To say he was startled wouldn't be the half of it. He cried out as though a savage had attacked him, and the sight of him capering around with that tiny, wide-eyed creature made us laugh. Midgely didn't understand—how could he?—until the lovely Lucy described it all in a fashion so humorous that even Mr. Mullock had to smile.
“You've made a friend,” she said. “You must have a good heart, Ernie, for animals to take to you like this.”
I remembered his bat. He'd treated it with kindness, killed it with cruelty, then missed it very much. He was a hard one to fathom, that Mr. Mullock. But as he stood smiling in his gentleman's clothes, with the monkey clinging to his neck, I saw why Lucy seemed to like him.
We all climbed up to the island to look for wood and water. “It shall be like a picnic,” said Lucy, and it was. We ate fruit straight from the tree, and Mr. Mullock had no choice but to share his. The monkey snatched what he wanted with the funniest and cheekiest of cries.
It was soon apparent that the island was empty of people, apart from us. I thought that we might well have been the only ones who had ever stood upon it, for none of its creatures showed the slightest sign of fear. The birds came down and ate the half-finished fruit we tossed aside. A wild pig snuffled through the glade where we rested. A frog sat nearly at Lucy's side, its throat pulsing, as though it were just another—a small green other—member of our party.
We strolled right around the island, then up to its low summit. Unlike previous islands, it was peaceful and beautiful, and even Midgely could tell—by the scents and the sounds—that we'd come to a place that was special.
“This is what the reverend was looking for,” said Lucy. She gathered her skirts and sat down. “I wish he'd found this place; he would have been so happy. It's like the Garden of Eden, isn't it, Ernie?”
“It is,” said Mr. Mullock, settling himself beside her.
Midgely had brought his parasol. When he sat it covered him completely, like a giant toadstool. I managed to find some shade below it too. Only Boggis was standing, staring off to the east.
“Ain't that a sail out there?” he asked.
twenty-one
MR. MULLOCK'S MYSTERIOUS PAST
Where Boggis pointed, I saw the sail. My first thought was of pirates, but Lucy Beans dismissed it. She said the pirate ships came from Borneo, that they wore black sails—one black sail to each mast. This was an English ship, or so Mr. Mullock named it right away. We could see only the topsails and royals, square and bright in the distance. It wasn't the worn, sun-bleached cloth of my father's ship, but the crisp new canvas of a man-of-war.
“The navy,” said Mr. Mullock. “It's my curse to find a place like this and 'ave the navy 'unt me down.”
Lucy looked up at him. “Why would the navy hunt you now? And why would you be cursed?”
Mr. Mullock settled back, staring up at the sky. I thought he wouldn't speak, but he closed his eyes and began the same story he'd begun at the mission. “When I was one and twenty, I went away to London,” he said.
It must have taken him an hour to tell the whole tale. The monkey sat for a while on his chest, then lay on its side with its head in the curve of his neck. He reached out to touch it, and the monkey closed its tiny fist around the tip of his little finger. Lucy Beans moved closer to him, so that she too might pet and stroke the creature's khaki-colored head. She let Mr. Mullock talk, interrupting only now and then.
The first time was when he said, “I made an honest living dealing in the jewels of the ladies I hencountered.”
“What does that mean?” she said, lifting her head from the grass.
“You might say I hintroduced the pawnman to their jewels, Lucy.”
“Means he was a bug hunter, mum,” said Midgely below his parasol.
“I weren't nothing of the sort,” said Mr. Mullock. “Oh, you might say I 'oisted their jewels, and sometimes their silver and whatnot. I pawned them quick enough; it's true. But every farthing went back to the ladies. I kept not a penny for myself. I wined and dined them and took them off on the tour.”
“Such kindness,” she said.
“So it was,” said he. “Everything they'd always wished for, I gave them. Italy; they saw it. France; they carriaged across it. My mother always said that money makes money, and so it did for me. I yachted on the Solent; I dined in clubs and breakfasted in castles, and didn't I grow as rich as a lord? Why, I became a lord. Hah! I did. I bought a lordship, Lucy. Lord Mullock of Duck End Green.”
“Was there a Lady Mullock?” asked Lucy.
“Never. Oh, I 'ad my choice. Hah! Any lady I wished. But I've never met one who happealed to me in that fashion.”
