Mr. Wicker''s Window

  CHAPTER 34

  Safe on the _Mirabelle_, Chris, exhausted and increasingly consciousof the pain of the whiplash, took his own shape with sighs ofthankfulness and looked about him. A wind was rising, rocking theinterlocked ships, and he could plainly see that the crew of the_Mirabelle_ had done enormous damage to the _Vulture_ and itsattacking men. Cannon shots from the opening sally, and at such closerange, had broken two of its three masts, and the decks of the_Vulture_ were a clutter and tangle of lines, sails and splinteredspars. The fact that the men of the _Mirabelle_ were in betterphysical shape than the pirates stood them in good stead, for theiragility and strength had carried them through the battle even againstthe wilier and more murderous knowledge of Claggett Chew's men. Thepirates, Chris could see, were turning back, and those who stillfought were one and all wounded or grazed, and losing ground withevery passing moment.

  Chris had been so terrified and panicstricken by his own personaldanger and fight for life that it took him a few minutes to catch hisbreath and grasp the situation from where he stood on the Captain'sbridge. Wondering if he still had the strength to force a leak in the_Vulture's_ hull, as he had begun to do, he felt in the leather pouchat his neck for the knife. At the bottom of the pouch his fingernailshit a gritty substance, and into his head came an echo of Mr. Wicker'swords: "Remember the leather pouch!"

  Taking out the knife, the folded balloon, and the map of where theJewel Tree 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 lava. Gray-black, almost a powder, it had afaintly sulphurous smell. As he turned it speculatively in his hand,wondering how he was supposed to use it, a few grains sifted betweenChris's fingers and fell over the side into the sea.

  Instantly, as soon as they touched the water, several infinitesimalflames started up, burning on the waves as hardily as if they hadfallen onto dry grass, and their heat produced a sturdy mist whichrose in heavy spirals from every grain.

  Then Chris knew what it was for. Shaking every particle carefully backinto the bag, he hurried to find Captain Blizzard.

  "Sir!" he cried as soon as he was within earshot, "the pirates arebested, and we can make a safe escape if you will give an order to setloose the grappling irons and lines and bid our men raise sail!" Helooked eagerly at Captain Blizzard. "The pirates look pretty tirednow, but the _Vulture_ might pursue us if I didn't know a way to stopher!"

  The Captain looked thoughtfully at Chris and hesitated not at all.Too much had already depended on the boy and had been faithfullycarried out for even Captain Blizzard to doubt of his ability. Orderswere quickly given to cast off from the pirate ship and Chrisdisappeared to a hidden corner. There he hid everything the leatherbag had contained excepting the grainy powder. Next, taking the bagfrom around his neck and leaving the mouth of it wide open, he changedhis shape to that of a sea gull.

  Taking the pouch in its beak the gull soared high above the twovessels, now drifting imperceptibly apart. Sounds of violent fightingcould still be heard inside Claggett Chew's cabin, but the pirate crewseemed grateful enough to fall to the bloody decks to rest and carefor their wounds. As the two ships finally stood clear of one another,a resounding cheer of victory rose from the courageous members of the_Mirabelle_. Their shirts ripped into hasty bandages, their bodiesglistening with sweat and rusty with their own or their foes' blood,they were a bedraggled sight. Nevertheless, as they raised their armsor flung their caps into the air, flinging after the pirates a fewlast resounding epithets. Chris's heart swelled with emotion at themen he was proud to call his friends.

  As the gull, he swung up into the air away from the _Mirabelle_, andbegan shaking the dust from the open pouch on the sea around the_Vulture_. By the time the bag was empty, a mist impossible for anyhelmsman to see through had surrounded the battered ship from stem tostern, and in despite of a freshening wind, was rising steadily to thetop of its one remaining mast.

  Chris returned to his own ship, and in his own shape at last, surveyedthe dwindling island of mist that clung persistently around theVulture, blow though the wind might, and turn and turn again thoughthe helmsman might try to do. How long, Chris wondered, would the misthold? Or would the _Vulture_ be doomed to drift at the mercy of thesea in its magic white shroud?

  He gave it a long look, a diminishing irregular white shape on thevast spread of the ocean, then turned quickly and went to the decksbelow to help his wounded friends. Yet not before he had seen that theprow of the _Mirabelle_ was turned triumphantly home!