 Chapter 25 of Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson As soon as the night was dark enough, Chris loudly complained of not feeling well. Being hot and dizzy, and in no time Captain Blizzard had, as loudly, told him he was to go to bed on a cot in the captain's cabin. Captain Blizzard closed the door behind him, and in Amos and Ned Sidley's hearing, told Mr. Finney he was very much afraid that, just at a touch of the sun, he was coming down with a tropical fever. Chris remained alone in the cabin from that time, soon, in the cool of the night, with the sailors at the Mirabelle set out and digging into a cascade of fresh water that emptied itself into the cove at its farthest end. Taking with him casks and barrels to replace and ish the dip's water supply, now deep voices swept back over the water to where Chris stood by the empty port of the captain's cabin. He was forcing himself toward the moment when he must ward the vulture. His resolve was held back by his mounting anxiety as to how best to carry out what would be necessary and his strong natural reluctance to leave the Mirabelle. Leave it he must, he stood pondering on what shape to assume, and when he heard the cry of a belated night bird, and saw it coast by on silent wings to vanish in the night, he decided to take that shape. It took all his courage and determination, but this was the first step toward what he had trained for so long to do, and he knew he must do it, and do it once. The boy looked at lost time around the cabin, then spoke the tragic formula in his mind, and within subtle enjoyment in the sense of flight he soared away from the ship out over the cove. The board swept twice around the Mirabelle, rising higher as it went. Below, the few lights of the ship had been carefully hooded away from the sea, and the bird, spiraling lightly on air currents, drifted out from land. The black bulk of the vulture was easy to find in the clearness of the night. She was riding an anchor close in shore, farther down the coast, and final boat loads of men were returning from the merchantment, tearing the last of the spoils. Sleeping by toward the beach, Chris saw that most of the banded crew were already drunk, shouting and carousing around fires where they roasted wild creatures they had earlier killed. He noticed a few Tahitians standing apart at the joining of the palm forest and sand, watching the coarse faces of the drunken men. The Tahitians sinning so well into the beauty of their island, gold of skin and crown and flowers, scaring them with cells with dignity where as far removed as could be imagined from the idea of pagan men. They contrasted sharply at that moment with those from civilisation who in filthy rags of clothes and in disorder of gestures and was as staggered about aimlessly gorging food and drinking. The watching pagans advanced from the brawling pirates back a short distance down the beach where already a few bodies had been lost ashore from the fight. Their distaste and demilitarment were plain. Chris soared high above the din and the smoke of the fires and then seeing Osterbridge-Hawsey being rode back to the vulture followed after. Osterbridge-Hawsey had two baskets at his feet. One was filled with chairfully chosen fruits and the other with the exotic flowers of the island. He easily chained himself into a green parakeet. Chris lighted on the rail of the vulture just as Osterbridge-Hawsey reached the top of the ladder. Determined to make a good impression and perhaps catch Osterbridge's fancy, Chris and his bright parakeet plummage bobbed his head and sidled up and down the ship's rail, eyeing Osterbridge-Hawsey with his head at one one size he had seen parakeets do. They only succeeded for Osterbridge with a cry of pleasure declaring himself enchanted. I must tell the little bird, he exclaimed, and they were only taking off his fashionable hat, even more out of place in the tropics than it had been on the Georgetown docks. He slapped it quickly over the parakeet, which allowed itself to be captured. This Osterbridge-Hawsey's own prize became pro with the light. Clambering as gracefully as possible over the battle-scarred side of the vulture, he took the parakeet gently out from under his tricon. A parakeet as I live! He shrilled, sounding very much like a parakeet himself. My soul, what a prize! He railed on entirely to himself as he turned out, for the sailors were not at all interested in the pet. It's Austin from the battle, or drunk would come, captured wine. All despising the fistidious ways of Osterbridge-Hawsey, they paid not the slightest attention. They obeyed occasional orders from him, for they knew they would be whipped by clag of chew if they did not. And so hauled up the baskets of fruit and flowers, dumped them unceremoniously in the captain's cabin, and lest as quickly as they could to rejoin their shipmates on shore. Holding the parakeet firmly, Osterbridge-Hawsey tied a long silk cord to its right leg, fastening the other end to the arm of his chair so that he could closely observe his new pet. Crystodontic disappointment. As the parakeet, he played the clown for all he was worth. He strutted up and down and bobbed his head whenever Osterbridge-Hawsey spoke, so that it appeared that the brightly feathered bird was in constant agreement with its captor. Or he would caulk his head to one side as if weighing one of Osterbridge's remarks in a truly comical manner. Looking about mean to a while in his black beady eyes, Crystodontic thought that clag of chew was lying in a bunk against one wall, and nothing was left legward given a sword thrust in the fight. He was obviously in pain and perhaps feverish in Osterbridge-Hawsey's childish talk irritated him and bored him so that he turned his face to the wall. Light from the swinging lamp that Chris remembered for many weeks before threw black hollows in a clag of chew's eye socket and a deeply-lined face. Now and again he could be heard grinding his teeth with the pain of his wound. Osterbridge-Hawsey, throwing his fine coat and flumed hat to one side, light-headedly amused himself by trying to tempt his new pet with some fruit. Click it! He cried as if clag of chew could possibly be interested in a parakeet at this point. Do look what I have captured. This is my very own spoils of war. He cried like a chew man in a polite noise and said nothing. Well, Osterbridge-Hawsey gave a shrug as an answer to that noise. You know how I detest fighting. It is vulgar, messy and noisy. I can imagine no possible good word to say for it. And I see no reason why you should not have made them give up their cargo without a skirmish. You said in the remembrance. Now a gentle, gentlemanly fighting for apiol is quite another thing. He went on. He smirked and made a face with his parakeet. Who does it best to research back? That is a graceful and fine art. What he fined and not at all degrading to one's character. No sound came from clag of chew. Osterbridge-Hawsey rattled on and Chris, pecking at the fruit, preferred him. That that sometimes Osterbridge-Hawsey might coarsely talk just as gaily to himself as he did the more unresponsive clag of chew. Claggett, you're a man, rose, rose, rose. Really? They're making an insubmission of themselves on the beach. Just as well there is no one to see, but as an aborigines. Quite revolting. How can you bear to associate with such types when you're so much above them yourself, but then they might not peak your must-die-poor claggett. I'd speck your wounds, mouth, the trifle. Osterbridge-Hawsey turned his face towards Osterbridge-Hawsey, his eyes blazing with rage and his mouth working with the frightful annoyance of an ill man, but he only muttered and turned away again. Do you know his most delicate friend, Perrst? Stretching out at a long finger for the parakeet to perch on, he did his vivid pleasure. Do you know, Claggett, this year at the beach seems to feel less and almost human? Quite touching. He paused, admiring the vivid colours over the feathers which wrapped a woke-up inred feeling in Osterbridge-Hawsey, luring a fine display as he did. I should give you near my little feather-captive, you said, and wondered, I wonder what would be suitable, something French, he waved hand and laced it with the feather. Perrst fell forward, not an overly clean friend. Louis, after the new king? No, that would be too great an honour for so small a belt. God either you are. I think Monsieur, after the king's brother, that's it, little Monsieur, he broke off dreamily, to think that I once knew such a royal, such a distinguished man, he sighed remniscently. For the first time, words came from Claggett, he bit them off as the saying of them cost him a great effort. More extinguished than distinguished, I would say. Osterbridge-Hawsey permitted a sad, condescending smirk I held across his face, and he shook his fist at Claggett. Ah, Claggett, you never knew him, you see. I am sure you would have liked him, such charm, such distinguished, oh dear me, yes, a most unusual royal personage. Osterbridge-Hawsey said, smiling happily at his parakeet, most of them are so much alike. He singled out several fresh fruits, peeling some from Claggett's shoe. Silence fell over the cabinets up for Osterbridge-Hawsey's delicately smacking lips. As he finished the fruit and licked his fingers one by one, the increasingly heavy breathing of Claggett's shoe fell asleep in the distant sound of shouts and clamour from the shore. Osterbridge-Hawsey made a pouting face at the sleeping figure of Chew, as to eventually Osterbridge was bored. He went to the door and clapped his hands, but no one was moaning. But for the few men in the parakeet, the vulture was deserted. Osterbridge-Hawsey came back into the cabin, holding a bottle of wine, which he uncorked and poured into a glass. Chris, foreseeing what would follow, well up to the back of his new master's chair, where he hoped he would be forgotten, and tucked his head under his wing, in case Osterbridge should look for him. Waiting for the right moment was the hardest thing Chris had to do, but he knew as Osterbridge-Hawsey drank glass after glass and his book fell from his fingers, that the right moment would not be long in coming. Mr. Wooker's Window Chapter 25 End Chapter 26 of Mr. Wooker's Window by Carly Dawson This Liberbox recording is in the public domain, recording by Arthur Pianta-Dosing. The tropic coolness of a light intensified as the hours advanced, and added freshness swept out from the shore, carrying its scent of flowers on earth. The piecing pirates had evidently fallen asleep over their food and empty wine mugs, for they did not return. The growing sense of uneasiness cautiously brought his head out from under its jade green wing. He had, for the past hour, the only feeling of being stared at, and he peaked his scarlet and yellow breast feathers while sending a glance about the cabin. He knew, without having anything to look, where the sorts of his uneasiness lay. Cleggachew had turned on his right side and fixed him with a pale, piercing and unblinking eye. So fixed it was that for a heart-thudding moment Chris imagined his enemy to be dead. But after a longer pause than usual, pale, thick, heavy lids finally blinked, though the unwavering eyes had not moved from where Boris was perched as nonchalantly as he knew how to. On the back of Austerbridge-Hausie's chair, the intelligence behind the stair was infinitely keen and resourceful. Chris, preening himself in a difficult of effort to appear what he was not, knew that if Cleggachew had not already guessed his disguise, he was certainly more than suspicious hastily and with increasing sorts of