“Never?” she asked in a little voice.
He looked in her green eyes. “Never in London, I mean.”
In the distance, as Mr. Mullock told his tale, the warship passed from island to island. The topsails sank below the horizon, then so did the topgallants, until only the small squares of the royals could be seen.
“I went from rags to riches,” he said. “I'd started out as a stonemason. Did I tell you that? I built walls all over Devon in my youth. But in London I became something of an hexpert in jewels, I may say, and soon enough people came to me. Then I began to 'ear whisperings of the most fabulous stone of them all. It 'ad disappeared some time before, and in 'alf a century not a soul 'ad seen it.”
A prickling came to the back of my neck. I sat up and listened, enthralled, certain I knew how the tale would end.
“There was talk that a young man 'ad found it,” said Mr. Mullock. “Then 'e sent 'is card around, and I went off to see 'im. It was along the Strand somewhere, a fine part of the city. My knock was answered by a shriveled, decrepit man, a shuffling 'orror. I asked by name for the young fellow who 'ad sent for me. This old man said—and I shall never forget it—‘I am 'e.’ ” Mr. Mullock swallowed and shivered. “Well, 'e was not yet thirty, but 'e 'ad more than one foot in the grave, I can tell you. Leprosy, it might have been.”
“Gracious,” said Lucy.
“The fellow took me in. Such filth. All 'is furniture was gone; not a stick was left. 'E lived like an animal in this shell of a fine 'ouse. I tell you, 'is own waste lay in a fly-ridden pile in the corner. I wanted none of it, and I turned to leave. Then I saw the stone. It sat on a shelf. It sat in the shadows, but—oh!—'ow it sparkled. I asked 'im 'is price. The figure 'e named was better than a bargain. It would 'ave been a swindle to 'ave bought it for that. Then he saw my 'esitation, and he 'alved the price. ‘Take it, Lord Mullock,’ said 'e. ‘I beg you to take it.’ ”
“Whyever why?” asked Lucy.
“Oh, 'e loathed it,” said Mr. Mullock. “ ‘It brings ruination, Lord Mullock. It brings misery,’ said 'e. ‘Misery and suffering and pain and death.’ ”
“I wouldn't have touched it,” she said.
“Hah! You would if you'd seen it. It glowed with light. It pulsed on the shelf like a dark little 'eart. As soon as I saw that stone, I knew it 'ad to be mine.”
He lay there, under the tropical sun, and for a long time he stroked the monkey's head. His fingers touched Lucy's, and hers didn't draw away.
“I paid 'im 'is bargain price. That, and a little more,” said Mr. Mullock. “I 'eld out the money, and suddenly I saw that I knew 'im. I recognized that wreck of a face. Not a month before, this old man and I 'ad ridden to 'ounds together. Oh, 'e'd been young and 'andsome then; I couldn't believe the change. I withdrew my money, and 'e 'owled. Such a cry! Such misery.”
“Was he mad?” asked Lucy.
“Not at all. Up 'e went and fetched the stone,” said Mr. Mullock. “Thrust it at my 'and. ‘Touch it,’ said 'e. ‘Just touch it once, I beg you.’ And I did. It had a thousand facets, Lucy Elizabeth, and in each one I saw a thing I wanted, or a thing I wished to be. Not five minutes later I left that place with—”
“The Jolly Stone,” I finished for him.
Mr. Mullock looked more than surprised. “You know it?” he ask
ed.
“Know it?” I said. “I own it, Mr. Mullock. I held it in my hand.”
“Hah!” he said. “Hah!” he cried, sitting up. “Then it's over. I'm freed from the thing.” A huge grin spread across his face, before quickly vanishing again. “But 'ow do I know it's really the Jolly Stone? Did you find it in the river, boy? In the Thames, near the Tower Stairs?”
“Yes,” I said. It had been exactly there.
“When?” he asked. “What day did you find it?” Then, “No, I'll tell you!” he cried. “It was November last, was it not? No, wait! It must have been the day I was given the boat on Botany Bay. Hah! It was September when you pulled the stone from the river.”
“Yes,” I said, and he gloated. He was right; it had been September. But as surprised as I was, Lucy Beans was even more so. “Botany Bay?” she asked. “What were you doing there?”
