Flight to the Lonesome Place (7 page)

“Wait a minute. You say Marlowe was with you?”

“Of course he was with us. Without his help we couldn't possibly have managed!”

Ronnie scowled at her. “That's funny. The captain didn't mention him when he told me about how you escaped.”

“The captain has never even seen Marlowe. That's why.”

“Oh. What's he like? What sort of person is he?”

“He—he's not exactly a person, Boy Blue, though I think of him as that. I mean,” she added hesitantly, “he's more of a—a personage.”

Ronnie stared at her. “Are you trying to tell me he's not real?”

“Of course he's real, silly! But, well, instead of my trying to—to explain him to you, maybe it would be better to wait till you meet him.”

Ronnie sighed. He still didn't know how to take Ana María Rosalita. She was so full of surprises and contradictions. Likely as not Marlowe would turn out to be entirely imaginary.

“Okay,” he said. “But how do I find Black Luis' place? You said it was somewhere below the Córcega beach, and that there was an old sea grape tree near it. But that doesn't help too much, especially if I'm trying to find someone who's hiding. How far is it from the captain's cottage?”

“Oh, dear.” She shook her small head. “I—I can't even guess about distances. It's probably miles and miles.” Suddenly she brightened. “I know! It's at the last beehive.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Don't you know what a beehive is, silly?”

He grinned. “Could it be something bees live in?”

“Oh,
Madre mía
, I don't mean that kind of a beehive. Maybe I should have said haystack. That's what most people call them—the haystack hills. Only they look more like beehives to me. They are those funny little mountains that stretch all along the coast and down almost to Mayagüez.”

“Oh, those!” He had caught only a brief and distant glimpse of them when he had flown to San Juan, but it had been enough to whet his imagination. The haystack hills were geological curiosities. Formed of eroded limestone, they stood out against the high mountains behind them like hundreds of giant green cones.

“When Papa offered Black Luis some land,” she said, “he chose that piece with the last beehive on it. It's right on the beach, and you can almost see it from the captain's place. So you shouldn't have
any
trouble finding it.”

“But what about Black Luis? If he's hiding out—”

“Oh, don't worry about that. Marlowe will take you to him.”

“But how do I find Marlowe?”

She giggled. “You can't. Not if you looked a thousand years. Just go there, and he'll find
you
.”

The Dry Tortugas were abeam that evening, and old Fort Jefferson, that incredible monster of the Gulf, was a grim gray ghost on the horizon. The next morning Ronnie could make out the mountains of Cuba off to starboard. The mountains were visible all day, becoming higher and nearer as the vessel moved steadily down the Old Bahama Channel, which separates the big island from the Bahamas. Schools of flying fish erupted constantly from the blue water like little silver birds, and dolphins raced them on either side.

Late that afternoon the trade wind began to blow. It boomed all night, and it was still strong the next morning. For the first time the Señora did not appear at breakfast, nor did she come out and take her accustomed place in the deck chair afterward.

“She's
mareada
,” Ana María Rosalita reported happily. “Seasick. Am I glad! Now I don't have to keep putting the eye on her.”

“ ‘Putting the eye …,' ” Ronnie repeated. “What in the name of the seven saints are you talking about?”

“Oh, dear. Won't you
ever
understand about me?” the tiny girl said. “The Señora hates me—”

“I know she hates you. She called you a little monster that first night when I came aboard.”

“She hates me because she's afraid of me, and when I'm not watching she tries to beat me. Do you understand, Boy Blue?”

“Not quite.”

“But it's so simple. She knows I have powers, and that makes her afraid, and naturally when you're afraid of something so small you get angry and want to hit it—especially when it's Bernardo's half sister that you'd rather see drowned. Therefore—”

“Therefore what?”

“Therefore I am forced to put the eye on her to protect myself. Before we came aboard, she hit me twice when I wasn't watching, and my head still has a buzzing in it. But when I use what power I have and put the eye on her, she cannot raise her hand. At night, of course, I am safe, for I lock myself in my stateroom. But during the day I must be on guard all the time, and it is such a strain. Now she is seasick,
gracias a Dios
, and I pray she remains that way.”

