(1/3) Go Saddle the Sea
Page 27
"Harken, Felix, you cannot guess the marvellous Good Fortune your money brought me. Firstly I was able to pay my Debt to my uncle, so now I can visit England when I wish, without fear of Jail. And when I went to repay my uncle, what do you think I discovered? Why, he had reared up my little lad, my little Matt, that I thought was dead, and I have a son, a proper handsome little fellow of four years, the spit image of my Lily that's dead and gone! And he has learned to call me Farder, and the Magistrate telled Uncle, Ebenezer 'tis my right to take him back to Spain with me—where I know Juana will Spoil him to death for she loves all children. Also, luckily, Uncle Ebenezer is in trouble with Customs over Run goods, so has no time to spare.
"Now, Felix, I am the happiest man in Cornwall this day, and if it had not been for you, I'd ne'er have come back to England, never known about this Treasure I found waiting for me.
"I am as glad as can be about your Great Kinsfolk, and 'twon't make a pin of difference as to how I feel about ye, for when two mates have been in danger such as we have seen together, they are knit for life, be they noble or Humble. So no more now from your attached Friend, Sam."
Well, was not that a joyful letter to receive, and enough to warm the heart on a snowy morning! I was sad not to see Sam, of course, but rejoiced to my roots that matters had turned out so well for him.
What a strange thing, I thought, that he had a son all the time and never knew it. And I thought what a loving father Sam would make, how he would enjoy teaching young Matt all the things he knew himself.
I was glad he could take the boy back to Llanes, where Juana and little Conchita would be sure to welcome him and play with him.
Boys ought to be with their fathers, I thought.
I said a prayer of thanks in my heart to God for arranging Sams fortune so well, and another one, asking for a safe journey for him and little Matt.
Then I opened my other letter, which, I now observed, came from Spain.
It was from my grandfather.
"My dear Grandson: I and your grandmother and your aunts have been rejoiced to hear, by a letter from the good Señor Burden, that you are safely arrived at the house of your English grandfather the Ducque, and that you are now in school.
"Señor Burden will have told you of the wickedness of your great-aunt Isadora, and of her death. What can I say? I bitterly regret the injustice done to you during your life. Now I understand better why you left us, and the bad feeling that lay between you, that led to so much trouble for you and so many punishments, some of them, I fear, undeserved. But that is past now, and your great-aunt is dead, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us. We miss you greatly—the house seems very quiet without you.
"We heard of your adventures on your journey from the good priest at Santillana, and it rejoices me that you endured perils and difficulties with the spirit of a Cabezada—and of a Carisbroke! Senor Burden has written me the history of your English family.
"We shall be hoping, your grandmother and I, to hear the last part of your journeys adventures, and how you finally reached your grandfathers house.
"Pray, my dear grandson, write us a letter as soon as possible.
"And perhaps—perhaps—someday you will find it in your heart to come back. I send you my most esteemed greetings. Your Grandfather."
After I had read this letter I sat holding the paper for £t long time. I saw in my mind's eye the great white slopes of the sierra, as viewed from my window; I saw the cobbled stable yard, the gray-and-damask saloon, the chapel with its red light, the little stone stair where Bernardina had died. I saw Bob's little room—I could never think of him as Father, he would always remain Bob to me. How far away he seemed from me now, how close he had seemed—even after he died—at Villaverde.
Before I had noticed it, my mind was made up. I looked about the little room. There was not much I wanted to take. I had some gold sovereigns—enough to buy a warm jacket and a set of pipes. The rest of my belongings I packed into the box, and attached a note to it, directing that it be sent back to Asshe, with my horse.
I could write to Mr. Burden and Mr. ffanshawe later, explaining. I did not think they would be too surprised. Someday I would come back—but not just yet.
I ran down the stairs at top speed, even faster than I had run up. In the hall I encountered Fred Beauchamp, who said, "Hey, old feller, where are you off to? Its just on breakfast time!"
"I have an errand in the town."
"In the town? Are you queer in your attic? Old Alleyn will be in a rare tweak when he finds out!"
"I don't care!" said I, and slipped out of the front door. Running along the snowy streets to the market, I thought: I can travel back with Ned as far as Falmouth. I can work my passage on some ship to Santander or Bilbao—I know enough to do that now. Or, if they are full-handed, I will pay my fare. I can re-claim Asistenta from the convent, and the bad-tempered mule from the monastery, I can visit Sam and Juana and little Matt and Conchita and Señor Colomas in Llanes. Happy thought! I can spend a little time with Nieves and her family in San Antonio. Things will be better between me and Grandfather—now I shall be able to talk to him and tell him my adventures. And—if Providence is kind—which perhaps is more than I deserve—but I have been very lucky up to now—perhaps, when I get back to Villaverde, old Gato will still be alive, and when I go down to the stable yard he will be waiting there, and will come to rub his head against my leg....
* * *
JOAN AIKEN (1924–2004) was the author of many-books for adults and children, including Black Hearts in Battersea and The Wolves of Willotighby Chase, which won the Lewis Carroll Shelf Award. Her 1968 novel, The Whispering Mountain, was a Carnegie Medal Honor Book and winner of the Guardian Award. She was named a Member of the Order of the British Empire for her services to children's literature.
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Don't miss Felix's other adventures!
Felix's adventures continue in the second book in the trilogy. After visiting his father's family in England, Felix is on his way back to Spain when he's shipwrecked off the coast of France. He is taken in by monks to recover from his ordeal—but it soon becomes clear that he is actually being held prisoner. Felix encounters an injured boy, Juan, on the grounds of the monastery and saves him from death. The two boys escape and continue on to Spain together—but a gang is pursuing Juan, and the journey is more dangerous than they imagined.
In the thrilling conclusion to the trilogy, eighteen-year-old Felix is summoned to rescue three children kidnapped by their father, an escaped inmate who is allegedly mad. Felix leaves his studies at college and accepts the dangerous mission in hopes he'll be reunited with his true love along the way. But when it seems the rescue party is being followed, Felix fears they are being led into a trap.
Praise for this trilogy:
"Each leaves the reader eager for more."
—VOYA (5Q—highest rating)
"I can't recommend these too highly."
—novelist and reviewer Amanda Craig in
The Independent on Sunday
"These books get better with each reading."
—School Library Journal
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* About £30 at the time in England ($120 American).
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* One Spanish dollar was worth about four shillings and sixpence in English money, or a little less than one American dollar.
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* Ah, god of my soul!
Take me from here!
Alas, England
Is not the country for me!
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* Queen Square was built in 1727–35.
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