Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (19 page)

In his journal, Basil kept a careful record of the passing days. He always knew exactly how long they had been on the island. He had even set up a sun dial to tell them the time of the day. Although stranded in the wilderness, they would continue to live as civilized human beings, he declared, causing them to giggle because he was standing barefoot before them as he said it. But to Basil, being civilized meant being well educated, even if one was dressed in little better than rags. He decided, therefore, that daily lessons in sums, spelling, and writing; in the languages of Latin, Greek, and French; and in a understanding of history, literature, and religion, as well as the sciences, would be necessary.

Soon the days were passing with a regularity that seldom altered unless the weather turned foul. Up at dawn, hunting and fishing for the day's food, lessons, then a few hours to do as one pleased, then sunset and conversation, mostly stories by Basil and her mother, as they sat around the fire. At least that was the way their lives had been until the storm struck with such devastation.

Lily's gaze returned to the wreck. She could remember how excited they had been when they had discovered it several days after the storm.

They had been walking along the shore, collecting driftwood for their fire and scavenging for other storm-tossed debris they could make use of, when they came across an unbelievable assortment of wreckage that had washed into the bay.

Several wooden chests were half-buried on the beach. Some had been smashed open with their water-logged contents spilled out on the sands. All that could be seen of a bronze cannon was its muzzle, aimed harmlessly at the sky. Tristram raced ahead, scooping up handfuls of golden doubloons that lay scattered across the sands. Whooping with glee, he tossed them high above his head. Dulcie tottered along behind him, squealing excitedly as she scooped up handfuls of sand.

Lily could still remember how delighted her mother was when she had spied the silver tableware and the gleam of finely wrought plates of gold. They would now dine like royalty, she laughed, her excitement growing when she pulled a silk doublet from one trunk, the damp garment soon to be followed by a satin gown and all the necessary finery of a well-to-do gentleman and his lady.

They still drank cool spring water out of the wine decanter and glass goblets she had unearthed, and Lily smiled as she recalled how startled they had all been when Basil had strutted across the beach in a cape of brightly colored feathers, a grotesque golden mask held before his face while the plumed headdress he wore danced in the breeze.

Tristram came racing back, a gold link chain snaking behind him as he'd carelessly cast down the gold doubloons, forgotten now that his attention was centered on the exotic garb Basil was dressed in.

Lily touched the curved, gold filigree earrings she still wore. They had come out of that same treasure chest. Basil said he had read about such strange things in an account of the voyages of the
conquistadores
and the great empire of the Indians they had conquered in the New World. Her mother said the cape was made of quetzal feathers. In a nobleman's home in Madrid, she had seen a cape similar to the one they had found. The man's father had sailed with Cortes and had returned to Spain a wealthy man.

The flower-shaped emerald ring that winked up at Lily had come from their find on the beach that day. Lily smoothed the sun-faded green satin of the shift she wore, the careful stitches her mother had sewn along its seams still holding firm. It was too short now, for she had grown a couple of inches during the past two years, but it was still her favorite garment.

While she was searching the sandy bottom of the clear water shallows for more doubloons she had heard mewing coming from an upended
wooden
cage. A spotted jaguar cub in the cage with Choco had died, as had other animals she later discovered washed up on shore. Cisco, however, had been more fortunate. The cage he and several other exotic birds had been confined in had been tossed high on the rocks, where it had been wedged safely out of reach of wind and sea.

Tristram was the first to see the broken mast and broad sheet of canvas floating in the water. His cry of delight, however, turned to one of pure horror when he saw the bloated figures of the drowned sailors caught in the tangle of rigging.

Basil ordered them all back on shore while he cut the bodies free of the rigging. He then gave the men a decent burial. It took them several more days to complete their search of the bay and finish their salvage of the wreck. They collected quite a treasure, although the practical items, among them tableware and clothes, and the timbers from the ship, were of more value to them than all of the gold and silver doubloons and reales, ingots and rare stones they discovered.

Soon, everything seemed to return to normal. Lily's mother began to make them new clothes, and as she had predicted their next meals had been eaten off plates of solid gold. Lily had occupied her time seeing to the demands of her
tigre
and the parrot whose broken wing kept him from flying away with the others. Basil said that since they had no place to spend their considerable wealth, and since the pirates might return one day, he thought it wise to find a safe hiding place for their fortune. Remembering the underwater cave that had another entrance among the rocks on the cliff, he proposed that they hide their bounty there. The uppermost part of the cave, nearest the land entrance, stayed dry even at high tide. Their
treasure
trove would remain safely hidden.

Almost two weeks had passed, Lily remembered. She wandered alone along the beach that day. She climbed the rocks to get a better view of the stretch of beach that cured out of sight beyond the headland. Lily shuddered. She could still feel the terror she had felt when she had seen the hand reaching out to her. It grabbed hold of her ankle. Her piercing cry had brought the others running.

Basil had pried the hurtful fingers loose from her ankle and pulled her away from the man who clung to the rocks. Except for the sound of his shallow, rasping breath, they might have thought the man dead. He certainly had looked dead. He had used the last of his strength in his effort to attract her attention. He had dragged himself across the sands from the raft that had floated ashore on the tide. They could see the trail he had left. He had not been alone on the small raft. There were two people lying facedown in the sand, they were both women.

Basil had carried the feverish man and his two delirious companions back to the hut, where her mother and Basil had tried to make them comfortable. From the gentleman's almost incoherent babblings, they had learned that they were survivors of another ship that had gone down in the storm. All had been part of a convoy sailing to Spain. They had survived the sinking of their ship, only to find themselves adrift at sea until the current had carried them to the island.

