The wind struck the Faraway's close-hauled sails like a rubber sledge hammer, and the Faraway went up on her ear.
Candy had already hooked her feet around the decking stanchion, and she had the sheets and tiller to brace against. As the boat went up, Candy threw herself backward until she was all the way out of the boat except for her legs. She could look forward and see practically all of the centerboard clear of the water. And down where Mr. Jenkins was there was green water slicing over the chain plates and even lipping over into the cockpit.
When the water hit him, Mr. Jenkins began to move. He came up from there on all fours and in a hurry. His face was gray all over, his eyes shiny as glass and not seeing a thing. He looked to Candy like a scared wet rat as he came piling up to the high side of the boat.
She eased the sheets and the Faraway came down again and slid forward. Candy pulled herself back aboard and settled down.
'Tm sorry,'' she said. '1 wasn't watching."
''Well, see to it that you never do that again, miss. We almost turned over."
"We certainly did," she agreed.
''How much farther over could it go wdthout going all the way?" he asked.
"None," Candy said.
"Well, you be careful," he ordered.
Before she reached the end of the long tack to windward she saw some signs in Mr. Jenkins which didn't make her very happy. For one thing, the color around the comers of his mouth began to get a very faint greenish tinge. Every now and then, too, his eyes would seem to get loose and roll a little in their sockets. And he kept opening his mouth and swallowing, as though something didn't taste good.
Candy wondered what was going to happen when she turned the Faraway and began the long run down wind back
to the Bay. She knew from experience that, if you were going to get seasiek, the motion of a boat saihng free was the worst of them all.
She hoped that Mr. Jenkins wouldn't get seasick. It was bad enough just having him there being rude all the time.
Candy watched him anxiously as she turned for the Bay and let the sails out wide.
The waves were high and fast, but coming far apart and in regular lines. Tlie Faraway would wallow in the troughs then, as her sails reached up into the wind, she would go swimming up the backs of the waves. On top she would plane, sometimes for quite a way, before her bow would dip down. Tlien came the worst part. The tiller would go almost limp in Candy's hand and the Faraway would slide down, sometimes almost straight down, slithering like a raw oyster on a block of ice, to end up in the trough as though the water was thin glue.
Five minutes of that and Mr. Jenkins's face was a mottled green, his eyes were glassy and wobbling, and he was shriveling up.
At last he made a faint ''awik'' and managed to get his face over the side.
Candy wondered why she felt sorry for him. After all, she thought, it serves him right for being so mean all the time. But in spite of that she felt sorry for him. She painfully remembered the only time she had ever been seasick and it wasn't funny.
After a while he sat up again and looked at her. Big tears were running down his cheeks and he looked pitiful. ''Can't you make it stop?" he asked, almost wailing.
''Not and get home," she told him. "But I can cure you."
She thought he was going to climb up in her lap. "Can you? Oh, please, start right now."
"All right." Candy reached over and rove the running part of the mainsheet under his arms and around his chest, then threw a bowline in it.
Mr. Jenkins looked down at the rope and then up at her, suspicion flaring up in his eyes. ''What's that for?"
''The eure/' Candy said. "All right, now go overboard."
"Overboard? Overboard?" He reared back. "Certainly not."
"It's the only way," Candy told him.
"Then I'll go ahead and die."
Candy shrugged.
He started to say something, but another attack of seasickness hit him and he rolled to the gunwale.
That one was bad. She thought he was going to get down to his shoelaces if he didn't stop. And he kept on until, at last, she couldn't stand it any longer. She pulled in the sheets and, holding the tiller amidships, she let the Faraway roll up on her beam end again.
Mr. Jenkins didn't make a move to save himself. As limp as a plate of jelly, he went over the side. One flopping foot caught against the mainsheet traveler and Candy lifted it up and dropped it into the water, too.
Turning the Faraway into the wind, she waited, with Mr. Jenkins floating peacefully at the end of the mainsheet.
