while began purring and came down to rub itself against Ned's leg. Mrs. Winn smiled approvingly as she came out to
fetch the rest of her apple pie and cream. Returning to the parlor, she set it down in front of her guest.
"Boys always like apple pie; help yourself, son, you look as if you could use some more. Go on, don't be shy!"
Ben took another generous slice. "Thanks . . . Winnie, we haven't had much to eat since yesterday morning."
As he ate, the blue-eyed boy studied the portrait over the mantelpiece. "Is that your husband's picture? Anchor
Line cap'n, eh?"
Mrs. Winn stared curiously at him. "Not many lads your age would know that the Royal Navy is called the
Anchor Line. Are you a seafarer, Ben?"
The boy took a thoughtful sip of lemonade. "Not really. I've knocked about on barges and coasters as a galley
lad. You hear things about the sea . . . it's always interested me. I've read quite a lot of sea stories, too."
The boy did not like lying to the old woman, but he knew he could not tell her the truth. Who would believe that
he and Ned had sailed on the Flying Dutchman in the year 1620! It would strain any credibility to believe that boy and
dog were still alive and well, ageless, in the year 1896.
He caught Mrs. Winn staring at him intensely and turned away as she asked, "I won't tell anyone, Ben, where
are you really from?"
He shrugged. "I think I was born in Denmark, Copenhagen, but I'm not sure. Ned's from there, we've always
been together. We've lived in quite a few places ... here and there."
Mrs. Winn shook her head, perplexed. "I'll bet you have. Any parents, brothers or sisters?"
"Not that I know of, ma . . . Winnie. I was planning on staying in Chapelvale for a while, as soon as I can find
somewhere that allows dogs. I don't suppose you'd know of a place?"
Mrs. Winn suddenly felt sorry for her strange visitor. He looked so young, so alone. Concern showed in her
voice. "You mean that you haven't anywhere to stay?"
Ben nodded. "I've got money. I could pay for lodgings, and I'd see Ned didn't bother anybody."
The old lady sat watching the boy. The flat grandfather clock chimes rang out four-thirty. Ben had finished the
last morsel of apple pie when his dog came from the kitchen and lay down contentedly, his head resting on the hoy's
sculled boot. Fidgeting and fussing with her apron corner, Winnie looked up to the ornate molded ceiling, then down
to her husband's portrait, finally settling on Ben.
Something in her eyes told him she had reached a decision. Tapping her worn gold wedding ring against the
chair arm, Mrs. Winn pursed her lips. "You aren't in any kind of trouble, are you, my boy?"
Ben sat up straight. "Certainly not, Miz Winn!"
She touched his hand reassuringly. "I believe you. You said you were thinking of staying in Chapelvale for a
while. I suppose that means you'll be moving on one day. Hmm, you're a puzzle, Ben. There's more to you and your
dog than meets the eye, a lot more."
She cleared away the plates and glasses, watching the crestfallen lad out of the corner of her eye. "Shall we say
that you can stay here for a few days, then? I don't think those bullies will bother coming 'round to harass me if they
see Ned wandering in the garden."
Ben brightened up immediately. "Oh, thank you, marm! Ned'll keep them away and I'll help you 'round the
house and do your shopping for you, and I can pay for lodgings, too. I have money, you know...."
Mrs. Winn held up her hand, cutting Ben off frostily. "Please, I'm not rich, but I have enough to get by on with
Captain Winn's pension. I'm not beholden to anybody, and I don't need you to pay me—I'm allowing you to stay here
as a friend."
Ned passed a thought to his master. "What a nice old lady Winnie is. This place feels just like home, whatever
home's supposed to feel like. Don't forget to thank her for me. I've been trying to talk with that cat, Horatio, but he's
not got much to say for himself. It must be with his having no other creatures to speak to that he's lost the art of
conversation, poor fellow."
Ben answered the dog's thoughts. "Well, when you do finally get chatting together, see what you can find out
from him. It might give us a clue as to why we've been sent here."
Mrs. Winn tapped Ben's shoulder. "Are you listening to what I'm saying, young man?"
"What, oh, er, sorry, Miz Winn. I must have dozed off!"
The old lady chuckled. "Hmm, you looked as if you were ready to drop off there, sitting and staring at the dog. I
was just saying that you and Ned could take the rear upstairs bedroom. I sleep down here in the small sitting room
nowadays. My left leg's not too good, I need help getting upstairs. Perhaps you'd best go and take a nap. There's a nice
bathroom up there, too."
Ben rose gratefully. "Thank you, Miz Winn. Thanks for everything from both of us. I think I will take a bath
and a nap."
The old lady took Ben's hand. "Help me upstairs and I'll show you your room. I'll have dinner ready for you
both at seven. Come on, Ned, good boy!"
The Labrador looked questioningly at Ben. "I don't mind the nap, but a bath's out of the question. It's not half an
hour since I had a good scratch and lick!"
Ben tugged at the black Lab's tail as they went upstairs. "Miz Winn means me, not you!"
It was a comfortable room with a soft, old-fashioned bed. Ben picked up a framed sepia photograph from the
bedside table. A young man and woman with two small boys stood on a palm-fronded verandah. The boy studied it.
"Hmm, looks like India or Ceylon, some sort of plantation."
Mrs. Winn was mildly surprised at her strange guest's knowledge, yet looking at his wise blue eyes, it seemed
right somehow that he should know about the photograph. "Your second guess was correct, Ben. It's Ceylon. That's
my son Jim with his family—he manages a tea plantation for a British company out there. I've not yet seen his wife
Lilian, or the children. That photograph is all I have of them. Maybe someday they'll come over for a visit...."
Mrs. Winn suddenly looked very sad, and she sighed. "Still, maybe it would be better for me if they stayed in
Ceylon."
Ben became curious. "Why do you say that, Winnie?"
She shuffled slowly out of the room as she replied. "I'll tell you at dinner. Stay where you are, lad, I can manage
going downstairs on my own quite well."
After a good hot bath, Ben dressed in a clean change of clothing from his canvas bag and lay on the bed,
watching a shaft of late day sunlight on the floral wallpaper. Birdsong from the garden and the distant rumble of a
train sounded pleasant and comforting. He drifted off into a slumber, happy that Ned and he had found somewhere to
stay.
The dream stole unbidden into his sleep. Gale-force winds sweeping over a heaving deck, tattered sails framed
against a storm-ripped sky, great grey-green waves rushing across the raging main. He was clinging to the dog as they
were washed overboard through the shattered midship rails.
Water, water, the earth was awash in wild seawater, pounding in his ears, filling his nostrils, that odd faraway
sound of muffled breath escaping beneath the ocean's surface. Then spray churning white as he and the dog surfaced
in the vessel's wake. He tried to swim with one hand, whilst clinging to the dog's collar with the other, when he was
struck by a spar and his dream became cascades of colored lights, exploding from the darkness. A velvety calm