“Fishing. Every morning I sailed out and jigged on the reefs. I was…” He sighed. “Well, I was a convict, missus. I still am; you might as well know it, and you can wash your 'ands of me now. I'm an escaped convict, just like the boys 'ere.”
“You were transported?” said Lucy. “For what crime? Stealing diamonds, I suppose.”
“Stealing bread,” said Mr. Mullock. “I got seven years for a loaf of stale bread.”
“A rich man stealing bread?” She sounded unbelieving.
“I wasn't rich for long,” said he. “Not after the Jolly Stone came into my 'ands. Hah! 'Ow my fortunes took a tumble. From rags to riches, I'm back to rags before you say Jack Quick. Along with the stone came the curse, the ruination.”
“But you threw it away,” I said.
“Worst thing I could 'ave done.” He drew in his legs and crossed them. He cuddled the monkey as if it were a baby. “The curse must pass from 'and to 'and. For your sake, boy, I 'ope you've put that stone where someone's going to pick it up.”
“It lies six feet down in a London grave,” I said. “But I'm not lost, Mr. Mullock. Not yet…”
“Hah! Who's going to find it there?” he asked. “No one in your lifetime.”
“I'll dig it up myself,” I said. “I only have to get home to do it.”
“Only 'ome,” he said, with unusual softness. “Only 'alf a world to travel, and misfortune every mile. You've a 'ard road ahead, Tom Tin.”
“Yes, I believe that's true,” I told him.
“Well,” he said, turning to Lucy Beans. “Now you know what I am, do you 'ate me for it?”
“How can I hate a man for stealing bread?” she asked. “Or is there more? How did you escape?”
“I didn't hexactly escape at all,” he said. “I went to the boat one morning, and found six men 'iding under the sail. The most vicious men you've ever seen. They were going to be 'anged that morning, but they killed a priest and the guards, then told me to sail them to the islands. It put me on the run, but what was I to do? It was that or 'ave my throat cut, so out I went to the reefs, and through them and beyond. First island we came to, a month at sea, they set about murdering each other, Lucy Beans. All the time I believed I'd be next.”
I watched Mr. Mullock closely. He seemed to be telling the truth. At least he spoke in a heartfelt way, and I could see that Lucy believed him. So did Boggis, I thought. There was no doubt how Midgely felt. He lowered his parasol, looked toward Mr. Mullock, and told him, “You'll inherit the earth; that's what Tom says. The meek, they always inherit the earth.”
“Well, thank you, son,” said Mr. Mullock, still gazing at Lucy. “There, you know mine, Lucy; what's your story?”
It was much longer than Mr. Mullock's, and not half as rummy. I lost interest while she was still a girl in finishing school, merely dreaming of travel someday. As she rambled through her life, I watched the distant sail gliding slowly along.
All day it was there. At dusk it was beating north, and at dawn it was beating south. I wanted it to vanish, so that we might get on our way and fetch, at last, the elephant island where my father waited. If waiting he was.
Mr. Mullock too looked every so often to see if the sail was there. The one time it wasn't—when the ship was passing behind an island—his face rather crumpled. I saw that, and knew why. He and Lucy were falling in love.
They smiled more readily, and laughed more easily. Hand in hand they walked the island, their joined arms swinging high and fast. I saw them coming over the rise in the middle, Mr. Mullock's hat and head and shoulders appearing, then Lucy beside him, with her head turned up. I felt a terrible jealousy—not that they were together, but that Midgely was with them. He trotted along beside Lucy, holding his white parasol. The ache in my heart was wicked, for I was certain that Midgely had never been happier.
“Is this what it's like to have a mum and a dad?” he asked me. Mr. Mullock was cutting wood for the steamboat. “Is it?”
“I suppose so,” I told him.
“What do you mean?” he said. “You know what it's like; you've always had a mum and a dad.”
I was twisted inside. It wasn't that I envied Midgely; truly, I was pleased for him. I didn't really know why it pained me to sit alone and see the three of them together.
For three days the sail was like a sentry that kept me prisoner. I decided that Mr. Mullock was right, and the curse of the Jolly Stone was what kept it patrolling back and forth in the one direction I had to go. On the third day it was there at twilight. Hours later, in the pitch black, the sky twinkled with cannon fire. We heard the shots in a faint thundering.
