bear any more of it! He said you was a danger to me and he'd see to it I'd never have a chance to meet you again. After the prime time we'd had, too! So after he'd left me with a lot of Latin lines I thought I'd just show him and I went down to the stables and made one of the grooms saddle me a horse (lucky Waters wasn't about) and rode to Southwark. I thought I'd call for you and we'd go to Drury Lane, just to show old Buckle-and-Thong who was master. But when I got to Rose Alley, there was Dido just smitching off to go to Deptford, and she told me you'd been scrabbled. So we thought we'd come along for the lark. Dido knew where the ship lay—"

"Captain Dark allus comes to us when he's got a ship in," Dido put in knowledgeably. "There's three of 'em—Dark Dew, Dark Dimity, and Dark Diamond. He runs mixed cargoes to Holland, and brings back arms from Hanover—for the Cause, you know. But, Croopus, we had such a time finding you! We sneaked on board in the dark and hid in the forecastle—Justin nipped into a chest and I squeezed behind the grog barrel—and then when we was out to sea we thought we'd look for you but there was such a storm! All we did was fall over! Justin nearly lobbed his groats—didn't you, Nibs?—and I didn't like it above half."

"Oh, that was a storm, was it?" said Simon, remembering the hours of rolling misery. "I thought I was feverish. How long did it last?"

"Matter o' two days. And then it took us forever to find you, on account you was stowed away down here in the hold."

"I'd have been in a bad way, but for you," Simon said gratefully. "But what's to be done now? Does nobody know you're on board?"

"Not a soul. Ain't it famous? We've been having such a game of hide-and-seek! When Captain Dark comes out o' his cabin, Justin nips in and nobbles his bottle of mountain dew (that's what we been giving you). Then the cook comes out o' the galley—I nips in and grabs a black pudding and a hunk of tack. Fast as the sailors coils up the ropes, we uncoils 'em again. We've been undoing things and unwinding things till they think the ship's betwaddled." Dido was laughing so much that here she was obliged to stop and stick the candle in a crevice between two planks because she was spilling hot wax over Simon's legs.

"Are you better, Simon?" she asked presently. "If you are, I've got a bang-up plan."

"What's that, brat?"

"We'll all play hide-and-seek with the sailors. We'll turn everything in the ship upsy-down, till they're so set about and dumbflustered they don't know which way they're going, and then we'll watch our chance and lock 'em in the roundhouse, and sail the ship back to Deptford ourselves."

While Simon admitted that this was a pleasing plan, he saw snags.

"Can you sail a ship, Dido?"

"I knows the ropes," she said confidently. "Habbut you?"

"Never been in one in my life before," Simon had to admit, which evidently somewhat dashed Dido's high opinion of him. Justin's acquaintance with ships had been limited to trips up the Thames in his uncle's barge, and it was plain he was not a keen sailor; throughout the conversation he had remained pale and silent, swallowing frequently.

"I don't really believe we can sail the ship ourselves," Simon said.

"Well then"—Dido refused to be cast down—"we'll smidge some barkers—I knows where they keeps the guns and balls—and hold 'em up, make them sail us back."

"That's a likelier plan. How many are there in the crew?"

"Matter o' fourteen or fifteen, and most of 'em tipple-topped or right down half-seas-over all the time; Captain Dark's the wust of 'em, you never see him but he's got a bottle in his hand and one in his pocket."

"That's what we'll do, then," said Simon. "Where do they keep the guns?"

"Up on deck, in the roundhouse. We could snibble up now, it's nighttime and there's only a couple of coves on peep-go."

Unfortunately Simon discovered when he tried to move that he was still a great deal too weak to stand. His legs gave way and he fell back groaning against the meal sacks.

"It's no good, brat," he gasped. "I'll have to wait till I get my strength up. Lying tied up all this time without food has left me as limp as a herring."

Dido knit her brows. "I'll lay you'd do better in the air," she said. "This here hold's got a breath in it like a moldy coffin. Let's put him on a sack and haul him out, Justin."

Justin looked doubtful, but when she ordered him not to squat there gaping like a jobberknoll but to find an empty sack he nodded palely and obeyed. They laid the sack by Simon and he dragged himself onto it.

The whole project seemed utterly impossible, but somehow, thanks to Dido's indomitable spirit, it succeeded; Simon was drawn along on the sack to the foot of the ladder that led up from the hold; then, with Dido pulling from above and Justin pushing from below, he contrived to hoist himself up through the hatchway.

