[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

The Labrador sniffed airily. “I should hope not—great, mournful-looking lollopers, that lot. But you know I’m pretty good at sniffing things out, so come on, my old shipmate!”

Ben helped Mrs. Winn to negotiate the stairs, trying not to show his impatience at her lack of speed. He told himself that he, too, would be old one day, then caught Ned’s thoughtful observation. “Will you? When’ll that be?”

The door was a heavy mahogany one, shining from layers of dark varnish, with brass trimmings.

Mrs. Winn gave the key to Ben. As he fitted it into the lock, he gave an involuntary shiver. Images of the sea welled up in his mind, ships, waves, wind, thrumming sails. He pictured himself and Ned long, long ago, locked in the galley of the Flying Dutchman, whilst outside, Vanderdecken murdered the seaman Vogel by shooting him. Then Mrs. Winn’s hand was on his arm, breaking the spell.

“Ben, are you all right, boy?”

Reality flooded back, and he straightened up, turning the key. “I’m fine, Miz Winn. It was the lock, bit stiff I think. There, that’s got it. Ladies first!”

It was a proper old seafarer’s room, all shipshape and Bristol fashion, as the saying goes. Captain Winn had been a meticulous man, always storing things tidily. Framed certificates and merit awards, alongside pictures of various ships, carefully posed crews, and the captain himself depicted with groups of his numerous friends, hung in even lines on the walls. There was a brass-railed table, which had once graced a ship’s cabin. On it stood a sextant and a globe.

In a corner a polished shell case stood, serving as a receptacle for some rolled-up charts and a couple of walking canes with carved heads. A rolltop desk took up most of another corner. Beside it were two sea chests. One was a beautiful example of carved Burmese teak, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and custard-colored ebony. The other was a plain, black, naval-issue, officer’s steamer case, with the name “Captain Rodney Winn. R.N.” neatly painted on it in white enamel.

Mrs. Winn had to remove some interesting specimens of conch and nautilus shells from the top of the desk before she could open it. From a tiny drawer she took two keys, one plain and serviceable, the other very ornate, with a red silk tassel hanging from it. She unlocked the two chests, handing over the keys to Ben.

“All the captain’s personal papers are in the desk and these two boxes. When you finish up here, make sure you lock everything up and put the keys back, Ben. I don’t want to rummage through all this. Too many memories. Far too many ghosts for someone of my age. Hmm, I’ll have to come up here tomorrow and have a good dust around. Captain Winn couldn’t abide dust, hated it! Oh, would you like to see something, lad? Take a look at this.”

She opened a wall cupboard, which was actually a built-in wardrobe. All the captain’s uniforms, from ceremonial dress to everyday duty, were hung from a rail. Below, on shelves, his accoutrements were displayed—white gloves, cotton and wool for different climates, leather ones for formal occasions. Various ties, cravats and bows, medals bars, ribbons, stars, and other decorations were placed with care alongside gold-braid sleeve bands. Most of all, Ben admired a magnificent Royal Navy captain’s sword and sheath, complete with gold tassels. He turned to comment on it to Mrs. Winn, but she had gone.

Ned’s thought confirmed this. “She’s gone downstairs, looking rather sad, too. What a good woman. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could stay here for good, Ben. You remember that saying, there’s no place like home. I’m beginning to realize what it means. I really like it here.”

The lad sat down on the carpet, next to his friend, and stroked beneath his chin as he passed back a wistful thought. “I know what you mean, pal, but you know as well as I do, when the time comes to move on we’ve no option but to go.”

They sat in silence for a moment, imagining what it would be like if they were ordinary mortals, growing older, growing up, staying in one place, living a normal life.

The big Lab broke the spell by butting Ben in the stomach and playfully knocking him flat on his back. “Come on, shipmate, aren’t we supposed to be helping Miz Winn save her home and land by searching the room for clues?”

Ben opened the captain’s chest. “This looks as good a place to start as any.”

The Royal Navy chest was literally crammed with old dispatches, charts, and long-out-of-date yellowed newspapers, all in careful order.

Ben flipped through them, Ned watching him rather impatiently. “Anything of value there, Ben?”