Nightbirds on Nantucket Page 8

  When the noon hour came they entered the house to the accompaniment of a regular hurricane of thumps from upstairs. Pen ran up to inquire her aunt's wishes and returned trembling and in tears, so fiercely had she been greeted with "Fetch gingerbread and applesauce and look sharp about it, miss! What have you been doing all morning, I'd like to know? Idling and playing and picking flowers, I suppose!"

  "Oh, pray, don't scold, Aunt Tribulation—pray, don't. Indeed, indeed, we haven't been idling; we have hoed more than half the potato field."

  "Old harridan. I wonder how she knew you'd made some gingerbread?" Dido said. "She must have a nose on her like a bloodhound. There's some apples down cellar, Penny. I saw them when I was getting the kindling for the stove. And there's hams and onions and molasses and bushels of beans, so we shan't starve and nor will old Mortification upstairs."

  As Pen hurried to get the apples, Dido, stoking the stove, muttered, "111, my eye! If she's so ill, what's her nightcap ribbon doing on the kitchen floor? You've been poking and snooping and spying, you old madam, you, to see whether we did the housework, you horrid old hypocrite!"

  When the applesauce was made she took a saucerful up to Aunt Tribulation with the cap ribbon ostentatiously stuck like an ornament at the side of the dish. "I guess this is yours, Auntie Trib," she remarked innocently. "I can't think how it come to be lying on the floor downstairs. Acos you haven't been down, have you?"

  Aunt Tribulation took this very much amiss. "Impertinent girl! Don't speak to me in that way. Apologize immediately!"

  "Why should I?" Dido said reasonably. "You ain't been extra polite to us."

  "You shall be shut up in the attic till you learn better manners."

  "Tally-ho! I'm agreeable," said Dido. "I can just about do with a nap arter all that hoeing."

  "Not now," said Aunt Tribulation, who appeared suddenly to recollect that she had other plans for the girls. "I want you and Penitence to shift the sheep up to the high pasture. And, mind you, count them! Do that as soon as you've washed the dishes. And don't forget to make up the stove. And bring the cows back when you come, and milk them, and shut them up. And skim the cream and make butter."

  "Sure that's all?" inquired Dido. "Nothing else as how you can lay your mind to? Sartin? Tooralooral, then."

  "Is you positive there ain't any wolves on Nantucket?" Dido asked Pen as they walked down the sandy lane to the pasture, where the sheep were to be seen grazing.

  "No, why? There's nothing but deer and jackrabbits."

  "I was only thinking," Dido replied pensively, "as how it would be very convenient if a wolf was to break in and gobble up the old Tartar. Never mind, us'll get her tamed, I'll have her eating out o' your hand before I'm through. Tell you what, Pen, whenever you see her, think to yourself, 'Poor old Aunt Tribulation, I wonder if your rheumaticks is a-troubling you.' Now, how the mischief are we to count these here blame sheep?"

  "There's a gate in those railings over there," Pen said. "If you could get behind them and drive them, I could count them as they came through."

  "Clever girl, Pen. You've got a right smart head on your shoulders when you doesn't get all of a pucker and a fluster."

  Dido ran off across the rough pasture, which was not grass but low-growing scraggy shrubs and bushes. Pen waited by the gate and, conquering a slight tendency to shrink in alarm as the sheep streamed towards her, manfully counted them.

  "Two hundred and twenty-three," she said when they were all through and being driven up towards the high pasture. "I wonder if that is the right number?"

  "Well, if it ain't, you may lay Auntie Trib will tell us fast enough. Croopus, don't the wind blow up here, and can't we see a long way!"

  "All over the island," Pen said wanly, looking across the rolling, shrubby moorlands to the line of the ocean. On the south shore, white, mushrooming clouds of spray from breakers could be seen dimly through a belt of haze.

  "What's that white tower to the east?"

  "Sankaty Head Lighthouse. There's a forest between us and it," Pen said with a faint glimmer of pride, "but you can't see it. It's called the Hidden Forest. That's uncommon, isn't it?"

  "Rummy," agreed Dido. "So's your pa's house. Why's it got a balcony on the roof? And why's it standing on legs?"

  "I don't know about the legs. Grandpa Casket built the house. The balcony was for Granny, so she could look out to sea and see if Grandpa's ship was in sight. Mamma didn't like going up there; it made her giddy."

