The Silver Casket Read Online Free PDF Page B

its side. The Rusty Blade.
    Stanley told Daisy to steer right up to the underside of the ship. It wasn’t easy, by any
means, but somehow she managed it.
    â€œPerfect,” said Stanley. “Hang on here.” He pulled himself up onto the side of the boat with the aid of the anchor chain that speared downward through the water. He had the Ibis tucked neatly into his inside pocket.
    There was no one on deck. That was a stroke of luck. Stanley crept across the boards to the main mast and clambered up toward the yellow flag. Then when he could grasp hold of it, he tore it hastily from the ropes and shoved it inside his shirt.
    â€œNow where on earth are you going?” whispered Daisy as loud as she dared.
    â€œJust making a little delivery,” he said, waving the Ibis at her with a spare hand.
    Daisy was confused, but she trusted his judgment and knew that if she did her job and kept the boat right there waiting for him,
everything would be all right.

    She sat and watched him lurch down the barnacled side of the rotting ship. He wasn’t far from the water before he stopped and dug his hand into a rotted hole. He tore at it fiercely until it was big
enough for him to sneak through. Bits of splintered wood plopped into the waves.
    Daisy cringed, clenching her sweating hands into fists. She did not know what she would do if someone appeared. She watched until the soles of Stanley’s shoes were the last thing to drop through the hole.
    Inside, Stanley crept around in the dark. He had stumbled into the crew’s quarters, and knew that he had to scramble his way down to the stores at the bottom of the ship without being found by any of the spirits that lurked on board.
    He felt his way along the slime and grease that seemed to coat the ship’s sides. Voices grew nearer. Too near.
    Stanley hurried as much as he could. He had decided to place the Ibis in the ballast at the bottom of the ship. Here it would be
concealed, and no one would stumble on it. He was sure that we would be able to make it back to the ship to reclaim it when this was all over.
    Something opened up to reveal a lower level. He stepped down carefully and felt for the floor beneath him. A layer of cold hard stones. This was it, the ballast. The stones were used as a weight to stabilize the frame of the ship.
    In the far corner, he found a memorable spot. Bilge rats scurried over his hands and around his feet as he burrowed his fingers through the hard rugged surface that cut at his knuckles. He buried the Ibis right there, wrapped in its cloth protection.
    And then he made his way back through the blackness the way he had come.

    â€œWhat’s that?” asked Scribbles Flanaghan, pricking up an ear, and his dreadful figure stepped into the light of the oil lamp. A cascade of endless tattoos was illuminated in the dark, and his two yellowy eyes opened wider.
    â€œI can’ear somethin’. Down in the stores. Ain’t no one down in the stores, is there? Mister Smiff, will you be so kind as to investigate and while you’re at it, take Mister Doyle with yer in case someone needs a reminder that we ain’t’ere to be messed with!”

    â€œAye, aye, Mister Flanaghan, sir. Seafood Smiff at your service.” He got to his feet, swallowing a handful of cockles, and was followed by Doyle into the damp darkness of the hold.
    Stanley was still feeling his way back and he cringed as he creaked on the floorboards.
    â€œThere’s someone’ere, or that’s a huge rat I can’ear,” said Doyle. “And when I get my’ands on’em I’m gonna do’em some damage.”
    Abruptly and unintentionally, Stanley’s outstretched hand landed in Doyle’s grizzly face.
    â€œAgghhhh!” They both screamed, but Doyle held on to Stanley’s arm and twisted it as he gripped.
    â€œWho goes there? Friend or foe?” said Doyle as he squeezed tightly.
    Stanley felt the cold slimy