fear that sent the blood spurting through his veins, risked to cast about in his mind as to how he could distract Cleggachew. As a parakeet, he was chained with a tough silk core that bound his bird's foot. He glanced down, Austerbridge-Hausie's now-sleeping head lolled like a child to one side. Chris eyed the length of the coral silk core and then hopped lightly from the back of the chair into Austerbridge-Hausie's shoulder. A blink of his parakeet's eyes from under their grey lids showed him that Cleggachew had been at him fixed in a penetrating and unwavering stare. In his role as parakeet, he moved sideways up Austerbridge-Hausie's shoulder, making for the shelter that at the lolling head would afford to hide him from his enemies' eyes. As he moved step-by-step, the parakeet made small, low, raucous noises, not loud enough to how he can make an Austerbridge-Hausie, but enough he hoped to make him seem a natural creature to the man who watched him so intently. As he neared Austerbridge-Hausie's neck, seeing the ridge of cholera in which he intended to perch, Chris took heart with the last quick effort, climbed the collar to hide behind Austerbridge-Hausie's head under the thick cluster of curls tied with what was now a ratty black bow. He was in his precarious shelter, about to change himself into a fly with a scraping noise, frozen with fear. Looking around Austerbridge's neck, he saw that Cleggachew was making desperate efforts to get out of his birth, but had not taken his eyes from the place where he had last seen the parakeet. Chris knew in that moment what an astute and formidable enemy he faced. Paralyzed, he remained in his green and red parakeet feathers, watching the motions of the injured pirate. Cleggachew might be suspicious, but he was also a fevered and badly wounded man. From his insecure hiding place, terrified at every sleeping movement from Austerbridge-Hausie and even more fearful of what Cleggachew intended, Chris stared out as purposely as Cleggachew had, only a few moments before. The ashen-faced man grossed the room in the glare of the hanging lamp. He heaved and pushed at the sides of the bunk, his eyes brilliant with high fever. The sweat of illness and strain glistened over his bare head and collar of his face. He ground his teeth at the sudden, almost intolerable flashes of pain that gripped him when he moved his leg. Still, he persevered and grasped at a corner of the bunk and pushed himself upright. It was impossible for his white face to become paler. Some last vestige of the color seemed to leave it. Cleggachew threw up an arm to catch on something to steady himself, swayed and closed his sunken eyes. His arm caught the lamp, which rocking through jet shadow was as jagged as its light was harsh. Cleggachew's prominent broken lows and deeply grooved lines running down for a minute into the thin lips under his mustache changed the cruelty of his face into a brutal mask. To Chris, he looked scarcely human. It was a picture of all that was heartless and evil, but holding to the edge of his bunk, weakened and ill though he was, the power of his will still ruled his body. He doesn't know when he's like Chris thought and not knowing he isn't. Then, trying to hoist himself upright, Cleggachew began beckoning and appealing to Austeridge-Hausie and Chris shook at the momentary possibility that some noise or word would make in his sleeping hiding place. Austerbridge! Austerbridge! Cleggachew cried, Wake up, yummy! Fire, take your eyes! You metered his rage. Can you not rouse? Austerbridge! Austerbridge! But after a slight shift in position, Austerbridge-Hausie slept on. Cleggachew was paced a livid with pain. Blood, breathing down his chin, where he had bitten his lip and in an attempt to cycle his groans, managed to push himself up and taught her to a chair against the uncealinged weekly calling out again. Play your bones, Austerbridge! You sot! Help me, you sleazy fashionable! He started to cross the few feet of floor, separating him from his friend and stooping though he was to adjust his height to the low-cealing cabin. Nevertheless, his bulk was a terrifying sight as he stumbled and staggered forward. His hairless head nearly scraped the ceiling and his shoulders were as broad across as those of two men. His hands, white but strong and bony, twitched as the finger ends as if they were unused to idleness without hurting or without the handle of his whip to grasp. Two steps forward, Christot was all like a chew needed to show him where the parakeet had gone. Snatched him up and snuffed out of his life as a candle flame as pitch between finger and thumb. Christ was tearing with his beak at the silk cord on his foot, raking at it between every look he sent towards Claggett's shoe. Christ knew if the pirate touched Austerbridge Haase or worse, felt the l. The touch or the noise would succeed in waking the heavily sleeping phop on the parakeet. Exposed would be easy prey for Claggett's shoe. A captain of the vulture sweat rolling down his tortured face, his eyes starting from their deep sunk sockets with a strain of keeping himself on his feet. Began roaring in Austerbridge once more Austerbridge! Scummy no good wake! The parrot of the Scottish jaws is just a once given boy! Austerbridge! He roared with a final terrible effort. Then everything happened at once. Austerbridge Haase was aroused at last and sat up abruptly. Heavy headed and brewery asking as he Claggett! What that noise? Can't let that man be allowed to doze in peace? What are your manners? In the same instant Claggett's shoe reached out to pluck the parakeet from behind the sheltering head at the neck of the fashionable. Christ with a superhuman effort changed himself to a mouse, tearing his foot from the frayed cord that held it and leaped into the air. Simultaneously Claggett's shoe overcome by the approaching lackness he had been fighting. Crash to the floor unconscious. Chapter 26 of Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson End Chapter 27 Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson This is LibriVox Recording. This LibriVox Recording is in the public domain. Recording by Arthur Pianta Dosey. A mouse streaked out of the door of the captain's cabin and did not stop until it reached the farther end of the vulture and where it hid quaking behind someone else's old shoe. The little creature, quieting down at last and feeling its heart regained a more familiar rhythm, sniffed distastefully at the shoe. It was plain to see it thought that the vulture was an untidy, ill cared for ship. Old shoes were never left lying about in the mirror bell. The thought of the mirror bell brought Christ's mission on the pirate ship into sharper focus. He glanced up at the sky and there was little time left in which to work safely, where Claggett's shoes, sharp eyes had noticed the infinitesimal scar in his cheek and his astute brain had put two and two together. Christ wondered with a sort of horror if Claggett's shoe could read his thoughts and if this was why he had stared at him with such intensity. Well, he shrugged. He knew what had to be done and if he looked quickly and Claggett's shoes swoon lasted long enough, not even he could stop him, looking about to make sure he was unobserved. He took his own shape again with a sigh of relief. It was almost like holding one's breath for long periods of time to be in the shape of a bird or a mouse. But to be himself, he knew, held even greater changers. For the first time he opened the lid of their bag in his neck and felt inside. The first thing his learner was closed on as he pulled out. He turned the object and his palm toward the starlink to see what it might be. It was a folding knife and a case of tortoise shell inlaid with strange signs of silver and mother of pearl. Chris opened it. The blade was razor sharp and put it to experimentally point down in the point of the deck. As if by itself the blade revolved with intense speed, sinking in so fast that only just in time did Chris snatch it out and hold it more tightly. Trying it out, he found that the blade would go through anything. As easily as the scurvy seemed to cut and even no trace of a mark, it was so keen. And other times when he pressed it on it, the blade whirled around. Boring a hole as needed to be necessary. What a useful gadget, Chris thought. This is just what I needed. Now is the time, he said to himself and sprang up the nearest of the ultra's three masts. What he had to do would take long and there was a little tile at that night in which to do it. For he intended slitting the dimensions of the rigging here and there, not so deeply that they would give way at once and he soon repaired. But so that with the first hard blow the lines would break. Growing daylight should have warned him long before he was done for Chris wished also to slit the sails very slightly when they had been unfurled and the vulture was underway. The sounds of voices broke his absorption, his task. Looking down from the top of the main mast where he clung, Chris saw a boatload of returning sailors and realized at the start that it was nearly sun up. In a moment a rat ran down the mast to disappear into the foul smelling hole of the pirate vessel. How long must he wait in the hole? Chris wondered. Although he might be in the shape of a rat, it was only his outward form that had changed. He could not eat grain or rat-y-fuse that was not suitable for a human. He did not relish having to hold his own in a fight with the true rat. There in the darkness he kind of minding boring a hole in the hull of the vulture but decided to wait until the ship was under sail. He bitterly regretted not having brought food with him. Feeling hungry after his exertions about the ship there was nothing else for it but to tie it as safely as he could in his own shape. This he did after a thorough search in his rat form to find what seemed a safe hidden place high on the top of a pile of the loot stolen from the merchant nun. There the exhausted boy curled close to the city's sudden movement of the ship fell into a sound sleep. A dip and sway of a sailing ship cutting the seas and a ravenous appetite combined awake Chris. For the first few moments he was as confused as where he was. Little or no light seeped into the hole and he was further troubled by having no idea how long you might have slept. His first thought was to find food. Climbing down from his sleeping place he felt his way back to the ladder leading up to the deck. A hatch at the top of the ladder was open and through it came a long faded shaft of light and a freshening draught of air. By the quality of the light Chris judged the time to be well along in the afternoon. He was debating on himself whether it might not have changed the shape and gentrified to find something to eat. Went on one of the lower treads at the plank ladder and stood aside of a plate of food. Chris stopped staring for a moment. His mouth watered for he had not eaten in many hours and the sight of meat, bread and fruit was almost more than he could resist but resisted he did for he argued in himself. He said me it may well be poisoned I shall not be tempted unless its clag a chew would like me to be. He therefore left the plate of food where it was hoping the rats would find it long or long and he would have proof through their actions whether or not his theory was right. There Nishata fell over the hatch far above his head beggar's hump he leaned and heard long enough to see what the cripple was about. Lemon was looking down the steep ladder straightening his roomy eyes against the brilliance of a setting sign with one filthy crook at hand Chris crawled nearer