Dark Before the Rising Sun

by Laurie McBain

  “Here is your embroidery,” he said loudly.

  “Eh?”

  “Your embroidery. You dropped it,” Dante repeated patiently, a gentle expression in his eyes as he stared down on the frail little woman.

  “Very nice, but I have my own embroidery, thank you,” she said in a quavering voice. “You do good work, young sir,” she complimented him.

  Dante glared over at Francis and Alastair, suspecting they would be grinning, which they were.

  With a shake of his head, he tucked the embroidery in the woman’s basket hanging from her arm. Placing his hand over hers, he guided her toward the door.

  Patting his strong, bronzed hand, she continued slowly out the door. Oliver, who had reached her other side, assisted her from the room.

  As the door closed on the two figures moving into the hall, Sir Jacob reached out and added more brandy to his glass, winking conspiratorially at Rhea.

  “Now I want to hear all about this sunken treasure,” Sir Jacob ordered, settling back in his chair as he anticipated exciting tales about pirates.

  Twenty-nine

  Two lads that thought there was no more behind

  But such a day tomorrow as today,

  And to be boy eternal.

  —Shakespeare

  “…and his deck bloodied, he forced that Portuguese to eat his own cut-off ears,” Conny confided knowingly while Robin listened raptly, raising a hand to touch his own ears, pleased to find that they were still where they should be.

  “Really?” He shuddered, his voice barely a squeak.

  “Aye, and that wasn’t the worst of that blackguard’s crimes, either,” Conny informed his friend as they made their way along the narrow path winding toward the two towers standing against the sky in solitary beauty.

  “Aye, he was a mean ’un all right,” Conny said with obvious relish. “All black-hearted men, they were. D’ye know, Robin, there was this one pirate who actually blew himself up right on the quarterdeck of his ship!”

  “He did? What happened? Did he get hit by a cannonball?” Robin asked in amazement.

  “No, he put too much gunpowder in his rum,” Conny said, stumbling with laughter.

  “Ah, come on, ’tisn’t so,” Robin scoffed.

  “’Tis so! Them pirates were famous for spikin’ their rum with gunpowder. Why, ol’ Longacres, the bos’n aboard the Sea Dragon, was a pirate. He was even a cabin boy aboard Bartholomew Roberts’s Royal Fortune. Sailed off the coast of Africa, he did. Of course, I’ve sailed off there too, but not with pirates—though them slavers be just as bad,” Conny confided. “Betcha didn’t know that one of them pirates, Henry Every, was a Devonshireman? They say that when the time came for him to quit piratin’, he sailed from the Bahamas and made port in County Donegal, Ireland. Most of the crew got arrested, but Cap’n Every, his pockets full of pieces of eight, disappeared. They say he was last seen walkin’ the streets of Bideford without a care in the world. Ye don’t suppose, d’ye, Robin, that any of ol’ Cap’n Every’s kin could be walkin’ the streets of Merleigh?” Conny asked. “Why, maybe even some of them pullets chasin’ us yesterday might have been his great-grandchildren, d’ye s’pose, Robin?” Conny asked innocently.

  “Aye, they might at that,” Robin replied seriously. “Of course, some of them look enough like pirates now, what with having to wear black patches over their eyes where you hit a couple of them with potatoes,” he added with a grin.

  “Coooeee, Robin, ye be all right for a lad who’s never gone to sea,” Conny said with a wide grin of his own. It was quite a compliment coming from a lad who had spent most of his life aboard ship.

  “Aye, and ye be all right for a lad who’s still got to learn the difference between the front and back end of a horse,” Robin complimented his friend, ducking just in time to avoid Conny’s elbow.

  The two boys, dressed in loose-fitting frock coats and well-tailored breeches, their silk stockings of the finest quality and the silver buckles on their shoes glinting their worth, wandered along the path, stopping now and again to examine a pebble or two that caught their interest. The towers in the distance loomed even closer as they walked.

  “Think ye’ll have to be leavin’ soon for Camareigh, Robin?” Conny asked sadly, wondering how he’d keep busy when his friend had gone.