Lily did not understand why Basil had sent her and Tristram and Dulcie away. He had built a temporary shelter on the edge of the beach where he and her mother cared for the sick people. At first it had all seemed like a game. there hadn't been any lessons, and she and Tristram and Dulcie spent their days swimming in the gentle waters of the cove. Several times during the day either her mother or
Basil
would call to them and
reassure
them that all was well. Then one day Basil told her that the man had died. Four days later, the elder of the two women died. She was expecting to hear the news when Basil told her that the other women died shortly after that. She had been disappointed when Basil insisted that they would remain in their lean-to on the beach. She thought that they would return to the hut now that the strangers had died. But Basil wouldn't even let them come near. He said the people had died of fever.

Basil had not wished for them to become infected, Lily remembered. She could still smell the smoke from the fire when Basil had burned all of the clothes and mats that had been in the shelter. She left fresh clothes and supplies for them at the edge of the forest and, under Basil's orders, left before he approached to collect them. It had been a week later when her mother had not called to them as she had every day before.

Hearing someone approaching from the beach, Lily left the others and ran forward, only to be halted by Basil's upraised hand. Lily was shocked at how ill he looked. She looked past him, searching for her mother's familiar figure, but the beach beyond was empty. Lily knew the truth when she met Basil's glazed, red-rimmed eyes. His haggard face bore the trace of tears.

"The fever took her, Lily," he said very softly. "I buried her under the tree she liked to sit under. You must look after your brother and sister, Lily. I am placing them in your care now." He was shivering uncontrollably even though he was standing in the sunlight. "If I cannot come again. If you do not hear from me in the next few days, do not come into the shelter. Promise me you will obey me, Lily. Promise me, Lily," he had begged her. "Burn the hut. That is the only way you will be safe. Burn it, Lily. Leave my body inside. You know I love you, Lily. You are my daughter as much as Dulcie is. I promised your father I would take care of his family. I always tried, Lily. I do not believe he would have wanted Magdalena to have lived out the rest of her life alone. Let me rest in peace knowing that his son and daughter, at least, are safe."

When she had nodded her agreement, she saw a strange look enter his eyes. He glanced past her to where Tristram and Dulcie stood waiting, and he waved to them.

That was the last time they saw Basil. A week passed before Lily
approached
the shelter where Basil Lay. It was dawn, and the light was faintly illuminating the inside of the lean-to. She stood just outside, staring into its shadowy confines. She could see Basil clearly. She stood there watching him until the sun started to go down. He never moved.

That night, the sky was lit with flames. The next day, when the ashes had cooled, Lily and Tristram carefully carried all that was left of the fire to the grave they had dug next to the one marked with a delicate wooden cross.

Whenever Lily walked along the sands and glanced toward the tall pine on the edge of the forest, she could see the two simple crosses. Her mother and Basil were together, and it gave her comfort, for she felt as if they were still with them, sharing their days.

"Hey, Lily! You want to come in for a swim?" Tristram called out to her.

Lily stared down at Tristram, who had just dived into the clear waters of the cove. She could see him swimming just beneath the surface. When his head popped up, he held up a large, conical shell triumphantly. There was a wide grin on his face as he said, "Dinner!"

Tossing the pink conch shell up on the beach, he dove again, coming to the surface nearer the rocks this time. "Are you coming in?" he asked as he stared up at Lily, who still remained sitting underneath the pine, Cisco perched on her shoulder.

"No, I don't think I will. I should get the fire going before sunset."

"You haven't
come swimming all week, Lily,"
Tristram complained. "Don't you like to swim anymore?"

"I
like to swim!" Dulcie cried out as she paddled like a turtle in the shallows.

"Maybe tomorrow," Lily said noncommittally.

"That's what you said yesterday," Tristram grumbled before he dived back under the warm waters of the cove, swimming away with carefree abandon.

Lily got to her feet and smoothed the wrinkles in her shift. With a sigh, she noticed the rounding of her breasts. It seemed to her critical eye that they got bigger every day. Enviously, Lily looked at Dulcie, swimming in naked innocence in the pool, and she found herself wishing to be so free again.

The sky was ablaze with crimson and gold and purple when they finished their meal. Leaving the washing up until later, they
walked
down to the shore. The gentle, melodic lapping of the tide lulled them into restfulness as they stretched out on the sands that were still warm from the sun and began their game of searching for the first star of night.

Tristram was lying with his arms folded behind this head as he stared up at the darkening sky. Dulcie had snuggled close against Lily's side, while Capabells climbed onto her lap.

"Tell me about the legend of the wild white horses, Lily," Dulcie asked.

"You know it already," Tristram said. "I see it! I see the first star! Over there!" he cried.

"You always see the first star. It isn't fair," Dulcie said petulantly.

"There! See, Dulcie!" Lily said urgently, pointing out a glistening crest of white foaming against the sunken coral reefs beyond the cove. "They're coming!"

"The wild white horses," Dulcie breathed in awe.

"See how they dance and prance and jump so high. They might even jump over Tristram's star."

Dulcie giggled.

"They're going to race faster than the winds. Past the mermaid's cave and the sea dragon's lair. Past the jagged reefs and sunken ships. They kick up their heels in a giant wave of sea foam and sail past seahorses and flying fish. With seaweed strung with golden doubloons for the reins and a starfish for a saddle, bearded Neptune, astride his great horse, Pegasus, rises from his castle beneath the sea. He'll capture the wild white horses and in his chariot of brightly colored coral he'll ride across the waves and catch us up in his silver net sprinkled with twinkling stars and carry us far across the seas, past the sun and the moon."