could make out what the old man was muttering under his breath. The captain he says go down and see as the food is a hop down that steep ladder I'll not do it he's a sick and fevered man I'll say it was atop the rats will have got it before I get to his cabin mind any case and then who is the wiser besides there's no boy on this ship what a fancy he muttered he is an ill man his own what I have a mind to living as many of his misty as I do ah you know I'm just an anticipation any day Simon Gosler could be captain of the good road churness he says the word hands with satisfaction and turning away to go back to the captain's cabin with his message Chris flew away in the direction of the cook's galley whereas a fly he found it easy enough to eat his fill of meat and what few good things the ultra afforded refreshed he flew hard against the wind in order not to be blown off the ship entirely up to the safety of the heart of the rigging there he could ponder on but he seemed to have been left far behind for the vulture was well out to see and no smallest cloud on the horizon gave any hit of distant land the sailors had set the sails and the good breeze filled the black canvas of the pirate ship the pirates themselves still hurt earlier from having eaten and drunk too much after the day out of the day before more quarrels have been tired from the captain's cabin and the usherbridge hausie's graceful overdressed figure outlined in the doorway on an impulse chris flew down to hear what they were saying thank you for your message usherbridge was saying captain shoes must we leave to have heard it and i think i will now rest and sleep who is it you say who has some knowledge as he rolled his eyes upward and shrugged his expressive shoulders tear me at least to be a saw bones he has a saw he said disdainfully and knows how to drive a nail into a coffin too misnaster wind the beggar enough right usherbridge and saw an anger but she met once and tell the cook as you passed the gallery to make captain some plain hot broth he's much fevered and right to chris for all he had to do without claggett shoes commanding and forbidding presents to pirates would be in a turmoil chris returned to the higher rigging to wait until darkness should be more profound it was not long before the tropic night fell deeply blue in the first hours until the star should give off their eye clear light as it ultra rolled and pitched himself into his own shape then with all the hasty could he moved a hundred feet above the heart dex up the mass and along the sails setting the new life gently here and there to part the fibers of a cloth as he went the lines were touched occasionally in vital spots it took long for it had to be done with care chris made a move without looking down to see whether the torch hard filled days and soon fell asleep on the planks at the open deck only simon gossler hobbled in and out watching a sealer here stealing from another there lifting his head slowly above the window of the captain's cabin to spy on what went on on the side like a dark and malevolent spirit simon gossler crippled in and slipped down to hide behind the third mast as he looked out to see simon gossler might be he could see him nowhere and holding his breath stepped over his two sleeping pirates sprawled on their backs on the deck to reach the hatch of the hold he had one last task to perform before leaving the vulture that hatch top was open laying back as before and chris feeling some danger suddenly ran down the ladder edge then he sensed uneven death at his foot in time to leap as far as he could he reached the last few rungs a ladder for simon gossler stood waiting at the bottom armed with the club which he brought down as a splintering crash on the wooden crossbars as his mouth ran past and left out of sight courses instantly filled the hot air and yelling at the top of its raucous lums for companions to help him in no time figures carrying flaming torches clattered down to the hold and chris his own shape regained knewing would have to be quick as he had never been quick before with a flick the new knife was open in his hand and the blade pressed with all his strength against the hull of the vulture he was crowded into a corner by the flames of the torches and the braiding noise scampered over chris' feet ran up over his bending back and shoulders but he did not move the blade were old in the wooden side of the vulture but it seemed no time before the flicker and wavering red of the nearest torches sent their flares over him from a distance chris could make out the silhouette of hunting figures as the black trickle and the knife on a moment more until the water was a steady spurt wetting his hand with his coolness then as the torches sent their flames moving into the obscure corner where he had been a fly soared up and out over an empty metal plate and four dead wraths over the stoop screaming figure of a hunchback and a scattered line of searching men out to the freshest blue boat scut past back toward Tahiti and only in his befuddled dreams did he puzzle over how the small craft could sail against the wind or wonder how it could sail so well when it seemed made of rope. End of Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Mr. Wicker's Window by Arthur Piant dosing This recording is by Arthur Piant dosing Chris and Amos lay belling down on a low clump of pine scrub at the top of a precipitous rocky peninsula. Below them in the blistering noon lay the plallus walls of the lord of seven seas descendant of the sun and moon before which all cast down their eyes. The emperor of China. The two boys were uninterested in titles. Somewhere within that city within a city inside the enormous spread of the palace walls that were unsurrounded in their turn by the city of Peking lay the goal they'd come so far to seek the jeweled tree of the princess of China. Now like a general planning his campaign how he would gain entry. On regaining the mirror bell and a boat made from the magic rope Chris had reappeared among his friends recovered from his fever. He'd given much thought to what he considered would be the last dangerous section of the journey and after listening to what his master said through the shell was permitted to take Amos on this stage of the voyage. It was reason if something happened to Chris Amos might be able to carry the magic rope as Amos had never really seen a real camel he thought the rope was more quite natural and as remarkable the creature is the real one. Chris took care to make it or disentangle it out of Amos's sight and so many were the strange and wonderful things to be seen that Amos had no time to concern himself over the reality of a camel. The arid country frightened as he pointed out details to Chris. Chris look at that procession going down to the big gate all those pigtails gentlemen dressed in embroidered coats I like that blue one with butterflies on it no I'd soon have that black one sat in one with a dragon on red and yellow he looked again more closely well that one with a peacock and green and purple which would you soon have? Chris paid little attention to Amos's exclamations leaning on his elbows and looking at the crumbly on those last little problems but Amos was not waiting for an answer his mind was on the present moment and the present scene forgetful of what lay ahead of them a few hours away he chattered on I like that funny black hats and droopy mustaches why don't they look like us Chris he asked and then who walls in the cut and stretch are there carrying it's a palachian Amos they carry dignitaries in them hate to be a dignitary at all this heat set on the inviudously what are they doing now he inquired and both boys parted the particularly pine needles to look out and down the later of the procession wrapped three times on great date with his gold staff sentinels and guards came forward walking on the broad gate top and after talking with the members of the procession turned to give an order gaily dressed trumpeters with dragon masks on the visor of their helmets raised brass trumpets roll along throbbing way ho shuttered out in the great outer gates of the palace studied with flooded own sprites of carved metal swung slowly on the outward sixteen men came into sight eight on either side pushing wide the gates gee imagine the weight of those doors Chris murmured and taking out a spine glass through a golly bronze nearly three thick and now they have the gates open look at the depth of the walls there is deep through as a room awaiting procession the richly dressed courtiers and curtain palikin moved inside and the gates were slowly pulled closed by lines of men dragging at ropes and veins to shut them and within the main gate drifting out the sound becoming fainter and fainter of other trumpets running of other gates ten times the boy counted the trumpets blue the same why whoa throb against the siltry air loz me aim aside when no more trumpets were reared ten walls and ten gates at the very least cost we don't know he rolled his worried eyes we don't know where those folks got to the emperor or not like he's in behind a couple more walls he searched his friend's face how are we going to get past all that many gods and trumpets chris even we could tie up a god too how in the world are we going to push open gates that heavy aim is neat not have been so concerned for chris at a good plan but just at that moment the heat overcame chris putting his head down in his arms he slept aim is slept too and it must have been several hours of anxiousness for a moment they both lay rubbing their eyes and peering out then they realized but the growing crowd on either side of the palace gate and along the narrow street leading away from it that something of importance was to come from the palace and parade through the streets a bit peak king wonder what's going on chris muttered as the crowds below swelled and grew boys climbed upon and on and along the street that led away to the right around the palace walls chris and aim as could see embroidered silks hung from all windows and Chinese people in their best holiday clothes lapping excitedly all were looking toward the gates and it last from far within even more distantly than before came the first sounds of trumpets dun dun dun dun he said a sweeter cleaner sound than those never heard as sweet a tone may have said might be way enough silver way they sound the boys counted in twelve times a low lovely oids twelve gates I said and look you were right they are silver trumpets the trumpeteers atop the great hour gates were now differently dressed and there were not two but a dozen lined along the deep palace walls with silver that in the sunlight dazzled the eye as they were blown the final gates were pushed aside a long procession emerged of such fantasy and a variety of color that two boys were spellbound elephants and camels llamas and horses all richly capriciant and eastern silks passed along with their riders guards with curved swords and many thong whips formed a double still letters led leopards and black panthers on chains as an added protection to those they guarded palanquin after palanquin passed by but still the crowd seemed to be waiting for something then as the silver trumpets continued their sweet lingering notes a murmur aroused from the crowd four lines of use proceeded a palanquin more firmly decked than all the rest and the murmur rose with peacock fans on long staves fans of white egret feathers and ostrich plumes dyed a yellow gold Amos chrispry that color yellow is the color of china he did not have to elaborate his thought for the palanquin that finally came in sight showed by its richness