  “I don’t know. Francis hasn’t said anything about it. And we haven’t had word from home yet about it. I suppose we’ll have to soon, though. Maybe within a month,” Robin speculated. Although he’d never admit as much, he was homesick, and not just for Camareigh, but for his parents and even the twins. And by the time he returned home, his cousins would probably have returned to Green Willows.

  “Guess ye’ll be comin’ back for a visit sometime, though. Maybe even the duke and duchess might be comin’ too.”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure they will, especially when Francis and I tell them all about Merdraco. And of course Rhea and Dante and Kit will come to Camareigh for Michaelmas and stay through Christmas, I’m sure. So you’ll be coming too, Conny,” Robin said. “And Kirby and Jamaica too, I bet.”

  “Ye reckon so?”

  “In fact, I heard my mother saying to Rhea that you might want to come and stay for a while and study with me. Mr. Teasdale seems to think he could teach you a lot, Conny,” Robin told his friend.

  “School?” Conny said in dismay. “Don’t need any more learnin’ than I’ve already got, Robin,” Conny reassured him.

  “Can you read and write?”

  “Oh, aye. Learned that from Mr. Marlowe. Always tellin’ me ’twas important, especially if I was hopin’ to become a captain of my own ship someday.”

  “How about sums? Can you do additions and subtractions?” Robin grimaced, for that was one of his least favorite subjects.

  “For sure, I can,” Conny spoke proudly. “Used to assist Mr. Marlowe some when he was checkin’ the cargo, makin’ sure we didn’t get cheated. And then the cap’n himself taught me how to read the compass and take our bearin’s and set course. Know all about points, half points, quarter points, and degrees. Oh, aye, I figure I’m as well learned as any that sails the seas,” Conny decided.

  “Can you read Latin?” Robin demanded.

  “Latin? Coooeee, whatever for?” Conny demanded in return. “Know how to speak some French and Spanish, and even a little Dutch. Had to, bein’ in the Indies.”

  “Reckon you could probably teach Mr. Teasdale a thing or two. However, now that Rhea and Francis are out of the schoolroom, he doesn’t have much to do. Figure he might be real happy to see you come swaggering in, Conny,” Robin predicted with a grin, thinking that if Conny did come to be tutored by Mr. Teasdale, those long hours of study might not be quite so boring.

  “Reckon it be up to the cap’n what I do. And he’s a fair one. Knows I’m not in need of any more learnin’,” Conny said stoutly, but Robin had put a worrisome thought in his mind.

  “You know, Conny,” Robin said, reading his friend’s mind, “if you did stay at Camareigh after the New Year, then Butterick could really teach you to ride. And I might even be able to beat you to the top of that tree this time.”

  “Oh, ye think so, landlubber?” Conny said, challenge in his eyes. “Betcha can’t even beat me to them stone dragons,” he called out, running toward the massive stone statues in the distance. But Robin was fleet-footed and had caught up with him by the time they reached the castle ruins.

  “Well, what d’ye think?” Conny demanded between breaths.

  “About what?”

  Conny glanced to the top of one of the towers blocking out the sky. “Reckon we’d have quite a view from atop them turrets.”

  “Race you!” Robin issued the challenge this time and, within the minute, stamping feet and childish voices echoed through the ruins.

  Fe fi fo fum!

  I smell the bloo
d of an Englishman;

  Be he alive or be he dead,

  I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.

  Robin chanted with each step. Hearing that verse, Conny started to sing an old sea shanty he had heard countless times while watching the crew of the Sea Dragon climbing into the rigging.

  Where is the trader o’ London Towne?

  His gold is on the capstan,

  His blood is on his gown,

  And ’tis up and away for St. Mary’s Bay,

  Where the liquor is good and the lasses are gay.

  They were laughing as, breathless, they reached the top of the tower, and they felt as mighty as kings while staring at the rocky shore stretching away for miles in either direction.

  “Coooeee, what a sight!” Conny exclaimed.