  "It's a naffy idea," Dido said. "I'd like to go up. I reckon this is a fust-rate little island, Pen; us can have a fine time here once we've got Auntie Trib pacified."

  "Look, isn't that a man coming to call at the house? We'd better go home."

  "Race you down the hill," Dido said, and was astonished when Pen nodded, picked up her skirts, and darted away down the sandy track.

  But when they reached the house, panting and laughing, nobody seemed to be about. The man had vanished. They ran into the kitchen, and Dido went up to Aunt Tribulation's room.

  "Has somebody called here?" she asked, knocking and entering. There was a sort of flurry from the bed, as Aunt Tribulation huddled down in her pillows. Two spots of crimson showed on her thin cheeks.

  "Do not come in until I give you leave, miss!" she croaked.

  "Sorry, I'm sure! We was feared you mighta had to get up and answer the door."

  "I have done no such thing! Go and milk the cows!"

  "Good land, don't be in such a pelter. I'm just a-going," Dido said, injured. Then, recollecting, she added, "Never mind, poor Aunt Trib. Is your rheumaticks very bad?" and shut the door. But in the passage outside she paused, remembering that she had noticed the door next to Aunt Tribulation's opened on an upward flight of stairs. Must lead to that fancy balcony, she thought. I've a good mind to step up—won't take but a moment. She tried the door. Strangely enough, it was locked now, though she was sure it had been open when she noticed it before.

  "Why are you loitering out there, girl?" Aunt Tribulation called angrily from her room.

  Dido shrugged and ran downstairs.

  "D'you want to make the butter, seeing you know how, Dutiful?" she proposed. "I'll fetch in Mossface and make a start on milking."

  Penitence agreed gratefully.

  "You'll have to face the cows sometime, though," Dido warned. "And I can tell you, they ain't a quarter as fierce as Auntie."

  When the milking was done and Dido was helping Pen in the dairy, taking spells with the heavy churn, she asked, "Does that door by Aunt Trib's room lead up to the roof, Penny?"

  "Yes, and to the attic."

  "Where's the key kept?"

  "In the door, mostly," Pen said in surprise. "But there's a spare, because once when I was little I locked myself in there. Oh, I was scared, and so was Mamma!"

  "Where's the spare, then?"

  "On a hook at the back of the china closet. Why?"

  "Just I've a fancy to go up there sometime," Dido replied calmly. She did not add that she was also curious to know what Aunt Tribulation was up to. It seemed clear that while the girls were out she had locked the attic door and taken the key. What could be her reason?

  The butter thumped against the side of the churn. "It's come," announced Pen with relief, opening the lid and looking inside.

  "That's as well," said Dido, rubbing her biceps. "Another minute and my arms 'ud 'a busted right off at the sockets. What'll us do now?"

  "I suppose we're free," Pen said doubtfully. "I'd like to do some lessons. And write my journal and sew my sampler."

  "Not on your Oliphant. There's the old gal a-thumping again."

  Aunt Tribulation called imperiously for Pen to bring her more gingerbread and applesauce, with a drink of the new milk. "Did you scald the crocks?" she demanded. "And salt the butter? And how many sheep did you count?"

  "Two hundred and twenty-three, Aunt Tribulation," Pen quavered.

  "One missing! That one must be found, miss."

  "Y-y-
yes, Aunt!"

  "Make haste and set about it, then."

  Pen bore up till she was downstairs, but then she burst into tears.

  "Oh, I'm so tired! And look, it's nearly dark outside. Do you think we really need go tonight, Dido? I'm sure we'd never find it. And I don't believe I can walk another step."

  "Nor you shall," said Dido sturdily. "Be blowed to the old besom. How does she expect us to find one sheep in the dark in umpty miles o' wild country? That's a crazy notion. It'll look after itself till morning, I reckon; we'll find it then. Run along to bed, Pen, while I stoke the stove and lock the back door."

  Pen was already half-asleep by the time Dido tiptoed up and snuggled in beside her under the quilted comforters.

  "I brought the back and front door keys," she whispered, tucking them under the pillow. "Just so's to be on the safe side. 'Night, Dutiful."

  "Goodnight, Dido."