that it could stop crystals studied with diamonds and pearls and hung about with sheer curtains of embroidered yellow silk the palanquin belonged without doubt to a young girl of the royal house as it appeared under the high arch of the outer gate or roar of joy and greeting rows from the waiting crowd and with one accord every man bowed low covering his eyes with a wide crown before the palanquin objects flash and twinkled in the sun remembering in time for he had been so much absorbed he had momentarily forgotten it chrispry doubt his spyglass and looked at the curtains of the palanquin the thin silk was transparent enough under the strong focus of the glass and behind it chris could perceive leaning delicately against silk Christians a Chinese girl her eyes were large and dark her skin put in a magnolia flower to shame her mouth was lifted in a charming smile and her long exquisite finger held a spray of jeweled flowers all about the palanquin rained a shower of jeweled buds and petals for no doubt a real flower was thought too inferior for the only child of the descendant of the sun and moon Prince of all peace the princess of China end of chapter 28 chapter 29 Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson this is LibriVox recording this LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Arthur Piantodosi chrisp put down his spyglass and the two boys hidden on the piney knoll watched the procession out of sight I'm supposed to take something from her chris said with his eyes sparkling but I know now what I'm going to give her back and return I feel a sort of sorry for that girl he added thoughtfully what we gonna do chris I just wanted to know what all comes next and have we with them all those dates has passed him some we have to wait until dusk anyway he said he's very subtracted by the look of the light that won't be long the piney knoll was steep and rocky and only two adventurous boys would ever reach the top just precipitous on which to build houses it rose far above the surrounding roofs of Peking the crane and scarlet of curved tiles spread under the boys sight like a curling sea before them stretched out in angular wings to right and left swept the palace walls listening and watching the boys gathered by the silver trumpet notes hollered skate and y'all's by another gate thinking about it chris mused I wonder if that first palanquin held someone she's demerring it could be and so this may be her last appearance to the people of a city before leaving for a new domain she would probably take the jewel tree with her I can't imagine a woman leaving a thing like that behind he paused remembering she held a spray of jeweled flowers well can't do a thing until dust comes down the evening was not long and coming and chris who had been sitting cross-legged into the little crooked pines looked across with great concern to wear aimlessly on his back dozing I can't take him along chris thought and I can't leave him alone if I should get caught what in the world do I do then remembering the bag of magic holds and ends chris put his hand inside it all folded pieces silk and yetting on it a piece of paper like a label showed mr. wicker's fine script chris looked closer in red strike three strike three chris held the folded object in his hand then glanced at aimis aimis slept going softly out of the pine grove to a narrow ledge of rock where he was out of sight chris put the object down and said strike the object remained an object then suddenly understanding chris struck the stone ledge three times once the folded objects began to unfold itself and puff itself up like a little mushroom in a manner of seconds chris could see what it was becoming and before he could wink ten times a balloon with a basket hanging from it quite big enough for two boys hung swaying in the air chris examined it with pleasure and then struck the ground and folded itself basket and all into its original neat shape now if that isn't handy chris explained then looking at the light fading from the sky he picked up the folded balloon and went away and aimis aimis he said shaking his friend's shoulder it's time for me to go aren't you awake chris blinked a few times and said he thought so then listen to me chris told him listen hard aimis sat up more alertly I have a handy thing here which is for you who's only do you hear only if I don't come back aimis's eyes began to get brighter and you swallowed don't come back law chris don't you leave me in this head in the country and nobody understands good English he cried unless I steal and miss beckett told me never to do that but unless I did how could I eat in these powering pots chris sat back on his haunches well I don't know how you could myself but don't you look he yelled at the folded balloon if I'm not back my two sun-ups for now I may have to hide all during tomorrow if I'm not back by then put this package out by on the trees in the clearing that's very important you've got that I haven't got anything but a few dried up fruits that's all that's all no aimis chris gave another rousing shake I mean do you understand that much aimis brightened at once a wide grin oh yes of course why didn't you say so in the first place you said put the gadget out in the clear where's that on this little tippy top of a hill aimis said us looking about the ledge near where we climbed up that's big enough chris reminded him oh yes aimis said looking wise well chris took up again you put the package on the ledge and strike the ground three times like this before chris struck the earth beside him twice before aimis just raised his hand in the air aimis not now I said only if you have to get away if someone comes after you or if I don't come back promise me not to strike three at all except for either of those two reasons aimis raised his right hand very lean very solemn I promise you said only he added looking bewildered and already said what for our lord what happens a special kind of balloon chris began after correcting what had almost been a bad slip oh what aimis stuck ahead his head forward trying hard to understand a balloon oh chris stopped and stared at aimis perhaps balloons had not yet been invented very confusing it's something that will hold you up in the air there's a basket for you to sit in no sir aimis cried wagging his head decisively from side to side me in the air over the whoops and high up no indeedy chris not me chris was becoming exasperated he had important things to do look aimis if you have to use it it'll be in such a bad fix that being up in the air will seem like the very best thing that could happen stop running I'll be back I hope he turned away toward the legend clearing and now wish me luck and stay here and wait for me don't follow me now or watch aimis jumped up from the pinecury grounds oh chris he cried his voice sharp with its rest can I go? you might get hurt there's no teller what could happen if you were all alone chris was tempted to take his friend with him but someone must get the use back to the mirror bell if he should fail if this happened he did not doubt that the magic balloon would carry his aimis safely to the ship no he said after a long moment better not but I'd sure like to now don't lose that package if your it's your escape wish me luck aimis clasped his hand and then rushing off daxed back again here chris our fruits better not to eat strange food in his foreign place good luck he added chris stuffed the fruit in his pocket aimis turned back into the darkening pine knoll and first pushed his way out to the steep ledge hanging high above the roofs of the king chris unfurled the old magic rope was wasted standing as far out on the rock ledge as he dared in order to have the greatest possible freedom of movement he attempted for the first time to draw an eagle in the air with his rope it was a complicated fast maneuver the rope twisted and whipped in the air and the result was a molted looking droop-tailed buzzard its wings were not wide enough it's back very insecure to look at against the oncoming darkness and this time he succeeded although when he pulled it close and straddled the body of the magic bird his heart was in his throat that it might unfurl itself become just a rope and hurl him to his death far below this second eagle seems secure enough chris pressed his hands on the wings spread out on either side the jolt they flapped and the boys strange couldn't advance move somewhat unsteadily in the direction he wanted to go the magic eagle would turn and after a few moments to test out his new method of travel chris coasted over the gamie tile-roops that he hunted for something peking at that time had many palaces wealthy Chinese and people of title and family own beautiful houses set in terraced gardens surrounded by parks and ancient trees somewhere chris had heard of this and remembered it and now over the city as he looked for what he wanted to find at last the very fragrance rising up towards him on the night air guided him to a large palace set in gardens pools of water reflected the first stars among their lily pads the shaded walks and lawns were deserted at that hour swooping down and flying back and forth to make sure he would not be seen chris grounded the eagle and hurling fast to one million tip around examining and searching end of chapter 29 chapter number 30 of mr. worker's window by carly dawson this is liber vox recording this liber vox recording is in the public domain recording by arthapiantidosi the night was too clear to suit chris for the dangerous work that lay ahead the eagle bore him it up again from the garden and turning back he lifted high in the air as it neared the maze of walls of the member's palace chris longed to fly lower but he was afraid that one of the many guards might give the alarm the eagle flying between the palace and the moon cast a quick racing shadow over a wall and ground the one advantage on such a clear night chris thought wouldn't he could easily easily spot it was in the silence of the magic bird he bent over to peer down between the eagle's wings wall after wall palace and garden within palace and garden he saw windows were lit like fireflies with marble with him and the series of courtyards opened themselves and seemingly endless duplication how he wondered could he ever find the inner garden well hidden certainly where the princess of china walked under trees and looked at her goldfish in long clear pools then he remembered with a start the folded paper and a ship anchored on the botomac a cabin under a smoking lamp the strong scent of flowers a monkey's form came back into his memory and he felt in the other pouch for a flag of shoes plan his fingers touched it and brought out the creased finger scrapped scrap of paper in the moonlight he unfolded it sitting on the eagle's back high above the walls and palaces of the emperor of china he found that he could follow from his height to the courtyard after another moving cautiously forward in the air he looked at the heavy cross mark made by claggett shoe the night the mirror bell had set sail then all at once beneath him brisk made out walls ahead that seemed higher than the others he flew over temples with gently rocking bells hung at their curled caves and over peaked rooftops of curved stone till reaching a place apparently identical with a cross on the map he dared to drop as he did so he saw that the guard houses were set about owed on the top of the wall which measured about ten feet from side to side all faced outward away from the gardens they protected hidden now in shadow why it's like a prison chris thought except that the guards aren't allowed to look down at her poor