The Emerald Key - By Christopher Dinsdale Page 0,63
listened to a bass splash in the water beside the dock as it leapt high in the air for an evening snack. The hungry fish reminded him of the gooseberry pie. Turning, he strolled back toward the gatehouse. He could see Rodney, his partner, sipping on a freshly made cup of tea. A spot of tea and a slice of pie on a cool night like this will be the perfect start to the shift, Denny thought to himself as he reached for the door.
Beyond the gatehouse, a wire-linked fence cut across the dock in order to keep trespassers at bay. Three young teenagers, a girl and two boys, were fishing off the dock on the other side of the fence. They’d been at it since he’d first arrived.
“Don’t you think it’s time you youngsters head back home to your parents?” Denny called out. “It’s getting late.”
“We’ll be going soon,” shouted the girl. “I first want to try out this new night jigger. My pa made it out of balsa wood last week!”
“Good luck, then,” replied Denny, twisting the handle.
Denny had heard about these new night jiggers. He made a mental note to give one a try next time he went out with his own rod and reel.
“Hey Rodney, do you mind pouring me …”
“Whoa! It’s huge! Oh my gosh, don’t let go of the rod! Help! We need help!”
Denny stuck his head back outside the door. “Are you kids all right?”
The girl and boy held the second boy by the waist. “He’s got a monster fish on the line! Maybe a muskie! He’s going to fall in!”
Dennis hesitated. “A muskie? Are you sure?”
Just the mention of a mighty muskellunge, the St. Lawrence’s number one prized fish, got his attention. He’d hate to see this kid lose a once-in-a-lifetime fish. Must have been the lure. He had to get a look at their magical night jigger while he had the chance.
“Rodney,” he called into the shack. “I’ll be right back.”
“All right, Denny,” the other man replied. “I’ll have the tea waiting.”
Denny jogged to the fence while fumbling through his key chain. Quickly unlocking the gate, he ran over to the children. The boy’s rod was bent right over and he was fighting the fish like crazy. The other two had their feet dug in and were still hanging on to his waist.
“I can’t hold on!” cried the boy. “Please, sir, help me land him!”
“Sure, son, let me grab ahold of the rod. Good. All right, I got it!”
Denny took the rod, expecting his arms to be pulled out of their sockets, but surprisingly, it didn’t happen. In fact, it just hung there like the hook was attached to a sunken log.
“Hey, kid, I don’t think … whoa!”
Distracted by the rod, Denny didn’t see the three kids quietly move in behind him and with a terrific push, they sent the night watchman flying off the dock. A second later, there was a tremendous splash in the river below.
Rodney Leary had just finished making the second cup of tea when he heard the splash.
“Help!” called a girl. “The guard has fallen into the river!”
“What?” called Rodney, confused. He stepped out the door and saw the open gate.
“Denny, where are —”
Rodney’s world went black as something heavy was thrown over his head. Suddenly, dozens of hands were wrestling him to the ground while his wrists and ankles were bound with rope. The soggy night watchman was also rescued from the water, blindfolded, and tied up beside his partner in the gatehouse. Jamie Galway strode around the room and congratulated all the orphans.
“Well done. And don’t worry, these men will be released by the workers when they arrive in the morning. We don’t have much time. Follow me.”
As the collection of youngsters made their way out of the gatehouse, the oldest of the orphans, Daniel Kenny, leaned down to Beth.
“I thought you said Jamie was a priest.”
“He is.”
“So far he’s sprung a dozen orphans out of an orphanage, abducted a pair of night watchmen, and now we’re going to steal a full-sized steamship?”
She smiled and pointed up. “All for the Greater Good.”
Daniel guffawed. “I don’t recall a story like this in the Bible.”
“Look, Jamie explained this all to me. We didn’t hurt the watchmen, and we’re only borrowing the boat. This shipping company owes us one. He told me how many hundreds of Irish have died on their ships coming over from Ireland, including probably some of our parents. And we’re not stealing it.