  Halfway through the night Dido woke up and lay listening sharply. This ain't half a creaky old house, she thought. Every pine board seemed to have its own separate voice, and when the wind blew it was almost like being on board ship. But no wind was blowing now, and yet a board had creaked. She was sure it was a board. Outside she could hear a night heron croaking on the moors, but this was a different sound, quite close at hand. Burglars? Dido slid a hand under the pillow and satisfied herself that both keys were still there. Pen slept peacefully. The creak was not repeated and, after a while, Dido, too, drifted back into sleep and dreamed that she was asking Aunt Tribulation to lend her the fare to England, while Pen weepingly begged her not to go, and Aunt Tribulation made no reply except to shake her red wattles, wink a black, beady eye, and croak, "Certainly not! Certainly not! Get up, you lazy girl! Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

  "Wake up, Pen, it's morning."

  "Oh, no, it can't be!" moaned Pen. "I could sleep for hours longer."

  "Never mind. At least we shan't have to light the stove this morning. I can just about do with some bacon and coffee."

  They dressed in the warm kitchen. While Dido was brushing Pen's long hair, Pen said, "That's odd. I thought we left the window fastened. Look, it's only pushed to."

  Dido considered the window in frowning silence for a moment before going out to the byre. But she only said, "Oh well, lucky nobody noticed it and got in."

  Mrs. Pardon appeared again to help them with the morning tasks and was amazed to find that they had managed to make the butter themselves.

  "Why, you're a reg'lar pair of young farmers!" she declared. "I'd best teach ye how to make cheese, then, and soap. I've brought ye some goodies—I know young 'uns always like candy. And a mess o' pooquaws in case your auntie fancies a bit o' fish. Is she any better today?"

  "We haven't seen her yet this morning."

  "She was in rare, brisk spirits last night," Pen and Dido said together.

  "She is a rare, brisk 'un, isn't she, your auntie? I was surprised when I seed her—she's not a bit like Cap'n Casket."

  "Hadn't you seen her before, then?" Dido said, surprised.

  "No, lovey. She's never lived in Nantucket since she was a gal, you see. She went off to live with her grandmother in Vine Rapids."

  Dido pondered over this, while the animals were tended and the cheese-making went forward. Then, she thought to herself, there's nothing to prove that this lady is Aunt Tribulation at all. Pen doesn't really remember her. But if she isn't Aunt Tribulation, who is she?

  Dido milked, while Mrs. Pardon showed Pen how to cook the pooquaws. Then, after they had breakfasted, and while Aunt Tribulation was graciously accepting the delicacy, inspired by a sudden idea, Dido found the spare attic key and ran softly upstairs. She slipped the key into the keyhole—it fitted, the door opened—and she tiptoed on up the next flight. She found herself in a huge room with a sloping roof and low dormer windows. It stretched the length of the house and was filled with all sorts of odds and ends—old trunks, old boots, boxes, bales of sacking, flour bags, two stuffed birds under a glass cover, some wooden stub-toe skates, an old fowling gun, and so forth. Dido looked around sharply. She did not quite know what she was searching for, but almost at once she found it: faint, sandy footprints on the floor.

  Those weren't made long ago, Dido said to herself. If they had been, they'd soon 'a dried up and blowed away.

  A ship's ladder and a trapdoor led out onto the roof; looking down from the widows'-walk balcony, Dido saw Mrs. Pardon hurry away down the track towards Polpis. I'd best be getting back to work, she thought, before the old gal finds I'm up here, and she closed the trapdoor and tiptoed down the ladder. At its foot she stopped short, riveted by the sight of something that she had missed on her first, hasty survey of the attic. Behind one of the chests, as if they had been hurriedly thrust out of sight, was a bundle of ladies' clothes: bonnet, gloves, a black silk dress, and a cloak of gray twill. On top of the bundle was a pair of bottle-green boots.

  Dido tiptoed over and inspected these. They had white stains on them.

  Salt water, she said to herself. Those haven't been here long.

  I'd best get out o' here.

  After giving another quick, darting look round the attic, she slipped down the stairs and softly closed and locked the door behind her. None too soon, it seemed; she could hear terrified wails coming from Aunt Tribulation's room.

  "Dido said I might go to bed!" Penitence was saying through her tears. "Dido said we'd never find it in the dark. And, indeed, Aunt Tribulation, we were dreadfully tired. Dido said th-that looking at nighttime was a crazy notion."