kid imagine living here all your days no wonder she was pleased at being in the procession yesterday no fragrance except that of cool water came up from the courtyard to chris going higher into the air he hovered there on his eagles back watching the guard houses he timed the guards counting after an hour he found that there was two minutes between the time guard six reached his posts and guard seven went back to replace him chris waited again watching the guards and counting half allowed in case he missed the two minute interval one there he goes across to two three there three marches along to guard house four four there he goes to five chris's breath came quickly and his heart began to pound into his ears five five starts out towards six six and now they changed swords or something and here I go nothing on the back of the eagle the bird sank slightly into the black well of the courtyard past the guard house and down he walked back to replace guard number six the walls of the princess's courtyard were indeed as high and forbidding as those of a dungeon a shimmer of water reflected the night sky and looking down chris saw a dark and glistening mask beneath him it seemed to be trees but when his tangling legs touched them sharp edges cut his legs and he quickly veered away last coming down at the edge of the pool his eyes became used to the gloom and he could see trunched under his feet and glowed in the night and bending to touch it chris's fingertip came away and dusted with gold golly moses he breathed and looked about the edge of the long rectangular pool was of silver the walk around it of jasper and chalcedony and as he lifted his eyes looked farther he saw that the whole entire garden was made up of trees with dual leaves no wonder the leaves cut my legs chris thought himself growing the eagle by its beak he wondered about there were neither grass nor flowers no true plants or trees all bushes boarders and shaded walks were of jewels they gave out onto the air no scent of reed and no welcoming scent of flowers chris chris almost said aloud who'd want to play on ground up gold well I accepted it's yellow it might as well be gravel and no trees she must be a pretty measurable girl I wonder if birds like the jewel trees looking into shrubs of coral or jade or amethyst chris down no nest and shook his head guess I brought the right replacement after all he decided now to work which shall I take he made a tour of the jewel gardens and at the end of the pool facing a car of jewel doorway and the windows of a pillion set into the surrounding walls chris found a tree he thought right and answered mister wicker's description a month ago leaves of emeralds bonds of diamonds flowers of sapphires and fruits of rubies such thick with pearls taking out his magic knife and in second chris had cut away a large circle of earth and a tub shaped and sheltered the roots and carrying his heavy burden to the eagles back there he took off something which he planted where the jewel tree had been and cupping his hands watered it from the pool as best he could just as he finished and was moving away a movement in the blackwork tangle of a pillion door at the end of the garden caught his eye he had only time enough to pull the eagle the jewel tree and himself into the cloaking shadow of a nearby avenue of emerald trees to avoid being seen the movement was pale and slight against the blackness of the open door and night was very still moving on the night air as if that had been the signal he had long waited for a dusk-colored bird flew down to perch on the thorny stem was nightingale its song started softly and softly at first and then as if it forgot it was alone the lovely variations grew peeling out where no bird song had ever been heard before Chris was not the only one who had never heard a nightingale to the other and more beautiful than anything she had ever heard the princess's tiny feet made no sound on the gold gravel as she edged nearer to the bush and the song at last the nightingale flew away in the scent of the roses drifting toward a princess who had been only been permitted flowers of stone was overwhelming she went up and broke off a flower as red as a ruby and as red as her mouth as red too as her blood for a thorn stabbed her and she nearly cried but the wonder if it was stronger than the pain she buried her face in the freshness of the red rose the first flower she had ever seen behind her rising gently and quietly out of sight was a smiling boy and a tree of jewels she would never miss Chapter 30 End Chapter 31 of Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson this is LibriVox recording as in the public domain recording my orthopedic dosy Chris's thoughts were so taken up with the pleasure of the little Chinese princess into the first rose that he had miscalculated as a matter of fact he had forgotten about the guards and his incitement and holding the jewel train and getting away and just as the eagle rose to the top of the wall one of the guards saw him had it been earlier Chris could have risen quickly out of sight but the jewel in itself the earth holding its roots was an additional way so that the eagle only rose half as quickly as it had before the guard gave a shout and a spear whisked past Chris is here instantly the flames of bonfires spurred it up on all the walls and as terror Chris found himself in a glare of light as powerful as modern searchlights he clutched the jewel tree urging the magic bird up but there were limits even to magic and the bird was moving at the peak black racing figures darted along the walls the flames of the notch buyers were up higher in the air and now arrows were singing their heaning note of death about the boy lifting so slowly into the night Chris crouching behind the jewel tree was rocked and nearly unseated from the eagle when an arrow hit the earth around the tree roots embedding itself deeply and quiggling at an angle the shouts and confusion grew but after a few minutes it was high enough to be out of danger he gave a deep shuddering sigh of relief and turned the head of the laboring eagle toward the city and the shouts were on escape but first he did a duty that as an honorable person he found a bound of form he was naturally observant he had also made a point of noticing landmarks so he found the garden from which he had taken the rose bush without too much trouble he had taken an alarm and the whites of flares and lanterns flew him from every house nevertheless to replace the rose bush was an honorable necessity and in spite of wide canary yellow blocks streaming from the windows of the lesser palace and sprawling in broad sections over the lawns and far into the gardens Chris came down as much in the shadow of trees as he could breaking off a sprig of the jewel tree stuck it in the ground where the rose bush had been then quickly regaining the eagle's hair and up over the roofs what was his consternation however on nearing a pine mill to see the whole group of scruffy trees of flame and no sign of Amos the pine needles and trunk stick with resin burnt fiercely Chris did not dare to come too close not only was the heat intense but the clouds looked upward to watch in a puzzled way while others ran from near the palace gates to gaze and speculate the guards cheers for Amos running down his cheeks his head constricted and his eyes half blinded when from a great distance you're at a trailing call oh Chris you Chris Chris's heart lead up and wiping his eyes clear he looked in the direction of the sound a balloon was moving rapidly away over the peaked curved roofs of Peking careering slightly from side to side as he'd holding onto the edge of the basket Chris breathed out what on the world goes on Amos I thought you were burned alive was never scared scared of my life Amos' eyes wider than ever from the incitement events batted at Chris you're scared what do you think I am get me out of this I never didn't want to be up in the air know how and I want out now what about the fire Amos Chris persisted holding onto the jewel tree with one hand how did you get out Amos sent a squeamish glance out of the corner of his eye at the moving ground beneath him and then realizing they were on their way back to the mirror bell swallowed and began to talk I waited like you said and I guess spent a sleep all at once such a noise and flames flashing woke me up and right away seeing flyers and the motion all over the pallet's walls I suppose they had spotted you somehow I thought should another fire pallet to make them think something was going up on up here so I lit a fire with my flit and then ran right quick to the passage ledge struck three times shut my eyes here Amos covered his eyes with one hand and got in in the silly things we had tipped and had eaten her and ever since Chris bought balloon and eagle down into a rice field and the two boys transferred the jewel tree to the greater safety of the balloon basket and sat down beside it where he soon fell asleep Chris tying the tail of the eagle to the side of the basket with his shirt towed Amos and the jewel tree through the air all that night and all the next day they came down at noon and deserted part of the country so that Chris could sleep and rest and Amos find fresh water for the leather and bottles they had strapped to their waists then they went on until they saw the sea slightly down at dusk the balloon was folded into its small size and put back in the pouch around Chris's neck out of sight of Amos Triss transformed the eagle to a boat in which in the dark of the night the two boys reached the side of the mirror bell with their precious cargo the sailors to the mirror bell were asleep but Chris roused the captain who helped them secretly carry the jewel tree to a corner of his cabin the mirror bell had left the coast of China and was well out to sea end of chapter 31 chapter 32 of Mr. Wooker's window by Carly Dawson this liver box recording is in the public domain this recording is by Arthur Piantidosi was not until Chris relieved proud and happy at the success of his mission opened his vibration of trouble or danger until then he had lived breathed and thought only of obtaining the jewel tree and once that had been accomplished he felt that his exanities were over however he shut and locked the camondore behind him feeling with an increasing zest the surgeon rocked the mirror bell under his feet as he plunged through the sea something brought him up short and he took the glow but he almost knew before he heard it what Mr. Wooker would say nevertheless when through the worlds of the shell and his ear he heard the familiar voice so far away and so long unheard his lies lit up again who have done better than my fondest hopes Christopher my boy hey Mr. Wooker's voice I cannot commend you enough for the success of your difficult mission and the manner in which with which with which in fortitude he met much to be praised too he is an loyal friend and I was proud of him as well as of you Chris kneeling by the brass studded chest the shell held to his ear could easily bring for his inner eye the cozy room in Georgetown the crackling logs upon the hearth and the voices Becky Boozer raised in lusty song coming from the direction of the kitchen he missed it much as he loved the mirror bell and much as he prized the friendship of all aboard here he held a special place in his heart and he longed all at once with almost intolerable sharpness to be at home once more that his mother was getting better he had never doubted but kneeling there alone he suddenly wanted to have done with adventure for a while my boy are you listening came Mr. Wooker's words and Chris's