After a while he began to come to life. He raised his head and glared at her.
"How you feel?" Candy asked.
"You're trying to drown me."
"No, I'm not. Take a deep breath and hold your head under as long as you can, Mr. Jenkins."
He was apparently whipped because, without saying anything, he did what she told him to do. When he came up again, she asked, "How do you feel now?"
"Weak," he said.
"But do you still feel sick?"
He waited, paddling along with his hands as the waves lifted him up and dropped him down. At last he said, "No, I don't believe I do."
She hauled him back to the boat and helped him get in. He
sat for a long time, as though waiting to get sick again. Finally he looked at her. She saw him start to say something, but he looked away and didn't say it.
They didn't speak for half an hour. Then Candy said, ''Here comes a boat. Maybe it's yours."
He didn't even look around.
The other boat got abeam, the outboard motor making a lot of fuss, and Candy waved. The man in the boat waved back and then leaned over, looking. He circled and came close alongside. When he saw Mr. Jenkins, he throttled down.
'Took, Mr. Jenkins. I got her started. She's running like a sewing machine now."
Mr. Jenkins looked at the man with eyes as cold as the frost inside refrigerators, and the man stopped grinning.
'Til get in my own boat now," he said to Candy.
Candy hove to, and the man brought his boat alongside. Mr. Jenkins scrambled over into it and sat down.
" 'By," Candy said, turning to the sheets.
"Oh, Miss Pritchard," Mr. Jenkins called, as the water got wider between them.
Candy turned her head.
''Bring that blind boy to see me. I think Fve got a proposition for him."
Candy just stared at him as the outboard burst into noise and the boat splashed away.
CHAPTER
u
It was dark by the time Candy anchored near the wharf, so she went straight home. After supper, she decided, she would go tell Tony the good news.
During supper her father talked about the progress he had made since the hurricane. Although they were going to be hard up for money during the winter, he thought that by next summer things would be all right again. He was practically starting his business all over again. ''But Fve got a brick-and-concrete warehouse this time and no hurricane is going to knock it down/'
He turned and pretended to be lecturing Candy. ''Don't go running around town buying expensive dresses and things."
"I was just going to talk to you about that, Dad," Candy said. "I need a new pair of dungaree pants—bad. Fm coming all the way out of the ones Fve got."
*'Sorry. No more pants."
"Oh, please—just eighty-nine cents' worth."
"No, sir. Not a cent."
"All right, you'll be sorry when people start saying 'Look at poor Candy Pritchard. Her father won't even give her an old gunny sack to wear.' "
They laughed, and Mr. Pritchard said, "By the way, I asked Mr. Thornton to look into Tony."
Candy caught her breath. ''Mr. Thornton.^ But he's the truant officer, Dad. He'll scare Tony to death."
''No, he won't," he declared. "He only scares you kids when you play hooky. He'll just talk to Tony and then turn in a report to the welfare people. After all, Candy, that's the real way
to help the boy."
''But you ought not to have sent Mr. Thornton, Dad. He's so mean/"
Her father laughed. "You kids have made a bogeyman out of him. Actually, he's a nice guy and loves boys and girls."
"But, Dad, you don't understand Tony. No matter how nice Mr. Thornton is, as soon as Tony found out he was a truant officer he couldn't help getting scared."
"Well, darling, I'm sorry you think Fve gone off on the wrong track. But you know there're laws about children going to school—good laws."
Candy felt all shaky inside. "But he's blind, Dad. He isn't like ordinary children."
"That's why he should be sent to a school especially for the blind. You see. Candy, it isn't doing Tony any good to go on living the way he has—begging, sleeping in holes in the corner, not eating right, and, most of all, not learning how to take care of himself."
Candy gave up. "But, Dad, you ought not to have sent Mr. Thornton."
"Maybe not," he finally admitted.