  "She did, did she? She shall be punished for that. And you, miss, had better go out now, and I don't wish to see you again until the sheep is found! I am going to make myself obeyed from now on, do you understand?" Aunt Tribulation rapped on the floor with her stick.

  Frowning, Dido walked into the room.

  "So, girl!" Aunt Tribulation addressed her fiercely. "You countermand my instructions, do you?"

  "Yes," Dido agreed. "They was downright addlepated. And you didn't oughta shout at Pen that way; you'll scare her into histories. Pen," she added, more in sorrow than anger, "haven't I told you about not putting the blame on someone else? Stick up for yourself, girl!"

  Pen gave her a miserable glance.

  "Still, we mustn't be too hard on the old gal," Dido added, with a sudden seraphic smile at Aunt Tribulation. "When she shouts at you, Pen, remember her rheumaticks is hurting her cruel bad."

  Plainly, Aunt Tribulation did not quite know how to deal with this.

  "Penitence!" she snapped. "Be off!"

  Pen hesitated, then ran from the room.

  "As for you," Aunt Tribulation went on, "you can miss your dinner. Go out, finish hoeing the potato field, then do the cornfield, and don't come back till it's finished."

  "Blister your potato field," Dido replied calmly. "I'm a-going to help Pen find that sheep. And if I miss my dinner, so will you, acos there won't be no one to bring it up to you."

  With which parting shot she ran downstairs to the kitchen. Pen had already started down the track. Dido quickly put up a bundle of food—bread, butter, cheese, a handful of dates, and the candy sticks Mrs. Pardon had brought with her. "Miss my dinner be blowed," she thought; then she ran out after Pen, who could be seen trudging miserably along about half a mile in front. Dido waved and called unavailingly—Pen was too far away to hear, and the wind was blowing the wrong way—and hurried in pursuit. I mustn't be hard on Pen, she thought as she ran; it's bad enough for the poor little creep to be bawled out by Aunt Tartar without me bearing on her too. But she does try a body's patience at times. Weak, like her da.

  At last she caught up with Pen. "Hey-o!" she shouted. "Look, I brought us a picnic. If we're to spend a day on the moors, we might as well enjoy ourselves and make it an outing."

  Penitence looked affrighted. "But she said you were to miss your dinner! I heard her, all the way down the stairs."

  "Look, Pen," Dido said patiently. "Whose vittles is these? Your pa
's, ain't they? He asked me to stay with you, didn't he? He didn't say I was to miss no dinners. And who done the work? Who fed the pigs and milked the cow and made the bread? You and I done it; Auntie Trib never done a hand's turn. So she've got no call to order us about."

  Pen seemed so astonished and alarmed at these revolutionary ideas that Dido left her to digest them in peace while they searched for the missing sheep. There were plenty of others to be seen grazing the rough pasture as they went farther afield, but not one with the red "C," which was Captain Casket's mark. At last, when they were about halfway to Polpis and the sun was high in the sky, Dido suggested that they should rest and eat.

  "I wonder if you couldn't stay with Mrs. Pardon?" she suggested, as they sat on a bank munching their bread and cheese.

  Pen's face lit up.

  "Oh, do you suppose I could? She is so kind and nice. But perhaps she is too busy with her sick father."

  "Glad of another pair of hands, I dessay," Dido said. "After all, you're handy about the house, Pen. But I's'pose we'd have to get your pa's permission or Auntie Trib'd never let you go. And the mischief is, how to find him if he's off again chasing his everlasting pink whale. Why don't you set your fist to writing to your pa?"

  "Do you think a letter would change his mind, Dido? I'll write to him just as soon as I can," said Penitence.

  "Oh, look, Pen! I do believe that there's a sheep with a red mark. Look, by the bushes. Quick, let's go arter him. Brrr! though; ain't it turned cold all of a sudden."

  While they were eating, the children had not noticed that a fine, white sea mist had come creeping over the island. Just as they started after the wandering sheep the mist caught up with and engulfed them.

  "Hey, where are you, Pen?" Dido called anxiously.

  "Here! I'm here!"

  "Blame it, it's like walking through porridge! Where in thunderation is your voice coming from? Stand still, till I find you," Dido said, feeling her way forward, but Pen suddenly shouted excitedly, "Oh, I see it, I see the sheep! I believe I can catch it, too!"

  There came the sound of running footsteps, which faded into the distance, then a disappointed cry, "Oh, drat!"