thoughts brought him back and the jolt to the cabin have you forgotten the mulcher? no he answered from the boy not all together that's just a little yet make no mistake the captain of the mulcher has not forgotten you nor has he undone this apprehension as to who it was who was going to kill all these ships leaving the beach picking before you Mr. Wooker's voice took on the edge it always held when he spoke of Claggett Chew Claggett Chew for you beyond Shanghai the East China Sea be wary and the rest of her for you all have some battles such as you've never dreamed of even I cannot tell how it will end it will depend on your quickness and ingenuity and do not forget the leather pouch the voice of his friend hesitated and then said so frequently and from so far that it was all Chris could do to hear it I repeat the voice faded away and Chris with heavy gestures replaced the shell the lid of the Chew chest and unlocking the door with the dragging feet to tell Captain Blizzard what awaited them the wind was only moderately fair so that the Mirabelle took some time passing beyond the Yellow Sea during those days Chris practiced his magic with more concentration than ever before he rested and slept ate hugely and exercised by climbing up the mass of the Mirabelle so that by the time along the dark line towards the Shanghai Chris was fit and well as he had never been before Worn by Chris in time Captain Blizzard on hearing of the dangers ahead had determined to put it into port at Shanghai and there with much haggling and bargaining bought four cannons and ammunition he also laid in a store of swords daggers and sorted weapons for all on board believing that an ounce of prevention was better than a pound the day thereafter this, the weather being fair and the ship being only the helmsman and look out to care for her the sandlers were quite willing to do more, especially when their captain in whom they had unbounded faith told them he had a good reason to believe they would have a nasty and perhaps disastrous encounter with that pirate ship during which they'd been and fair to be bested if they did not by their friends braced in the rigging the dummies were suddenly swung out and down in every direction imitation of pirates boarding the ship and were fallen upon by the sailors of the merit bell with roars of glee as if they were at that very moment being tackled by the pirate crew then they practiced fast turning and tacking of the ship and even in between regular hours set aside by the captain for what he termed fighting time several groups of men could always be seen on some part of the deck practicing dueling with sword and dagger in short long before the merit bell reached the east dynasty its crew had become proficient in all manner of hand to hand fighting the merit bell was level with the Ryukyu islands in a justy glary day when look out slowing down cry bye floated down the crow's man was at the ship's side stating his eyes against the dazzle of what made a brassy light over the sea and sky the Ryukyu islands off the port beam were not visible in the metallic haze that grew on this the sun arched higher the fitful wind gave promise of stopping all together and leaving both ships be calmed Chris on the bridge beside the captain looks to looking through his spyglass advancing sail carrying the Chris yes the boy said at last I'm sure now I ought to know those sails that are mistakable that is the vulture sir captain blizzard wheeled about for the last word and left Chris's lips and bell at the top of his lungs all hands on deck he wrote man the guns bring up the ammunition and every man to his place the training and the men had gone through instantly asserted itself although there was a great deal about up and down the ladder the hold and of handing of the ammunition all was orderly and on an extra word misspoken there was little enough time left over however the vulture approached rapidly and then crossed the bow and the Mirabelle so narrowly that the Mirabelle had to put hard about and captain blizzard roared orders to take in sail in order not to smash into the pirate vessel before it had been carried by the breeze beyond its prey this maneuver momentarily threw the Mirabelle's crew into confusion and turned their attention to the hasty management of their ship to chris working with the men at whatever was most urgent it seemed only an instant before the vulture was again alongside the Mirabelle and clagged shoes stood on the gale on whale hailing them he too yours have sink to the sharks he cried looked yourself pirate and then blizzard thundered and reply and giving a signal the unsuspecting car urges clagged shoe was knocked back to the deck of his ship and chris had time enough to see him shake off the hand of a sailor who would have helped him to safety chris also saw peeking out from the doorway of clagged shoes captain the white horrified face of Osterbridge Hossie Hukoo could not stand inside the blood so common they'll face with drew and chris could imagine the dandy playing cards with an all taken aback by the unforeseen presence of guns on board the Mirabelle were tough fighters notwithstanding and moved the vulture in even nearer till the two ships with fallen mass and entangled rigging were locked on the brazen sea and deadly struggle brave as the semen of the Mirabelle proved themselves to be the pirates were seasoned in pitiless combat the guns of both ships roared and coughed and finally chris could bear it no more the crew of his ship were weakening even as were those of the vulture and shuddering though he was at the nose dot of sharks in the sea he knew he had to use every method in his power if any on board was his five keeping his own form he jumped into the blood-tinged water his magic knife opened and ready in his hand chapter 32 Mr. Walker's window and chapter 33 of Mr. Walker's window by Carly Dawson this slipperbox recording is in the public domain this recording is by Arthur Piantadosi the smoke of the guns of both ships so hung upon the air that chris counted on its heavy curtain to screen him from his enemies he swam to the far side of the attacking vessel and there forced his magic knife for the second time against the side of the vulture he was treading water holding to a rope that dangled over the side of the ship when with no terrier tremor of warning a cut that he almost thought had penetrated the bone lashed across his shoulders nearly missing his left ear without stopping to think chris took half a breath and submerged as deeply as he could go hearing about of him chris would have dived under the great barnagled hull of the vulture then and there to come out upon the other side but good swimmer though he was he was unsure that he could hold even a few breath for so long to dive added to this he had had no time to do more than gas but romantic breath of air and even as he rose to the surface with bursting lungs and food itself above the water it was the sinister trying with a shark's fin cutting the surface of the seas at advanced but terrifying speed to where chris gazed almost paralyzed with horror lusting the knife into the pouch at his neck chris took the shape of a dolphin and plunged deeply even as the infuriated shark was carried over and over beyond him a chris lung jaw racked above and below with dandy teeth the shark in one long bar of movement had turned and gone under the dolphin which now raised toward the upward from the dim lightless depths of the sea to the surface where it hoped to escape the shark turned on its back with the motion once lazy and sickening in its assurance of its prey under the water certain of snapping its adversary in half but in that one movement where it turned belly uppermost its eyes were unable to watch its go and in that moment the dolphin took it desperately for the water and the seabird soared into the air the seabird had no more than a wheel to sight the shark below and a scream from the air about it spread with hatred plunged down from a great height its beak opened to seize and to rend the seabird veering away on the wind became a fly the shark instantly vanished to be replaced by a bat it started after the fly with such velocity that it was the current of air from its wings that drove the fly closer to the pirate ship with a despairing effort the fly moved directly into the smoke of the battle being in all its limbs its pointed teeth shattering with fright finally regaining its breath adventured to look around the corner all seemed serene to the mouse who saw no shadow of danger although sounds of battle still ebbed and flowed on the deck below it crisscrossed by shouts and orders screams and groans as the pirates and the sailors continued its work with a magic knife which had been interrupted it though too soon to have done any good at last it decided to run along the deck near Claggett's shoes cabin from there it hoped to reach the side of the ship nearest to the mirror bell as it slipped from its hiding place and began its run and he realized too late its mistake and panic almost overcame it for a cat had been crouched behind it and it now gave a mighty pounce one outstretched the mouse wrenched free and desperate and panting dashed into the first opening it saw this proved to be no less than Claggett's shoes cabin the door of which had been left open so that Austeridge Hauzy could watch the fight with the least possible discomfort he sat somnolent in a comfortable chair his long tail behind neath them the frantic mouse now determined in the seconds left for its decision to attempt a bold move in a flash in fact as the yellow cat with hungry yellow slitted eyes put its head about around the door jam a jade green parakeet with red and yellow breast feathers hopped onto Austeridge Hauzy's ankle with the speed of those clawing paws outstretched to fall upon the bird the parakeet fluttered into the air out of reach and came down higher upon Austeridge Hauzy's knee Austeridge startled from his daydream shewed away the cat and got up precipitiously enough to give it a kick which meow from the cabin Austeridge vastly pleased as he has bring Parakeet again with wreath didn't smile oh no he exclaimed holding out a condescending posture back again was simply simply enchanting this went for Austeridge was so bold and had no one to talk to well not pretty and both Austeridge and the parakeet caught their eyes to one another and we have you been I wonder Austeridge examined the little bird perch on his finger and his eyes were thought it is true you have a little remark on the side of your jaw and Parakeets have jaws my friend but there's no such thing as magic nothing kind of magic whereby human can design something else he broke in the peels of high laughter what a joke if it were possible no what could I be he looked fondly at the bird and the bird looked back at him daring it open its beak and a minute small bit clear go go yourself returned Austeridge in high good humor kneeling back in his chair changing train of thought he pursued if I could change myself what should I be he felt amusing and says he did so the dreaded shadow christened anticipated fell across the doorway a moment later a collected shoe limping from an old wound in a newly received brew stood in the entrance Austeridge as he yawned oh there you are at last claguette he said but the river it sounds rather ferocious to me but of course I'm not expert haven't forbid Austeridge ended rolling his eyes toward the ceiling with his vague smile as how like a shoe did not reply Austeridge looked back at him the pirate's eyes were clicked on the parakeet and its twitching fingers played with the steel tipped whip like