"If Mr. Thornton scared him," her mother said, "suppose I go to see Mrs. Monroe tomorrow? She's chairman of the Red Cross, so she'll know how to go about helping him without scaring him."
"Do that," Mr. Pritchard said. "Well, I've got to go down to the shop. Want to go along. Candy?"
Candy didn't tell many lies, but this time she thought one was necessary. She was suddenly very worried about Tony. She kept thinking of that piece of paper with "Can't come" on
it. And thinking about the terrible things she had heard about Mr. Thornton. "No, thanks, Dad. I told Dotty T. Td go around to her house tonight."
As soon as she closed the front door, she ran to Tony's shed.
Even before she went into it, she had a feeling that it was deserted. Like a house in which no one lives.
The blanket was gone off the plank bed, an orange crate where he had kept his food was empty. He had left behind the kerosene stove.
Candy was raging inside and feeling afraid at the same time as she went back to Front Street and started for Mr. Car-ruthers's house.
She met him before she got there.
'Tve been looking for you," he said. "MustVe missed you when you anchored."
''Is it about Tony?" she asked.
He nodded. ''I saw him this morning and he seemed frightened out of his wits, poor little devil. He said that your father was after him. What did he mean by that. Candy?"
Candy was on the verge of tears. ''Oh, I don't know. Dad sent Mr. Thornton around to see him. He didn't mean to scare Tony, though."
"Mr. Thornton scares me," Mr. Carruthers said. "Well, Tony asked me to tell you good-by."
"Where'd he go?"
Mr. Carruthers shrugged. "That I don't know. He said that he had some relatives up North. Now that I think about it, I don't believe a word of it. I guess. Candy, that he's just wandered off somewhere."
"Did he have any money? I mean, for a bus ticket or something?"
"I don't know. The last I saw him he was heading out toward the highway."
Candy was suddenly furious. "Why'd you let him go, Mr. Carruthers? Why didn't you stop him? Oh, why did you let him go?"
''Steady on, mate," Mr. Carruthers said. 'Tou know better than I do that it doesn't do any good to try to stop Tony. It only makes things worse."
Candy felt empty and penitent. 'Tm sor^ I hollered," she said slowly.
''Didn't hear a thing. Me ears have been giving me some trouble lately anyhow. Think I'll haul 'em out and scrape the bilges."
"He went toward the highway?"
He nodded. Then he looked at her. "Are you going after him, Candy?"
Candy felt herself getting perfectly still. Even her heart seemed to stop beating. Finally, her voice just a whisper, she said, "Yes, I am."
"If you find him. Candy," Mr. Carruthers said slowly, "bring him back. I'll see to it meself that no one else ever molests him."
"All right."
Candy ran all the way to the highway, and when she reached it the line of filling stations on both sides made her feel helpless again.
Reasoning that if Tony had tried to hitch a ride going North he would have crossed the road, she did, too, and began asking at the filling stations whether a blind boy had been thumbing along there.
She went slowly down the line of filling stations, but no one had seen Tony, or the people working there hadn't been there that morning.
She was getting almost to the end of them when she reached Harry Corner's. She knew him because he fixed bicycle tires for only twenty-five cents.
"Hi, Candy," Harry said, sitting in a rocking chair beside his gas pumps.
"Mr. Corner, have you seen a blind boy hitching today?"
"This morning, Candy. Went North."
Candy's breath got thin. ''What picked him up?'*
"Stan Perkins."
"The gas truck?"
'Teah. Nice kid, too. But if I was bhnd, I wouldn't be out on this highway. I don't even hke to go out on it without being bhnd. I tried to talk him out of thumbing, but he was set on doing it."
''He's stubborn," Candy said. "Doesn't Stan Perkins live at the Magnolia House?"
"Does if he's paid his rent."
Candy thanked him and ran all the way back to the board-inghouse. She caught Stan just as he was leaving for his date. He looked different wdthout the gray uniform and the cap with the gas company's name on it. "Stan, did you give a blind boy a lift this morning?"