"All rug now?" said Dido after a period of rest. "Come on, we'd best bustle or it'll be morning before we're up top."

Once more they set to hauling Simon along a dark gallery. While they were resting in the shadows at the foot of the next ladder, a man came down it, but he never saw them; he reeled as he walked and a strong flavor of spirits wafted from him.

"He's bosky" Dido said calmly. "Drunk as a wheelbarrow. They're all like that—slacking the cables after the storm."

With a fearful effort, Simon was hoisted up the last ladder. Dido's shrimplike frame seemed to possess amazing strength, both in muscle and will power: she hauled like a horsebreaker and exhorted her two companions in a wild flow of whispered gutter language that had a most stimulating effect. Even so, they were all collapsing from exhaustion by the time they reached the deck, and had to lie down helplessly for many minutes. Luckily, as Dido had said, the crew had all been drinking freely after the storm; most of them were asleep and the two on watch were in no state to notice anything unusual.

"Brush on, cullies," whispered Dido presently. "There's a fire in the galley. We might as well have a warm-up, and we're out o' view there."

The galley was a warm and cluttered place; it seemed to serve the purpose of a handy storehouse, for it contained chests and bales and piles of sailcloth. A fire glowed red in an iron stove, and a snoring man lay sprawled on the floor in front of it.

Simon's last recollection was of being thrust into a sort of cocoon composed of rope-yarn and old rags, behind some chests. Then Dido dropped a duffel cloak over him and he slept.

He was roused by a violent blow on the head and opened his eyes with a gasp, thinking that they were discovered. He saw the scared faces of Dido and Justin, who were wedged with him behind the chests; then he realized that they were not under attack; a heavy iron hook, hanging from a coil of rope on the wall, had swung out and struck him. The ship was plunging violently. The hook flew out again, and Simon reached up dizzily and pulled it down.

"We must be running into another storm," he whispered.

The ship echoed and re-echoed with noises—the confused shouts of half-tipsy men, the hum, sometimes rising to a wail, of wind in the rigging, and the roar and crash of the sea itself. They could feel the Dark Dew shudder, shrink, and then plunge on as each wave struck her. Feet pattered across the deck and someone shouted an order to reef all sails; the sleeper in front of the galley fire groaned, pulled himself together, and staggered out.

"I might as well prig some peck while the going's good," Dido said, and crawled out from their hiding place. She came back in a moment with two large handfuls of raisins. "There you are, cullies. Keep swallowing, it's much the best in this sort o' toss-up."

"I can't stand it," moaned Justin. Dido eyed him scornfully. A dim gray morning light was filtering in through the open door and Simon could see that Dido was as white as a sheet, but she seemed to be alert and cocky, thoroughly enjoying the adventure.

"You are a loblolly," she told Justin. "I think it's prime—I've never had such a bang-up lark, except for the Fair. I'd sooner be here than at home any day."

"If only the ship wouldn't lurch about so!" whimpered Justin, as a weight of water struck the roof above them with a thunderous crash. "There's water coming in now."

"Pooh," said Dido, pale but game. "That's only a bit of sea hitting the deck."

"But I've got a pain in my breadbasket."

"So've I, but I don't make such a song and dance about it."

"Hush—listen," said Simon, who had been straining his ears. He had caught a long-drawn-out call, repeated twice, and was trying to make it out, as it echoed again over the sound of the wind.

"...Ay-ay-ay-ay ... ire ... ire ... Fire!"

"Fire in the hold! Fire!"

"Fire?" breathed Dido, staring at Simon with dilated eyes. Now she did seem a little scared. "Fire in the hold? But that's where you were, Simon! Croopus, it's lucky we got you away from there!"

"That candle, Dido—that candle you stuck between two planks. Did you ever go back and fetch it—or put it out?"

"I—I don't reckon as how I did," she whispered. "D'you think that's what started the fire?"

"It might be."

"Oh, they'll easily put it out," Justin said, hopefully. "Won't they? Won't they?"

The other two did not answer. They were listening. A sudden puff of smoke blew through the galley door. The clamor on deck increased, and above the sound of wind and waves Simon now thought he could detect a different noise—could it be the crackle of fire?

"What'll happen?" whispered Dido, very subdued.

"Oh, there must be some boats—if they can't put the fire out—" His words were interrupted by a sudden extraordinary noise, so loud that it seemed to reduce all the sounds that had preceded it to mere taps and whispers. It was a rending, grinding roar that lasted for as long as Simon could draw five breaths—then the ship seemed to stop dead in her course and there was an awesome silence.