a shoe's voice when it came was as sharp and as cold as a dagger and a dead man I will have to burn Austeridge he said Austerbridge's expression did not change but his eyes did and they became almost as icy as claguette shoes oh no you will not claguette he said and its high pitched voice managed to be serrated as sarcasm this is one thing that is keeping them from alterable boredom when you go into your intermitable fight he paused to give claguette terribly degrading though I can see it has its sacrament and rewards but it is unnecessary claguette shoes eyes in a way of not blinking they held a crocodile fixity his tone when he spoke again did not vary I am not a trade Austerbridge nor shall I mend new words with you on this subject give me that bird arises ticket from you Austerbridge hazy rose with the slow grace from his chair his hands curled gently but protecting me around his parakeet claguette he said in his thin voice that cut now with the unexpected thinness of paper I am sorry to say such a thing to you but your fever during the weeks just passes undoubtedly altered your brain you are a madman claguette Austerbridge stood up on the other side of the cabin table over which hung the swinging lamp he did not turn his back to claguette shoe nor take his eyes from him you went on and took quiet a voice to be otherwise and poisonous until you are more yourself your conduct and tone are becoming a gentleman Austerbridge said with his hand held high and a head clay faced pirate roaming so high and so huge in the doorway that he filled it all together his clothes torn filthy and stained in battle and Rome care this weeks at sea his companion was a travesty of his one-time elegance dirty lace ruffles spotted by forgotten meals his velvet coat no longer curled with such fine exactitude both men had been housed together for too long long ago they exhausted all topics of conversation their two different personalities had for months been festering each at the sight of the other now collegate shoe ground out between his clenched teeth remain do not defy me and do not give up that bird as hell as my witness I just snatched it from me with his whip and nothing was stopped me Osterbridge reached behind him with his right hand holding the parakeet and increasingly uncomfortable and tightening grip in his left on the wall behind him hung his rapier and its scabbard with a quick deaf movement Osterbridge his fingers had found the hilt and drawn the rapier out his face snarling his eyes expressionless they were fixed on collegate shoe who had not moved from where he leaned against the side of the doorway Osterbridge Haas his voice was almost more frightening collegate you may order your scurvy men about what you wish athletes rascals thieves and murderers who know no better than to do your beating knowing that they will die with your hands as they sometime or other but you have met your match I Osterbridge Haas he shall not give you into a madman in a ungod he cried whisking out the rapier shh as he did so such is the force and training of habit his left hand automatically came to the first position of the fencer and the duelist and as he came up and the fingers slackened about the parakeet the long whip lashed out curled around Osterbridge Haas's hand the parakeet ducked into uncircling fingers Osterbridge Haas more of a rage than a pain and opened his hand the parakeet liberated flew straight into the face of the man with a whip pecking at it with its sharp beak scratching at it with his pin-like claws and beating its wings in such confusing fury that the pirate bobbed his head the same time the big man stepped backward as throwing up his left arm in an attempt either to catch the bird or drive it off the bird's attack blasted for only a moment then he grasped at it the parakeet was off over his shoulder and lost in the din obscurity of the battle behind it he heard the cries of hatred and rage as the pirate and Osterbridge Haas he faced one another in the cabin to fight with whip and sword amid the crash of overturned tables and chairs and a splintering crack of the lamp and the windowpane chapter 33 end chapter 34 of Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson this is a LeBervok's recording is in the public domain this recording is by Arthur Piantidosi safe on the Mirabelle Chris exhausted and increasingly conscious of the pain of the whiplash took his own shape with size of frankfulness and looked about him a wind was rising rocking the interlocking ships and you could see clearly that the crew of the Mirabelle had done enormous damage to the vulture and its attacking men cannon shots from the opening sally and at such close range it broke two of its three mass and the decks of the vulture were a clutter and tangle of lines sails and splintered spars the fact that the men of the Mirabelle were in better physical shape than the pirates stood them in good stand but their agility of the men the pirates could see were turning back and those who still fought were one and all wounded or grazed and moving around with every passing moment Chris had been so terrified and penned stricken by his own personal danger and fight for his life that took him a few minutes to catch his breath and grasp the situation from where he stood on the captain's bridge wondering if he still had the strength of force a leak on the vulture's hull as he had begun to attack for the knife at the bottom of the pouch his fingernails had a gritty substance and into his head came an echo of Mr. Walker's words remember the leather pouch taking out the knife the folded balloon in the map of where the jewellery had been Chris leaning against the side of the Mirabelle shook out the grainy stuff into the palm of one hand it looked like ground up unregulatively in his hand wondering how he was supposed to use it a few grains sifted between Chris's fingers and fell over the side into the sea instantly as soon as they touched the water several intestinal flares started up burning on the waves as hurriedly as if they had fallen on a dry grass and their heat produced a stinty mist which rose in heavy swirls from every grain then Chris knew it was four checking every particle to find Captain Blizzard Sir he cried as soon as he was in an inshire shop the pirates are bested and we can make a safe escape if you give an order to set loose the grappling irons and lions and better men raise sail you look diggily at Captain Blizzard the pirates look pretty tired now but the vulture might pursue us if we don't know orders were quickly given to cast off on the pirate ship and Chris disappeared to a siden corner there he hid everything the leather bag contained except the grainy powder next taking a bag from around his neck and leaving the mouth of it wide open he changed his shape into that of a seagull taking the pouch and his beak inside flagged shoes cabin but the pirate cruising grateful enough to call to their bloody decks to rest and care for their wounds as the two ships finally stood clear of one another a row's outing cheer a victory rose and the courageous members of the Mirabelle their shirts ripped flinging after the pirate's last few resounding appetasse Chris's heart swelled with emotion as the men was proud to call his friends as a gull he swung up into the air away from the Mirabelle and began shaking the dust from the open pouch on the sea around the vulture by the time the bag was empty a mist impossible for any helmsman to see through it surrounded the wind was rising steadily to the top of its one remaining mast Chris returned to his own ship and in his own shape at last there was a raided dwindling island of mist that clung stently around the vulture blow through the wind might and turn and turn again though the helmsman might try to do how long Chris wondered he gave it a long look at diminishing irregular white shape on the spread of the ocean then turned quickly and went to the decks below to help his wounded friends yet not before he had seen the prow the Mirabelle was turned triumphantly whole Mr. Wicker's Window Chapter 34 and Chapter 35 of Mr. Wicker's Window by Carly Dawson Domain this recording is by Arthur Piantidosi Chris had always known tucked away somewhere out of sight the back of his heart and mind that he loved his country and his city but he'd never given it much thought it had been something as taken for granted as the air he breathed so that he found himself overwhelmed by the gust of emotions sweeping through the other side looking at the shores that were both familiar and unfamiliar familiar when he saw Mount Vernon on its imposing bluff unfamiliar because no de-ohms or de-obless exists could be seen no airfield and no Pentagon where the sweet green land itself was there holding on its welcoming and individual scent of fields and risked American soil however and hate so many months before was there awaiting them the noon sun was bright over the flue slate roofs and red-brick chimneys and Chris felt a choke of happiness binding his throat like a scarf too tightly drawn the constriction and his heart as if it were too firmly held in a welcoming hand an excited happiness shook him as the Mirabelle was eased the wharfside and it last after dangers and adventures a figure and a plump woman on the monstrous hat waiting for him to disembark what a day that was the greetings and handshakeings the enveloping hug for Chris and Amos from Becky Boozer her eyes filled with happy tears and her bonnet trembling with agitation her roguish glances and coy giggles flew out like a flock of doves as the sight of the swaggering Ned Silly and her behind some bales to kiss her warmly but most of all and best of the day that first look for Mr. Wicker that spoke more than any gesture or carefully chosen words could have done he had no need to speak Chris could see the pride and pleasure shining in his face and Mr. Wicker so solitary all his life could see in the boy's eyes and affection his own son might have shown him in due time a well-created object was carefully hauled by cart the ship's carpenter had made a case to measurements given him without knowing what it was to hold and when Chris saw it last it in a corner of Mr. Wicker's well-remembered study he knew a lightness of mind he had not had since first he had been told of the jewel tree in his long journey there were long hours of talk with Mr. Wicker before the fire telling him of every detail Mr. Wicker's fine dark had nodded from time to time he did perfectly right or indeed I did not see that too clearly and so I was not sure and last all was told every tale unfolded then Mr. Wicker rose smiling at Chris go have your supper land and come back I have some other things to say the candlelight creation the blazing heart the hitting spit on which wood pigeon rose roasted the steaming parts where savory things were cooking bottom chair Becky Boozer alternating between bursts of happy song and jokes directed at Amos or Ned Silly everything seemed beautiful to Chris in the room the gaze he had ever known yet he was conscious of a heavy feeling inside himself in spite of the laughter in the talk and sat quietly staring at the rosy firelight that flowed off Becky's white apron and starched to her hot flushed face and kind blue eyes the reflection of the sparks roses and twelve wavering black plumes and when they passed on found a kindred spark in the large contented eyes of his friend Amos Ned Silly was going through the usual formula pretending that he should not stafe to supper and that even if he did he had no topodyte at all ah nah master sighly cooks Becky her hands on her hips and the soup ladle she still held standing out so he