“I see,” Ronnie said, his brain spinning.

“And now I can enjoy everything,” she went on gaily. “The flying fish, the beautiful sea, talking to you … Oh, I wish we could sail on and on like this, for days and days and days. Wouldn't it be wonderful?”

It would indeed be wonderful, Ronnie thought, if only there was some way to escape from things …

“But this is the fourth day,” she added suddenly, and now there was a break in her voice. “Tomorrow it will be over, for we will reach San Juan. And by tomorrow night I will be in Bernardo's house, which is practically the same as saying that I will be in jail.”

Ronnie chilled. He hadn't wanted to think of San Juan. But soon he must face the moment when the ship would reach her dock, and he would be forced to get off.

The thought of what might be waiting for him filled him with dread.

Later that morning, soon after lifeboat drill, the high peaks of Haiti were abeam. The mountains continued, wrapped in mist, and became Santo Domingo in the afternoon. It was a wild and mysterious expanse of coast, and at any other time Ronnie would have been fascinated by it. But there was something sinister about it that repelled him, and it only added to the foreboding that had been growing in him.

That night he awoke from a dream of terror so real that he leaped trembling from his bunk before he realized he was still safely aboard the
Cristobal Colón
.

In the dream the vessel had already reached San Juan. Ana María Rosalita and the other passengers had gone ashore, and he was waiting for the captain to return from the steamship office on the other side of the dock building. “Stay aboard,” the captain had ordered, “and keep out of sight. I've a little business to take care of, but it won't take me ten minutes. When I come back I'll bring a cab, and we'll leave the dock area together.”

It had seemed like a good plan. But the captain was hardly out of sight when, peering from his hiding place in the deck shelter, Ronnie glimpsed the same two men who had stepped from the elevator back in New Orleans. They were standing in the shadow of one of the doorways, where they could see everyone who came ashore. That was shock enough. But a worse shock followed when a third man—a man he recognized in spite of a changed appearance—stepped quickly across the dock and started up the accommodation ladder.

He was trapped on the ship. The only way off was down the ladder. If he escaped the man coming aboard, he would be at the mercy of the two watching for him on the dock.

That was only half the dream. The rest of it was the bad part, and Ronnie tried to block it from his mind by doing over an equation from
Time and Duality
. Last night he thought he'd found a mistake in Dr. Prynne's mathematics, and he'd been anxious to recheck it.

But for the first time since getting the book, Dr. Prynne's fantastic theory failed to hold him. The dream was too horribly real. He kept seeing himself running through the ship, frightened, desperate … seeing Josip blocking the way, demanding money to hide him … then suddenly hitting the steward, and racing forward on the next deck where the stevedores were beginning to unload.…

There was the moment of uncertainty when he thrust a handful of bills upon a startled winch operator … and the greater uncertainty when he was hoisted over the ship's side in a cargo net—only to discover that he had been sighted, and that one of the watching men had drawn a weapon and was pointing it at him.…

He awoke before he reached the dock. And that, in a way, was the worst part of it. Had he dreamed what was really going to happen tomorrow, and was he going to be killed?

When he met Ana María Rosalita on deck in the morning, the ship was crossing Mona Passage and the blue-green mountains of Puerto Rico were rising ahead.

The tiny girl said, “You hardly spoke at breakfast. What's wrong, Boy Blue?”

Reluctantly he told her about his dream.

“Oh, dear!” Her eyes widened. “And it was real? I mean,
real
real?”

“The realest thing ever,” he muttered. “That's why it—it sort of shook me.”

Her brow puckered. “My grandmother told me that a
real
real dream is supposed to happen just exactly as it's dreamed, and that it should be looked upon as—as—”

“As a warning?”

“Not entirely. I mean, it should be used as a guide, so that you'll know what to do when—”

“Guide nothing! That dirty rat with a pistol was out to get me—and if there's any truth in the dream, he will.”

“No he won't,” she said.

“Who's going to stop him?”