  Robin swallowed, for the view reminded him a little too much of the one he’d had from the top branches of that tall chestnut at Camareigh. But conquering his trepidations, he sidled up beside Conny at the edge and, leaning over the parapet, stared down at the waves crashing against the rocks far below.

  “’Twould be a long fall,” Conny said, which eased Robin’s mind not at all. “Probably be flattened like a flounder when ye hit the rocks below,” Conny added helpfully.

  Robin pulled his gaze away from that surging water below. He was beginning to feel dizzy, watching its rolling movements back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

  “Hey, ye’re lookin’ kinda green, Robin,” Conny said. “Here, have a bun. I snatched them from the kitchens while Hallie’s back was turned,” Conny offered, holding the lightly sugared, golden crusted pastry under Robin’s nose. “Freshly baked too. She sure knows how to cook, eh?”

  Robin took the bun, a sickly expression on his face, especially when he saw Conny taking a mouthful of buttery bun. With a feeling of impending doom spreading through him, he took a bite, chewing it carefully. He wasn’t certain he could get it to go down without it coming up again. But after a few minutes the nauseous feeling passed, and he was beginning to enjoy the heady sensation of being on top of the world.

  There was shimmering water as far as the eye could see, and sky with clouds climbing into the heavens. The sea was silvered, with shafts of gold shining through the clouds on the far distant horizon.

  “Guess we oughta be goin’ down now,” Conny said with a sigh, for being up so high reminded him of being in the rigging aboard the Sea Dragon. Although he was still at his captain’s side, he kind of missed hearing the flapping of the sails filling with the trades, and the excitement of setting a new course.

  “Aye, reckon so,” Robin agreed, less regretfully.

  “Want to go all the way down?” Conny asked.

  “What other way is there?” Robin demanded.

  “I mean, d’ye want to go down below, to the beach?” Conny explained. “’Twill be safe enough. The tide’s out. If it were in, well, we could get stranded, I s’pose. But it looks as if there be plenty of beach. Well?” he asked.

  Robin licked his dry lips. Conny was certainly the adventurous one, and because he didn’t wish to look the coward before his new friend, Robin said, “How are we going to get down there?”

  “Look,” Conny said, pointing to a narrow footpath that seemed to drop straight down to the beach below.

  “That’s the way down?” Robin asked incredulously, wishing now he’d acted the coward.

  “Aye, unless you can fly,” Conny answered with a grin. “Race you down!” he challenged before disappearing down the steep flight of steps that spiraled down to the ground below.

  Taking a deep breath, Robin followed Conny, and soon the boys were making their way along the dirt path that led to the beach at the base of the cliff where the dark towers of Merdraco stood sentinel over them. It was a steep path, apparently vertical in some places, but Conny and Robin managed to reach the bottom without serious incident, their feet sinking into the deep sands that covered the small sliver of land that had escaped the hungry grasp of the tide.

  With the energy that comes of pure enjoyment, the boys raced along the sands, daring the waves to wet their shoes, their laughter drifting on the winds like the spindrift being blown about their small figures. And all the while they frolicked in the sands, the clouds at sea blackened and climbed higher into darkening skies.

  Finally, Robin and Conny sank down onto the damp sand, their breath coming quickly as they lay there with nothing more on their minds than guessing what shapes the clouds would form themselves into next.

  “Looks like a dragon,” Conny said, pointing to one especially swift-moving cloud.

  “Do you believe in dragons?” Robin asked, his eyes full of the innocent wonder of cloud-dreaming.

  “Of course! How d’ye think the Sea Dragon got her name? D’ye know what Merdraco means?” he demanded, but Robin shook his head. “The Cap’n says it means dragon of the sea. Mer is French for sea. Draco is Latin and means dragon, but that’s the only Latin I’m ever goin’ to learn,” Conny warned. “There’s even a dragon in the night sky. It lies between the Dippers. Dragons have always been ferocious beasts, just like the Sea Dragon,” Conny said with pride of one who had actually sailed on that almost mythical ship.

  Suddenly their reverie was interrupted by the distant rumble of thunder, which drew their attention to the black clouds hanging low over the water.

