[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

Amy, with Alex behind her, came running toward the fray, shouting out, “Foul, foul! Keep your feet to yourself, Smithers!”

Not wanting them caught up in the fight, Ben backed off until he was up against the schoolhouse wall. Shoving aside Amy and Alex, Regina laughed gleefully. “Get ’round him quick! Hahaha, you’ve got him cornered, Wilf!”

She was right. Ben found himself against the wall with the others standing around in a half-circle. Wilf was right in front of him—Ben could not go left, right, or back. Leaping forward, Wilf aimed a swinging right at his face. Ben ducked, and there was a meaty thud, followed by an agonized scream. Amy went white, she could not see what had gone on.

Wilf Smithers came howling and screeching out of the melee, holding his right elbow in his left hand, his face the color of a beetroot. As he stopped and did a dance of pain on the spot, his right hand flapped uselessly.

Mr. Braithwaite came hurrying into the yard, his dusty gown swirling about him as he called out to the dancing boy. “Er, er, what, er, seems to be the trouble, er, Smithers?”

Wilf had lost the power of intelligent speech and continued to scream and dance. Ben came forward, unhurt, calmly explaining. “We were playing a game, sir, and he punched the wall by accident. I think his hand is hurt. Are you all right, Wilf?”

Mr. Braithwaite showered dandruff around as he scratched his wiry mop furiously. “Hand, er, right, er, whats-ername . . . Woodworthy. Go and get somebody, er, immediately. Yes, right away, er, I should think!”

Regina went dashing out of the schoolyard, straight into Mr. and Mrs. Evans, who were out for a stroll.

Blodwen Evans strode purposefully toward the speechless dancing boy, with her husband Dai trailing behind. She took charge of the situation, addressing Mr. Braithwaite. “Indeed to goodness, what’s possessin’ the lad?”

“Er, ah, er, hand I should, er, think, yes!”

She brushed Mr. Braithwaite aside, grabbed Wilf by his injured hand, and felt it. He gave out a last shriek and fainted. Blodwen Evans pursed her lips as she made a quick diagnosis. “Look, you, the lad’s hand is broken! Dai, Mr. Braithwaite, you’ll ’ave to help me carry him to the chemist. He’s closed, but we’ll rattle the door ’til he opens.”

She seized the unconscious Wilf’s feet, glaring at the librarian. “Don’t lift him by the right hand, man, take his shoulders!” Between them they struggled out of the schoolyard, carrying their limp burden.

Regina turned on Ben immediately. “You’re responsible for that. Couldn’t fight him fair and square. Coward!”

Amy pushed herself between Regina and Ben. “Don’t be silly, Wilf did that to himself!”

Regina took a swinging slap at Amy’s face, but Ben’s arm blocked it. He seemed to touch Regina at a point between ear and neck. Instantly she rose on tiptoe as he kept up the pressure with a slightly bent forefinger. Amy was amazed—the girl was standing rock-still, with her chin tilted upward and an expression of silent anguish on her face.

Ben’s voice was soft, but with a hint of steel in it. “Listen to me, Regina, I’ve got you by a nerve point—painful, isn’t it? I don’t like hurting anybody, so save yourself some pain and say that we must not fight and I’ll let you go.”

The big girl’s jaw was clenched so tight that all she could manage was something that sounded like “Gnn, ee nust nok kite!” Ben released her and she dashed off sobbing, with the rest of the Grange Gang trailing behind sullenly.

Alex was lost in admiration. “Where did you learn to do that, Ben? You could’ve licked Wilf with one finger. Show me how you did it, go on, Ben!”

The flaxen-haired boy thrust his hands into his pockets, ignoring his friend. “Oh no, pal, you’d be going about paralyzing anyone who came near you. What’s the use of fighting, kicking, and punching another person just to prove your point? It only ends up with both of you getting hurt and solving nothing. Come on, I’m due back for dinner soon, have to get cleaned up. Don’t want to disappoint Miz Winn.”

They parted at the corner of the lane and turned. The dark-haired girl watched Ben lope off toward Mrs. Winn’s house. Alex looked at his older sister, puzzled. “So Ben isn’t a coward?”

Amy shook her head, slowly. “Far from it!”

“Then why wouldn’t he fight Wilf? He could have beat him easily with those secret things he knows.”

Ben had now gone out of sight around the bend in the lane.

Amy gave her brother a long look before she replied. “You know, there’s a lot more to Ben than either of us imagine. He has a sort of air about him—confidence, that’s it. He acts as if he can do a great deal of things. Of course he could have beaten Wilf. I think he didn’t fight because he knew he could win, but he didn’t have to prove it to himself. It must be good, to be like that. He didn’t need us when he went to meet Wilf, but he let us come. He said he needed us. You know, Alex, I think he was trying to give us a bit of confidence in ourselves. D’you see what I mean?”