“I wish adventures had never been invented,” said Brenda. “No, dear Lucy, I am not whining. Far from it. But if a dear little dog might suggest it, we should all be better in a home, should we not?”
All eyes now perceived a dark hole in the roof, a round hole exactly in the middle of the shining dome. And as they gazed the dark hole became light. And they saw above them a white shining disk like a very large and very bright moon. It was the light of day.
“Someone has opened the trap-door,” said Lucy. “The Ingots always closed their treasure-vaults with trap-doors.”
The bright disk was obscured; confused shapes broke its shining roundness. Then another disk, small and very black appeared in the middle of it; the black disk grew larger and larger and larger. It was coming down to them. Slowly and steadily it came; now it reached the level of the dome, now it hung below it; down, down, down it came, past the level of their eager eyes and splashed in the water close by the ship. It was a large empty bucket. The rope which held it was jerked from above; the bucket dipped and filled and was drawn up again slowly and steadily till it disappeared in the hole in the roof.
“Quick,” said the parrot, “get the ship exactly under the hole, and next time the bucket comes down you can go up in it.”
“This is out of the Arabian Nights, I think,” said Lucy, when the yacht was directly under the hole in the roof. “But who is it that keeps on opening the books? Somebody must be pulling Polistopolis down.”
“The Pretenderette, I shouldn’t wonder,” said Philip gloomily. “She isn’t the Deliverer, so she must be the Destroyer. Nobody else can get into Polistarchia, you know.”
“There’s me.”
“Oh, you’re Deliverer too.”
“Thank you,” said Lucy gratefully. “But there’s Helen.”
“She was only on the Island, you know; she couldn’t come to Polistarchia. Look out!”
The bucket was descending again, and instead of splashing in the water it bumped on the deck.
“You go first,” said Philip to Lucy.
“And you,” said Max to Brenda.
“Oh, I’ll go first if you like,” said Philip.
“Yes,” said Max, “I’ll go first if you like, Brenda.”
You see Philip felt that he ought to give Lucy the first chance of escaping from the poor Lightning Loose. Yet he could not be at all sure what it was that she would be escaping to. And if there was danger overhead, of course he ought to be the one to go first to face it. And the worthy Max felt the same about Brenda.
And Lucy felt just the same as they did. I don’t know what Brenda felt. She whined a little. Then for one moment Lucy and Philip stood on the deck each grasping the handle of the bucket and looking at each other, and the dogs looked at them, and the parrot looked at everyone in turn. An impatient jerk and shake of the rope from above reminded them that there was no time to lose.
Lucy decided that it was more dangerous to go than to stay, just at the same moment when Philip decided that it was more dangerous to stay than to go, so when Lucy stepped into the bucket Philip helped her eagerly. Max thought the same as Philip, and I am afraid Brenda agreed with them. At any rate she leaped into Lucy’s lap and curled her long length round just as the rope tightened and the bucket began to go up. Brenda screamed faintly, but her scream was stifled at once.
“I’ll send the bucket down again the moment I get up,” Lucy called out; and a moment later, “it feels awfully jolly, like a swing.”
And so saying she was drawn up into the hole in the roof of the dome. Then a sound of voices came down the shaft, a confused sound; the anxious little party on the Lightning Loose could not make out any distinct words. They all stood staring up, expecting, waiting for the bucket to come down again.
“I hate leaving the ship,” said Philip.
“You shall be the last to leave her,” said the parrot consolingly; “that is if we can manage about Max without your having to sit on him in the bucket if he gets in first.”
“But how about you?” said Philip.
A little arrogantly the parrot unfolded half a bright wing.
“Oh!” said Philip enlightened and reminded. “Of course! And you might have flown away at any time. And yet you stuck to us. I say, you know, that was jolly decent of you.”
“Not at all,” said the parrot with conscious modesty.
“But it was,” Philip insisted. “You might have—hullo!” cried Philip. The bucket came down again with a horrible rush. They held their breaths and looked to see the form of Lucy hurtling through the air. But no, the bucket swung loose a moment in midair, then it was hastily drawn up, and a hollow metallic clang echoed through the cavern.
“Brenda!” the cry was wrung from the heart of the sober self-contained Max.
“My wings and claws!” exclaimed the parrot.
“Oh, bother!” said Philip.
There was some excuse for these expressions of emotion. The white disk overhead had suddenly disappeared. Someone up above had banged the lid down. And all the manly hearts were below in the cave, and brave Lucy and helpless Brenda were above in a strange place, whose dangers those below could only imagine.
“I wish I’d gone,” said Philip. “Oh, I wish I’d gone.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Max, with a deep sigh.
“I feel a little faint,” said the parrot; “if someone would make a cup of cocoa.”
Thus did the excellent bird seek to occupy their minds in that first moment of disaster. And it was well that the captain and crew were thus saved from despair. For before the kettle boiled, the lid of