“
I
will. I'll put the eye on him.”

“But—but you can't. You'll be getting off the ship before I do. You'll be gone.”

“No I won't. Ramón—he's Bernardo's chauffeur—is supposed to meet us at the dock, but he's always late. And if he isn't late enough, I'll do something brattish to—to hold things up.” She gave him a pinched, wistful little smile, and added, “I've just got to protect you, Boy Blue, because I've an awful feeling I'll be needing your help soon.”

He didn't feel any better in spite of all she had told him, but he couldn't help liking her more. If only she wasn't quite so looped on magic, he thought suddenly, she'd really be a wonderful person.

The curious haystack hills were clearly in view in another hour. She was pointing out to him the end of the mountain chain where he would have to go, when they were interrupted by Josip.

“Young sir,” the steward purred,” the captain would like to see you right away.”

Ronnie wondered grimly how much Josip had learned, other than his identity. At least no one else seemed to have had any second thoughts about him. The Blue Boy had hardly been mentioned in the dining salon; and apparently, because he ate at the Señora's table, everyone assumed he was a member of her group.

In his office the captain said, “I'll be going on the bridge soon, and won't see you till we dock. So I thought we'd better talk over a plan of action now. Then there's the problem of your money.”

Ronnie chewed thoughtfully on his lip. “If—if you've a steamship agent in Mayagüez, maybe you'd better turn that envelope over to him. It'll be safer than if I carried it, and I can get it any time later if I need it.”

“Good idea. But why Mayagüez? Have you given up the school idea and decided on the cottage?”

“Yes, sir. And I thought I'd look up Black Luis.”

“H'mm.” The blue eyes bored into him. “I like that. And son, please, keep in touch with me by way of the ship's agent. It could be important. Also—” The captain thrust two envelopes across the desk. “You may need identification as Ron McHenry; these letters will take care of it.”

The blue eyes fastened on him again. “Now, how do you feel about going ashore?”

Ronnie swallowed. “I'm scared.”

“Well, if we work things right, I'm sure you can get away safely. I've a simple little plan. It merely requires getting a cab to the dock.”

Ronnie, a bit dazed, returned finally to his stateroom and began packing his belongings into his zipper bag. There wasn't much. Just his extra shirt and a few articles of clothing he had washed out the night before, and his jacket, which he wouldn't need in the tropic heat. He was tempted to leave it behind, then realized it might be useful if he ever managed to get out of San Juan. If …

He could still feel the shock that went through him when he heard the captain's plan. It was exactly the way he had dreamed it. Even the captain's phrases were the same:
Stay aboard … keep out of sight … little business
…
but it won't take me ten minutes … I'll bring a cab …

It was one thing to have a startlingly real dream, but quite another to begin experiencing the reality of it. The rest would follow soon. The ship would dock right after lunch, and it was nearly lunchtime now.

When the gong rang he forced himself to go down, though he had no appetite. Across from him Ana María Rosalita sat picking at her food, merely pretending to eat. Finally she smiled almost timidly, and whispered, “Please, I know how you feel, but you mustn't be afraid. Didn't I promise it would be all right?”

Before he could reply, the Señora, whom he had not seen since they were passing Cuba, came in and took her place like a disgruntled gorgon. In her presence the tiny girl seemed to shrivel.

In that moment something strange happened to Ronnie. Ana María Rosalita had troubles enough for anyone, yet she had put them entirely aside and thought only of trying to help him. Had he ever done that for anyone? He realized he hadn't. And it came to him all at once that fear for his own safety would never give his courage a boost. Only concern for others would do that.

He ignored the gorgon's scowl and said, “Thank you,
camarada
. I—I know I'll make it now. And don't
you
worry about things, because I'm going to be near.”

When Ronnie stood on deck a little later, bag in hand, his newly gained courage almost deserted him. The
Cristobal Colón
was now creeping through the narrow entrance into San Juan Bay. As he watched the grim old fort and the city wall slide past on his left, his heart started to pound, and everything around him seemed to begin moving in slow motion.