"Ssssh. Not so loud. Candy. Boy, if the company knew I picked up a rider, they'd put me under the jail."
"Well, did you?"
"Just between us and the fence post, yes. He went on the run with me and I let him out at Spalding's Beach."
"Where'd he go then?"
"Said he was going North. Last I saw of him he was thumbing at that bridge. That was about five o'clock."
"The long one?"
"Yeah."
"How far is that from here, Stan?"
"Forty, fifty miles. I gotta go now. Candy. I got a date with a gal who flies right straight up in the air if I'm a minute late. Don't be like that when you grow up, hear?"
"I won't," Candy said. She ran all the way back to Harry Corner's filling station.
"Do you mind if I try to hitch a ride here?" she asked. "I've go to get to Spalding's Beach."
Harry got out of his rocking chair and came over. "Listen, Candy, it's night. You ought not to be chasing around the
lOO
country now. Anyway, how do you think you can catch up with the bhnd kid? If Stan let him out at Spalding's Beach, he couldVe caught a lift with a tourist and be two, three hundred miles north by now."
"But maybe he couldn't get a ride. Anyway, I'm going."
'Tou going to ride any hitch you can get?"
"Anything with wheels," Candy said.
"Naw. Naw, Candy," he said, shaking his head. "I can't let you do that. The bus'll be by in a few minutes. You go on that, if you've got to go."
"I haven't got any money."
"I'll trust you for the six bits. And here's six more to come back with."
He put her on the bus, and just before the door of the bus closed Candy called, "Telephone my folks, Mr. Comer. Tell 'em not to worry, will you?" She saw him nodding as the bus sighed deeply and pulled back into the highway.
On the dark stretches of the road Candy twisted her head, looking out the window at the sky. She hoped that it wasn't going to rain, but the sky certainly was getting darker all the time and she could tell by the trees that the wind was right out of the southwest.
The bus driver let her out at the juke on the near side of the long bridge. Candy walked across the gravel, listening to the juke box going full blast inside, and went in. A nice woman came around the tables and met her. "Hello, kiddy," she said.
"Hello. Have you seen a blind boy hitchhiking today, ma'am?"
"No, I haven't. Bhnd, you say?"
"Yes. He had short dark hair and was about eleven years old."
"I'll ask my husban
d."
She came back and said that no one had seen anything of Tony.
Candy went back out into the dark.
What could she do now? she asked herself.
She looked at her watch—five after eight. Stan had let Tony out at the bridge more than three hours ago. If he had caught a ride, he might be anywhere by now. She couldn't think of any way to trace him.
She went out to the edge of the highway and looked along it. It stretched away dark and empty, with no lights of filling stations or jukes as far as she could see. That meant that there was no one else she could talk to about seeing him.
To the north there was the bridge. It was long and gray in the darkness, and below it the wide river went silently along, its surface gleaming like dark oil.
When Candy heard the noise, she unconsciously hunched up her shoulders.
Coming closer, the roar soft but growing strong, the rain swept down into the trees, across the fields. It marched straight up the wide river, ruining the smooth and shining surface of it.
Candy turned and looked at the lighted windows of the juke. But she decided that she didn't want to wait in there. She'd rather be outdoors.
She looked around for some shelter as the first drops began to hit her.
The trees looked too gloomy, so there was nothing else but the bridge.
Candy began to run as rain began to crackle on the bridge. She whipped around the no-parking sign, found a little path leading down to the river and ran doMi it as fast as she could go.
The real rain began to splash on her as she ducked under the bridge. There was thin grass under there and it was dry, but as she went on toward the middle of the bridge Candy wished that it wasn't quite so dark. All she could see was the misty water of the river on her left and the dark gray buttresses of the bridge to her right.
At last she reached a place where no rain fell. Feeling around on the grass with her hands, she rolled an empty bottle out of the way and sat down facing the river and hugging her knees.
Candy; Page 9