“They might be after the junglies,” said Mr. Mullock. “They may be pounding a village.” But all I could think was that—for some strange reason—they were shelling my fa-ther's ship.
On the following morning, the sail vanished. It slipped over the eastern horizon, and didn't reappear at all that day. When it hadn't returned by noon of the next, I said, “It's time. We have to go.”
Mr. Mullock sighed and grumbled. “Tom, look,” he said. “Son, listen.” He put his hand on my shoulder and led me away from the others. The monkey was riding on his shoulder, its tail round his neck like a fuzzy collar. When we'd gone a few yards he turned me round to face him. “I'll tell you straight out, Tom,” he said. “We're not leaving this island.”
twenty-two
WE SAY OUR FAREWELLS
Mr. Mullock wasn't angry. He didn't rant and rage as he'd done before. But I could see that he was deadly serious. “That's the way of it,” he said. “We're not leaving 'ere.”
“Not leaving?” I echoed. “Well, I'm going, Mr. Mullock. I'm going whether you like it or not.”
He looked astounded. “You muggins,” he said. “Of course you're going. It's me who's staying, you chump of wood. Me and Lucy Elizabeth.”
“And Midgely?” I asked.
“Well, that's for Midgely to say.” He was more caring than I would have thought possible. “The same goes for you, my boy, and that juggins too. All of you can stay if you like.”
“You know I can't do that,” I said.
“Well, know this too; you're safe 'ere,” he told me. “That ship 'as done its searching and won't search again. Out there you'll be 'unted. You'll be 'ounded.”
“It doesn't matter,” I said.
“It's you who's cursed now. You see that, don't you?”
“If that's so, then I'm not safe anywhere,” I said.
“Better 'ere than there.” He pointed to the east. “You'll only meet up with more of them, 'eadhunters, cannibals, and all sorts of gruesome beasts. You can't imagine the powers in the Jolly Stone.”
If I had let him talk any longer, he would have kept me on the island. Perhaps that was the Stone at work; it was what the curse was meant to bring me. I squared my shoulders and told him, “I'm leaving. Alone or not, I'm leaving now.”
“I thought as much,” he said. “What you've started, you'll finish. I've seen that in you all along.”
I wondered if he was trying to flatter me. Perseverance was not something I had ever seen within myself
.
“Cursed or not, I can't go with you, lad,” he said. “I can never go 'ome to England. You know the 'ardest thing to bear? That those who knew me will always think I'm a killer. And I'm hincluding you as well.”
I didn't understand right away.
“You're not sure of it yourself,” said Mr. Mullock. “After all that's 'appened, you're still not sure of it.” He sighed. “Well, how could you be? You weren't in Botany Bay when the Gypsy chopped the priest. You weren't on my island to see the madness. You'll always wonder 'ow the Gypsy died. You can't even say what 'appened to Early.”
He was right; I would never really know any of it.
“That's the curse, you see,” he said. “It's why you took the axe from me, and why you made me fear that every night could be my last. It means you'll never trust a soul. If they're not after the diamond, they're after you. I know that, lad; it did the same for me.”
I had never once thought that Mr. Mullock had any fear of me. For the first time, though, I saw that what had happened between us might seem different through his eyes.
“I don't envy you, lad,” he said. “But you're not lost. Not yet. I thought I was doomed to misery, but look at me now. Just days ago I was on a wretched island, in the company of killers, and 'ere I am in the Garden of Eden, with the prettiest woman in the world. What finer place could we choose than this to make a 'ome? Everything we want is 'ere.”
“You don't want very much, then,” I said.
“True enough,” said he. “Only 'appiness and each other. Why, look, it won't be a family we'll be starting. It will be a people, won't it? A whole new world of Mullocks.”
“And a happy one, I think.” I meant it. No matter what he'd done or what he was, Mr. Mullock was a better man than he'd been when I met him.
We shook hands and I left the island that very hour. I had nothing to collect, no belongings to take. I walked down to the boat, and all came with me. Midgely, with his parasol, held hands with Lucy Beans. It didn't seem that he would leave the island. When I stepped into the steamboat, it pleased me that Boggis came right behind me. But it was Midgely I wanted, and at that moment I knew why my heart had been aching so badly. I had feared all along that this would happen.
The Cannibals Page 14