"What is it, what's that noise?" cried Dido. None of them could bear to stay in hiding any longer; they all leaped from their nook and ran to the galley door. Simon almost fell from weakness, but grabbed the doorpost and hung on, looking out. Dido clutched hold of his hand.

The scene before them made even Simon gasp. The Dark Dew, burning like a torch, had literally broken in half, and the forward part of the ship was already drifting away, carried by the fierce wind and waves. They saw two or three men on it trying to launch a boat; then the whole hulk fell over sideways, swamping boat, crew, and all; in a few minutes it had disappeared from view.

The after half of the ship, containing the galley, remained motionless but continued to burn; great detached fragments of smoke and flame flew past on the wind.

"Wh-what's h-happ-pened? Why aren't we moving?" said Dido with chattering teeth. "D-do you think we've run, ag-ground?"

"On a rock, maybe—" Simon stepped out onto the dangerously canted deck and grabbed at a shroud to steady himself. "Look, there are rocks over there, you can see the waves breaking on them."

"Are we near land?" Dido asked hopefully. "Can we get ashore?"

"Heaven knows. Look, they're trying to get another boat free."

A knot of men at the stern were struggling to drag loose a dinghy that had become wedged beneath a fallen spar. They were in a panic, each cursing his mates and getting in the way of the rest. A wild-eyed man with a black beard rushed past the galley and began knocking the men aside with a wooden spike so as to come at the boat himself, shouting orders meanwhile.

"That's Captain Dark," Dido said. "I'd best go and speak to him, I reckon; we don't want to get left here in the nitch, if they're shoving off."

The boat was freed, now, and she darted across the deck and grabbed Captain Dark's arm. He gave a tremendous start at sight of her, and the rest of the men gaped, thunderstruck at this apparition.

"How do, Captain Dark; ain't this a turn-up, then?" said Dido, pale but perky.

"Where in the name of Judas did you come from, you devil's brat?"

"I ain't a devil's brat! You know me, I'm Dido Twite. I stowed on your ship, with Justin there, acos you was taking my cully away."

Captain Dark turned and saw Justin and Simon; he gave them an ugly glance, and the men by the boat began to mutter, "No wonder we come to this, with a brood of Jonahs aboard. Ever body knows childer bring ill-luck at sea."

Suddenly a great piece of the deck fell in, and flames burst out of the galley window.

"Never mind talking now, skipper! For Godsake let's get the boat launched," someone shouted urgently. Captain Dark shook off Dido and rapped out an order; the boat shot off the deck into the sea. Instantly the whole group of men tumbled off the Dark Dew into her, higgledy-piggledy, fighting each other like furies; Captain Dark was among them, wielding an oar vigorously. It was plain there was not going to be room in the boat for everybody. Several men were knocked into the sea but did their best to clamber in again, dragging out their mates as they did so.

"Wait, wait!" Dido called frantically. "Wait for us! You've left us behind!"

"You weren't asked on board, were you?" someone shouted. "Save yourselves, we don't want you."

The boat drifted away. Its crew were too busy struggling for places to worry about pulling at the oars or steering. Simon saw a huge green hill of sea rise beneath its keel and tip the boat sideways like a walnut shell. He could not bear to look any longer and turned his eyes away.

"Save us!" whispered Dido in horror, staring past him. "They've gone! Simon! They've gone! What'll we do?"

"We'll have to manage for ourselves, that's all," Simon said, pulling himself together, trying to sound more hopeful than he felt.

They clambered down to the stern, which the fire had not yet reached, and then realized what had happened to the ship. Her rudder had caught and jammed between two rocks, so that she was held fast and battered until her forward part had broken away.

"She won't last here long," Simon said. "We'd best shift off as soon as we can. I believe that might be an island over there."

Day had now fully broken and a wild yellow light shone fitfully between squalls of rain. They glimpsed a long, craggy ridge of land about half a mile ahead; then black cloud came down and blotted out the view.

"H-how c-can we g-get there?" asked Justin.

Simon cast his eyes around what remained of the deck. There was a large watercask lashed to the mast; he dragged it free.

"Here you are," he said to Justin. "This'll do for you, neat as ninepence. Pass this bit of rope round your middle and through the bunghole—so—now the cask can't float away from you. Here's an oar; hang on to the end of it and we'll let you down; you can go first as you're a Duke's nevvy."