  “Coooeee, what a storm brewin’,” Conny breathed, whistling between his teeth as a bolt of lightning flashed through one of the clouds.

  “We’d better get back to the lodge before we get soaked,” Robin advised.

  “Be a while yet, Robin, before the storm hits here,” Conny said knowledgeably, for hadn’t he sailed long enough to predict when a storm would hit?

  They continued to stand there for a few minutes longer, watching the fiery streaks lighting up the stormy skies, and all the while the tide was rising, and the waves were becoming louder and angrier as they were fed by the storm.

  “Reckon we oughta be goin’ now, Robin,” Conny finally said, thinking the storm had built up faster than he had expected. A deafening clap of thunder sounded directly overhead, startling both of them.

  During their exploration of the beach, they had made their way to the far end, which curved up higher than the rest. As they glanced back toward the distant end of the beach, where the path to safety lay, they realized that the tide had come in almost without their having been aware of it. Had it been a normal tide, they might have been able to race past it, soaked shoes and stockings the only casualties. But this was a tide rising with the storm, and it had already covered the sandy shore in swirling water that foamed against the rocks.

  Robin frowned as he stared at the water racing up the beach. “Come on, Conny. We can beat it,” Robin said nervously, listening to its crashing roar.

  “No, we can’t, Robin,” Conny said. “There’s too much of an undertow. I’ve seen those before, and we’d have our feet pulled right out from under us. I don’t know about you, but I can’t swim,” Conny admitted wryly.

  “You can’t swim?” Robin asked disbelievingly. “But you were a sailor! I thought you’d have to know how to swim,” he demanded.

  “If you’ve got a good captain at the helm, there ain’t no reason to be learnin’ how,” Conny replied matter-of-factly. His eyes were gauging the distance across the sands, figuring their chance. He shook his head.

  “Come on, Conny!” Robin yelled, for the sounds of the storm and the sea were becoming deafening. “Let’s climb higher!” he said, for by then the waves were beginning to eat away at their small stretch of sand. They would soon be left without a grain of sand beneath their feet.

  Conny glanced up at the sheer cliff rising above their heads and even he felt a moment’s fear as he thought of scaling that precipice. One misstep and the shore below would become a watery grave.

  Robi
n was already finding a foothold in the rocks, and after a last look at the rising tide, Conny wasted no more time before following his friend. But Conny couldn’t help but wonder where Robin was going. There was only a narrow ledge a few feet above the beach, and he hadn’t the heart to tell Robin that the tide would more than cover that in less than an hour.

  Somehow Robin managed to find enough small crevices in the jumble of rocks to carry him above the water surging around the base of the rocks. He glanced back. Conny had just been caught by a wave, which left him soaking wet.

  Robin’s foot slipped out of the next foothold and he nearly tumbled back down on top of Conny, who had managed to move beyond the greedy reach of the tide.

  “You all right?” Robin asked, ready to reach down a helping hand, but Conny couldn’t hear him. They continued to climb higher until, with a sigh of relief, they spied the narrow shelf that stretched along the face of the cliff. It was safely out of reach of the sea.

  Sliding onto it after Robin, Conny sat down, his tired legs and feet dangling over the edge.

  Looking worried, Conny eyed the precipice rising so sharply above them and knew with a sinking heart that they could climb no higher. Yet they could not stay where they were.

  Robin gasped as a wave splashed over them, leaving him drenched. “That was a big one,” he said nervously.

  “The tide’s going to get higher, Robin. We can’t stay here,” Conny finally found the courage to admit. He felt responsible for their predicament, though Robin had not placed the blame on him.

  “Higher?” Robin asked, appalled, wondering how there could possibly be so much water. Everywhere he looked, it surged around him.

  “A lot higher,” Conny said, pointing to a discoloration on the rocks above their heads. “That’s the tide mark, and we’re sitting below it.”

  Robin’s violet eyes were wide with fear as Conny’s words sunk in, and more so when he glanced along the narrow shelf they were sitting on and saw no place else they could go.