Arabel and Mortimer (7 page)

"B-b-b-b-b-b-but Miss B-b-b-b-b-b-b-brown! Mortimer the raven's inside that piano!" wailed Mike.

Arabel and Henry, who had heard the siren and felt the ship's violent lurch, and had come dashing up on deck to find out what was happening, arrived just in time to hear Mike say this and Miss Brandy Brown reply:

"Well, if that's so, I hope the perishing piano floats right over to Pernambuco with the blessed bird inside it."

But luckily for Mortimer, Mr. Fairbairn, the chief engineer, also happened to be passing just then. Henry grabbed his arm.

"Oh, Mr. Fairbairn! Arabel's raven is inside that piano!"

"Och, mairrcy, the puir bairrd—whit unchancy hirdumdirdum gar'd him loup intae sic an orra hauld at sic a gillravaging time? Yon corbie's randy cantrips aye fissell us a' frae yin carfuffle tae anither; forby he's no like tae win oot frae this splore the noo wi'oot sic a dose o' mirligoes as'll gar him gang mair kenspeckit frae noo on—bless us a', whit a clamjamfry!"

But while Mr. Fairbairn was grumbling and exclaiming in this manner, he was not wasting any time; he had raced along the deck and knocked out the pins that held one of the lifeboats, No. 16, in position; while he did so, Arabel, Mike, and Henry scrambled into it; Mr. Fairbairn jumped nimbly after them as the boat slid down from its davits and landed in the sea with a plunge and a bounce. Almost before they were in the water, Mike had started the boat's engine, which began to go
chug-chug-chug
in a reliable and comforting manner, and just as well, for, seen from down here, the waves looked as huge and black as a herd of elephants, while the sky was getting darker every minute, the thunder growled, the
wind shrieked, and lightning, from time to time, silvered the tips of the wave crests.

"Where's the piano?" cried Arabel anxiously. "Can you see it, Mr. Fairbairn? Is it still floating?"

It was not easy to keep the piano in view now that they were down at its level. But back on the
Queen of Bethnal Green
Hamish McTavish had told Captain Mainbrace what was going on, and he helped them by having rockets fired in the direction of the black floating object—it now looked no larger than a matchbox—which was all that could be seen of Mortimer and Miss Brandy Brown's Broadwood.

But lifeboat No. 16 chugged reliably on its way; and at last they caught up with the piano. None too soon; it was settling lower and lower in the water as they overtook it.

"Suppose the water's got inside?" said Arabel.

"Ne'er fash yersel', lassie—I'm after hearing that yon Broadwood craftsmen do a grand watertight job o' cabinet-making."

The lifeboat was equipped with a hook for getting people out of the water, so while Mr. Fairbairn steered, Henry hung over the side and managed to hook the piano by the leg, while Arabel clung like grim death on to Henry's feet, and Mike leaned over until he was nearly cut in half by the edge of the boat and, with frightful difficulty, unlocked the lid of the piano—which, by great good fortune, was floating the right way up.

"Is Mortimer there?" Arabel asked faintly, who could see nothing as she was lying flat holding on to Henry's feet.

"He's there all right," said Mike, who had almost fractured his spine hoisting up Mortimer's very considerable weight from the sinking piano into the safety of the boat.

"Is—is—is he alive?"

"I reckon he's unconscious," Mike said. "We'd better give him a slug of brandy."

Mortimer lay flat on the bottom boards with his eyes shut and his lavender-colored feet sticking straight out; from underneath his wing fell Mike's key ring.

"So he's the pilfering so-and-so that stole my keys," said Mike. "I might have guessed it. Getting me into all that trouble!"

But then he thought how easily Mortimer might have drowned, due to his own idea for a practical joke, and he knelt down by the motionless raven with the brandy flask from the lifeboat's first-aid box.

Just at that moment Mortimer, lying on his back, gave a loud, unmistakable snore. Even over the sound of the engine and the storm they heard it.

"Och, havers, will ye look at that," said Mr. Fairbairn. "The sackless sumph is still sleeping. For a' sakes, let's gang oor ways back to the ship afore he wakes up."