He rolled the barrel into the sea and Justin, whimpering a little, was let down into it and pushed off with the oar, which Simon then passed to him.

"Fend yourself off from the rocks!" he shouted as the cask bobbed away.

"What about us?" asked Dido, doggedly clenching her teeth. "I can't swim."

Simon looked around once more. There were no other barrels, and the flames were coming uncomfortably close.

"It'll have to be this for you and me," he said, and laid hold of the broken spar which had hindered the men from launching the boat. Ropes were still made fast to it, and he passed a couple of these around Dido and tied her on as securely as he could.

"I d-don't like this above half," she said, shivering.

"Never mind. I'm going to push you in and then jump after you. Hold tight to the pole! Now jump!"

"Oh, my lovely new dress! It'll get ru—"

A wave closed over Dido, but she reappeared next minute, gamely clinging to the spar. Simon dived in and managed to grab the other end of it.

"That's the ticket! Now all we have to do is swim to shore."

"Can you see Justin?"

"Yes, he's floating on ahead of us. We'll be all right; you'll see," Simon said as reassuringly as he could. He gave Dido an encouraging smile and she smiled wanly back. She looked a piteous sight with her wet hair hanging in rats' tails over her face.

Simon swam with his legs, pushing the cumbersome spar ahead of him with his arms. It was an exhausting struggle. His heart grew so heavy in his chest, and beat so hard, that he began to feel as if it would work loose and sink from him like a stone.

"Are you all right, brat?" he gasped.

She made some indistinguishable reply. Presently he heard her say, "Are we nearly there?"

"Just keep going. Kick with your legs."

They labored on. Dido, looking back, cried out that the Dark Dew had gone! She had crumbled together like a burning ember and slipped under the waves.

"Lucky for us we weren't on board then," panted Simon. "And I should have been, Dido, if you hadn't come and set me loose. I owe you my life."

"But s'posing it was us that set fire to the ship?" Dido gulped miserably.

"Oh—as to that—very likely it wasn't. With all those drunk men on board, it's a wonder the ship lasted as long as she did."

A wave slopped against Simon's chin and he closed his mouth. He was beginning to feel very strange: his legs were numb from the waist down and hung heavily in the water.

"I—I'll have to stop for a minute, Dido," he said hoarsely. One of his hands slipped off the spar and he only just succeeded in grabbing it again.

"There's a rock, let's make for it," she said. "We can rest for a bit."

With a last effort Simon swam toward the rock. They managed to drag themselves up its slope, getting badly scraped by limpets, and lay side by side on the narrow tip, shivering and exhausted.

"Can you see Justin—or the land?" Dido asked after a while. She huddled closer to Simon. He opened his eyes with an effort, and moved his head, but could see nothing save cloud and driving rain. His eyelids flickered and closed again; he sank into a sort of dream, only half aware of Dido, who occasionally moved or coughed beside him.

Once or twice he realized that she was pushing food into his mouth—damp and salty raisins or crumbs of cheese.

"Keep some for yourself, brat," he muttered weakly.

"I ain't hungry..."

In Simon's feverish fancy the rock seemed to sway up and down as the Dark Dew had done—tilting, tilting, now this way, now that ... Or was he on the branch of a tree, back at home in the Forest of Willoughby? Was that sound not the howl of the sea but the howl of wolves? No, it was the sea, but Dido was talking about wolves in the forest; her words came dreamily, in disjointed snatches:

"Climbing from one tree to the next ... I'd have liked that ... Shying sticks and stones at the wolves down below ... you could laugh at 'em ... it must have been prime. I wouldn't 'a wanted to go to London, dunno why you did. You will take me there some day won't you? To the forest? You said you would. And I'll throw stones at the wolves ... I'm glad you came to London, Simon. Nobody ever told me such tales afore ... and you took me to the Fair ... coo, that dragon was a proper take-in, though, wasn't it ... I liked the Talking Pig best..."

She coughed, and crept closer still against Simon. For some time there was silence, except for the harsh screams of gulls. Simon drifted further and further away toward the frontiers of unconsciousness.

"Simon," Dido said presently in a small voice. His only response was a faint movement of his head.

"Simon, I think the tide's coming in. It's coming higher up the rock. I—I don't think there's going to be room here for both of us. Maybe—maybe I'd better try and float to the shore to get help?"

Simon did not answer. His eyes were closed, and he lay limp, white, and motionless, with the waves breaking not three feet below him.