will do you not eat Amos and Lord Amos will then die in the night how should I bear to live with my conscience hereafter tell me that Ned Silly sat on the table near the water street windows his legs sprawled out his rough hands folded over his round little punch toodled his thumbs and wagged his head in a doleful manner drawing the corners his mouth down that was plain half of a sealer it is that heart us and not me boys he wagged his head again the vitils is hard on his stomach as delicate nor what might be Amos put his hand over his mouth the stifle some sound that broke through in spite of him Ned gave him a reproving glance or else me vitils is ruined as it off by that gully cook of ours he sighed and expected instant sorrow ah sweet bozer we would assemble but a spoonful of those poor sailors must face week after week month after month and us on the high seas you'll be in such a delicate cook so to speak your heart's blood would curdle on the instant that it would by my cap and buttons tears of pity streamed down Becky Boozer's face and pulling out a bandana handkerchief from her apron I'll get she blew her nose with a honk would have blown a less sturdy man than Ned silly off his chair dear in me the saint's preserve but defend us she cried I must do all in my poor week's woman's power to tempt you as best I may draw up lads for here it comes she announced without ceremony and the three watching her needed no second invitation then such a feast as it was heaped upon their plates and crowded on their table steaming vegetable soup to ducks several boiled foul with wild rice a cold beef pie several kinds of cheese tarts and pies jams and preserves a blissful silence fell over the cheerful room and Becky Boozer stood back to survey the two busy boys and gross silent man silent if one can call Ned silly's champing jaw snacking lips straight sighs after a draw the veil or loud appreciative belches a silent meal when everyone had finished it last and they had pushed back their chairs and looked about them again with thosey smiles Chris remembered Mr. Wicker's request he rose not without difficulty Mr. Wicker asked me to see him for a moment he moved to the message way that was a superb supper Becky I'm stuffed Becky looked around genuinely surprised why I'm your mouthful a taste a teeth pit that was all any of you had see there's a pigeon or two left and half a duck and part of the beef pie why you do butt-pick at your food all of you like poor birds she insisted Chris laughed ha ha ha Ned silly picking his teeth with his habitual ship's nail was already falling asleep and Amos his head hurting on one hand propped himself up and made a jumble of empty plates peacefulness and content lay everywhere in the room warm as the firelight and it is pervasive Chris turned anyhow thanks again I'll be back he went and he went along to knock at Mr. Wicker's door inside the ruby damask curtains were drawn close as the windows for it was near the dark and the fire here too was as red as the rose it was the joy of a princess of China Chris closed the door behind he had missed and dreamed of many a time a table with its flowers in a fine china bowl the desk between the windows with the long feathered quill pens and papers marked by Mr. Wicker's meticulous hand the carved cover with the end of the room and the Indian rug of many colors under his feet last of all he brought his look back to Mr. Wicker sitting in the wing with their chair Mr. Wicker had a strange expression on his face he was smiling but at the same time he looked sad and for the first time Chris saw some curious-looking garments folded neatly on a stool before the fire Mr. Wicker watching him as he gazed about saw the question in his eyes do you recognize these things Christopher he asked Chris looked more closely touching nothing his voice was wilder well it seems to me I may have seen them before they sort of looked familiar but I couldn't be sure his master's voice was gentle they are your 20th century clothes my lad the ones you wear in not your own time and deeply as it hurts me to say it the moment has come for you to put them on Chris raised startled worried eyes of the dark penetrating ones watching him so quietly from the high back chair not yet I don't have to go now do I sir and as he saw insistence in Mr. Wicker's face he began to postulate as a child does when he wants to retard its bedtime but it scarcely got back I mean here and we only had one talk I'm sure there will be other things I've forgotten to say that you should know he threw out his hands as if to grasp it's something that might hold him there and and I didn't get to say goodbye to Captain Blizzard or Mr. Finney they were wonderful to me really they were and his voice suddenly became very small and hide his bearing to whisper the end and Becky and Ned and Deremus he stood there against the door swallowing hard with his head down his stomach and his throat a mass of hateful knots and the whole of him swamped with unhappiness Mr. Wicker had never moved his elbows on the edge of his chair and his folded hands just touching his chin last whispered does it have to be it has to be Mr. Wicker without a word Chris took the folded clothes that seemed so unfamiliar off the stool and dressed behind the other leather chair his lower lip trembling mechanically as boys will he shifted everything from his pockets to those of the trousers he had just put on with careful slow gestures he folded up the knee breeches the full-sleeve shirt the long white hose and silver buckled shoes the flare back jacket last of all and put them where his clothes went Mr. Wicker then spoke getting slowly to his feet and standing with his back to the fire I'm afraid I shall have to have to let a pouch Christopher he said holding on his hand Chris took it off and put it on the long strong hand of the magician more than that Mr. Wicker said putting the pouch in his pocket I shall have to take everything from you that you have gained here Christopher he paused all but one thing you may choose one ability he waited choose well Chris looked up the man he admired and respected and grown to love and pondered deeply to make a boat or eagle or dolphin out of rope very tempting how the kids would envy him or change himself to other shapes so useful he hesitated I'd like to be able to come back sir he said and his growing and saying anything else Mr. Wicker's face broke into a radiant smile and he held his firm hand so you shall Christopher so you shall and I shall remember it all I promise you that too you can have he stepped forward and put his hands on the boy's shoulders his eyes were deeply sad although his lips still smile and now said Mr. Wicker called soldier that you are from Edel Washington for all your country all that you learn must leave you and remain with me Mr. Wicker put his hand briefly on Chris's head and let it slip to cover his eyes so lightly it was scarcely felt and then to cover his mouth Chris waited but he felt no different be a fly Amanda the magician Chris searched his mind that were words to say and you thought hard he tried one more and a third time then wordlessly shook his head make a boat Chris took the rope as it hung from his hands he wondered how one said about it he had known how once upon a time he let the rope fall to the floor Mr. Wicker put a hand on the shoulder and turned him toward the door come my boy end of chapter 35 chapter 36 of Mr. Wicker's window by Carly Dawson this sliver box recording is in the public domain this recording is by Arthur Pianton the shop was dark but headlights flashed out on Wisconsin Avenue glaring over the meagre display of objects in Mr. Wicker's window there seemed even fewer objects than before Chris thought for the curved figure of the Nubian boy was gone and so was the coil of dusty rope the ship in the glass bottle was still there however Mr. Wicker went forward in the darkness and leaning over took out the bottle with care from where it had lain for so many years Dawson polished only by the loving eyes of a boy who had often pressed his nose against the Georgian pains you also have these Mr. Wicker said putting the bottle with its delicate kinted dents in both Chris's hands both Ned and I would like to know that it is yours he turned to put his hand on the doorknob Chris found his voice what about the job sir he broke out can Jakey Harris apply for it Mr. Wicker smiled and was strange in that dim room and constantly lit by the lights of passing cars Mr. Wicker looked exactly like the venerable wizened old man when Chris knew perfectly well he was not it's peculiar he thought the tricks your eyes play on you guess I'm tired Jakey Harris for the job Mr. Wicker I'm on I know there is no job to fill you filled it Christopher and all at once without any goodby Chris found himself outside in the top step the din of cars and hunking horns hum rushed at him like a gate mouth monster the drumming wine and roar from the freeway shook the ground and up ahead the lights of the Dreebles drug store looked garish but friendly across the way as he turned to go home Chris glanced at the two tumbledown storehouses opposite the winching tackled broken glass missing from the windows as he reached the corner of Wisconsin and M street Mike rushed brosie up hey here I am not much later than I said I'd be whatcha got he asked falling to step behind inside Chris and looking down at the bottle Mr. Worker gave it to me Chris I remember I didn't come this far I don't know I guess he didn't need it a silence fell and then Mike said as they passed the strong light down bustling M street toward 28th say you been running or sent by the fire fire you look almost sunburnt and look they stopped dead while Mike put a grubby forefinger in the mark on Chris's jaw I never noticed that before it shows up white and plain must have been a pretty deep cut you had there for the first time in what felt like ours Chris smiled and the smile became a grin it sure was he said like said much further along as he left Chris to go on to his own house your Aunt Rachel called my mom and told her your mother was so much better she could come home soon seems your father is on his way back too you walked off and then turned to call for the court of luck way have you been glad to have your own folks at home Chris's grin deepened but he did not reply nor even way for fear of dropping an opposite corner he stood looking at its lighted windows the lighted windows of his house remembering a time when he and Amos had seen only a wooded ridge and a burnt out campfire something stirred in his mind and after finding the front door unlatched he eased himself in and up the stairs as quickly as he could he did not want to face his Aunt Rachel for a few minutes longer in his own room he shut the door and carefully lifted the mirror bell and its bottle up to the place of the doors then he stood looking at his reflection in the small mirror hung a skew near the window he looked the same well not quite the tiny scar was there and approved it was not a dream and he quickly undid his shirt and pulling it off got up on a chair it appeared over his shoulders to see how his back looked in the square of glass a whip lashed like a long clean byer tear and putting a shirt then it had been no dream no childish imagining a voice caught up upstairs Chris darling are you home Aunt Rachel had news for him of his mother's imminent return Chris opened his bedroom door pulled out from his pocket the first thing his fingers hit on and as he went downstairs whistling he caught and tossed and caught again an old silver button burnt black in a fire the end of Mr. Wicker's window by Carly Dawson