Timothy of the Cay Read Online Free PDF Page A

even enjoy them.
    Nyborg ended the tour by showing him where he'd live—a narrow berth just off the galley in the forward house. His final words this first morning were, "I catch you stealing anything, I'll throw you overboard."
    "Yes, sirrah." He'd yet to steal anything. Ever. Tante Hannah would have whopped him good.
    His heartbeats slackened as the mate walked out of the galley. It wasn't so much what Nyborg said. It was the way he said it. It was the way the blue eyes went into Timothy's and out the back of his head. It was the way Nyborg held his hands. They looked as if they could form fists any second. Smash faces.
    The cook was Porto Rican, Timothy guessed. He was standing by the stove. He waited until the mate was well out of range, then said, "
Muy malo.
"
    Timothy did not understand Spanish but the tone of the cook's voice, what his dark eyes were saying, and the gesture of his hands, were a clear warning:
Watch out.
    He nodded a thank-you and went aft to begin practice on making the master's bed, with the just-so corners.
    On Wednesday, the day before the
Amager
was to sail, Tante Hannah took four
kroner
out of the hiding place in the shack and walked down the hill with Timothy.
    "Ah'll pay yuh bock, Tante Hannah," he said, nodding his head as a promise.
    "'Tis a gift," she said, smiling as they trudged along.
    They finally turned in at Lilliendahl's, on Kronprindsen's Gade, and Hannah said, grandly, "Mah son needs shoes."
    The clerk said, knowingly, "First pair ever?"
    Hannah shrugged, deciding not to admit that outright.
    The clerk measured Timothy's left foot and made a remark about the large size. Timothy
was
large for his age. Then he lifted a pair off the shelf and brought them over.
    "Cowhide, made in
København,
" the clerk said. They were brown, made in Copenhagen.
    To Timothy they appeared to be made of gold, in heaven. Though he'd never told Tante Hannah he would like shoes, he'd thought about them.
Bukra
boys had shoes, though they didn't wear them all the time.
    The right one slid on and the clerk said, "Stand up and walk around."
    Timothy smiled at Tante Hannah and she nodded.
    The shoe pinched but he thought that was what any shoe would do. He walked around, grinning at Tante Hannah.
His first shoe!
    "Let's try the left one," the clerk said, and Timothy sat down again.
    In a moment he walked in a circle around Tante Hannah with both shoes on. His wide grin was enough reward for her this day.
    She paid and they left Lilliendahl's.
    Halfway up the hill, Timothy stopped, grin gone. "Mah feet hurt, Tante Hannah," he admitted. They were already blistered. Dismay was on his face.
    She laughed and sat down by the path. "Gib 'em to me."
    He sat down beside her as she worked them back and forth. "De feet say tek it easy. Dey don' know shoes."
    In a few minutes they resumed the journey, Timothy barefoot again. But a short distance from Back o' All he put on the shoes so he could parade through the shantytown for everyone to see.
    ***
    Timothy did not sleep well, thinking about boarding the
Amager
at dawn, knowing it would be months before he saw Tante Hannah and Back o' All again. Though he felt a hollowness about that, he smiled in the darkness about going to sea, at long last, on this day—the fore, main, and mizzen sails bellied out over his head. (He knew the names of the sails from watching and asking on the wharf.) Soon, he'd feel the rush of ocean beneath the
Amager's
keel.
    But he'd also fix the island and Tante Hannah in his mind and think of them often. He'd gone many places with her when she foraged for her weeds and he knew the island's beauty. There was color everywhere, the reds of the flame and frangipani trees, the yellows of the pudding pipe tree. Hibiscus were everywhere, in a half dozen colors. The perfume of flowers was constantly in the clean air. There was the warm water around the island, blue on the surface, clear beneath, washing white over the reefs. There were the powdery