It took them much longer to get back to the ship, for all the time they had been rescuing Mortimer the
Queen of Bethnal Green
had been steaming full speed ahead for the open sea, since she did not dare stay close to the dangerous cliffs.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones had just got back on board when all this excitement began, and had been horrified to see the line of lavender-colored footprints leading along the deck to nowhere, and to learn that their only child was out in a tiny boat on that black and wicked sea on such a perilous quest. In fact, Mrs. Jones fainted dead away and had to be revived with smelling salts and a hot-water bottle against the back of her neck.

By the time she had come to, lifeboat No. 16 had been hauled back on board, and Mrs. Jones clung to Arabel and hugged her and shook her and slapped her and laughed and cried and said that Arabel must promise never,
never
to go off again in a boat like that in the middle of such a storm.

"But I'd have to, Ma, if Mortimer was floating in the piano."

"I don't care! You shouldn't have gone, even if he was inside a harpsichord! Now go and have a hot bath this minute, and take that dratted bird with you!"

Luckily, all through this Mortimer went on sleeping. Arabel had a hot shower, and Mike brought her a delicious supper on a tray, and a whole lot of people came to congratulate her on the brave rescue, and on having Mortimer back safe and sound. All the previous events were forgiven and forgotten; Arabel, Mortimer, Henry, Mike, and Mr. Fairbairn were the most popular people on the ship.

And all this time Mortimer went on sleeping.

Then the best thing of all happened.

Mr. Fairbairn arrived, carrying a soggy, wet, nasty, messy, salty, sodden, draggled bit of dark green woolly material.

"Hoo are ye the noo, lassie?" he said. "No' the waur for yer boatie trip? When I was mekking a' siccar wi' the lifeboat I fund yon clout, an' for a' it's sae droukit an' towzled I bricht it along tae speer is't yon birdie's neck rag, that a' the blether's bin aboot?"

"Oh, Mr. Fairbairn, it
is
! It's Mortimer's tie!" cried Arabel joyfully. "Oh, thank you, thank you! It must have blown up, not down, and got tangled in the davits! Oh, Mortimer
will
be pleased. It's lovely and wet and cold, too—just the way he likes it."

At this moment Mortimer opened one eye. The first thing he saw was his dirty, soggy, wet, draggled, salt-encrusted, sodden, beloved green necktie.

Mortimer gave a huge sigh of relief, which made his feathers all stick out sideways like the petals of a French marigold. (They looked rather like petals, too, for they were still all curly with setting lotion activated by the salt water.)

Arabel laid the end of the tie by Mortimer's beak, and he took hold of it with a sudden quick snap. Then, shutting his eyes again, he stood up and turned round and round half a dozen times until he was nicely wound up. Then he dug his head under his wing, lay down, and went back to sleep.

But Mr. Fairbairn gave a party, and Arabel and Henry and Isabella went to it and stayed up till all hours.

The last seven days of the cruise passed quickly. The weather was fine. Miss Brandy Brown gave her concert with the Stepney Stepalives. Arabel and Henry played a lot more table tennis. The
Queen of Bethnal Green
steamed back across the Bay of Biscay, up the English Channel, round the corner of Kent, and along the Thames. All this time Mortimer stayed asleep. Just occasionally he would open one eye. If it could see water going past outside the porthole, he shut it again.

Then, at last, when he opened his eye, he saw the streets of Tilbury going past through Mr. Jones's taxi window.

"Kaaaark!" said Mortimer. He opened both eyes. The streets were still there—beautiful, gray, rainy streets with houses and shops and traffic lights—no sea anywhere. Mortimer sat bolt upright on Arabel's lap. His black eyes began to sparkle.

"He's
so
glad to be home again," said Arabel. "Didn't I say that going on a cruise to Spain would be a horrible mistake? Didn't I?" said Mr. Jones. He was driving his own taxi, which Mr. Murphy had kindly brought to the dock for him.

Just as they rolled to a stop in front of Number Six, Rainwater Crescent, Mortimer clambered onto the back of the front seat. He reached over Mr. Jones's shoulder and pulled the key out of the ignition. Then he flopped out through the taxi door (which Arabel had just opened) and made his way quite fast along the pavement.

"Stop him,
stop him
!" said Mr. Jones. "That bunch has the front-door key on it, too."

But before Arabel could get to him, Mortimer had reached up, tip-claw, and posted the whole bunch of keys into the open slot of the letter box that stood in front of Number Six.

Then he happily climbed up the front steps, dragging his tie behind him.