Anton and Cecil (12 page)

“Who let this mangy fat fellow on board?” the captain growled, glaring down at Cecil. “We have a cat. We don't need another.” He struck Cecil with the side of his tall boot and sent him tumbling head over tail across the deck.

Cecil rolled onto his feet and crouched.
What was
that
for?
he thought angrily.
These pirates are nuts!

Gretchen sprang past him. “This way,” she hissed, and Cecil followed, his mind whirling.
So the stones
are
worth something,
he thought. He felt anxious about the glowing white beauty he had brought with him, still hidden in the knothole. At least, he hoped it was still there. Would Gretchen help him get on the captain's good side?
Whatever happens,
Cecil thought,
that stone is my ticket. I'd better use it well.

Cecil followed Gretchen among the kegs, barrels, crates, and seamen's legs on deck to the narrow steps that led down into the galley. At the second step she stopped and looked up at a porthole, which was set into the low slanted ceiling overhead. It struck Cecil as an odd place to put a window.

“Come sit here,” she said, motioning him to her side. “And tell me what you see.” He stepped down toward her, his eyes up on the porthole. The only thing he could see through it was a set of dark steps that seemed to lead down into darkness. But that was impossible because he knew there was nothing out there but the wide, flat deck.

“Is it a picture?” Cecil asked uncertainly.

Gretchen watched him with amusement. “What do you think?” she asked. “Move over this way. Take another look.”

Cecil sat beside her and looked up at the glass. He gasped and stared openmouthed. Two cats sitting side by side were looking down at him through the porthole. He didn't recognize one of them, but the other had a most distinctive face. “That's you!” he cried, pointing at the smaller one with white and black fur. “Did someone paint you?” he asked, impressed.

Gretchen shook her head. “It's me, but not a painting,” she said mysteriously. “Who's that other guy?”

Cecil studied the other cat. He was a big fellow with sparkling golden eyes and black fur with white whiskers. He looked kind of unkempt and reckless, and quite well-fed. Cecil liked the looks of him, actually.

“Well,
he
must be some sort of . . .” but he broke off, noticing with a shock that the big cat in the porthole had
also
raised his paw to point. “What's going on here?” he asked, as he and the porthole cat moved their paws up and down in sync.

“It's you!” laughed Gretchen. “It's a glass that shows you yourself. I think they call it a ‘meer.' Isn't it funny?
This
is how I know what I look like.”

Cecil began to understand. “That's . . . me?” he asked hesitantly. He straightened up and the porthole cat's face came closer. He put on his most menacing expression, holding up a paw and popping out his claws.
Hmmm, not bad
. He tried a knowing grin, and then a mischievous glance.
Nice!

Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Okay. Come on, Mr. Full of Yourself, we've got to move. They'll be bringing stuff down here soon, and there's something else I want to show you.” She turned back toward the deck. Cecil sent himself a regretful farewell salute in the porthole and followed her. No sooner were their feet on the deck than a crewman stomped up and kicked a barrel he was pushing onto its side. The cats sprang away and the sailor rolled the barrel noisily down the steps.

“Over here!” called Gretchen, leading the way. Cecil sprinted after her, suddenly finding himself balanced precariously on the bowsprit, a long thin spar jutting out over the water on the very front of the ship. “Come out a little farther,” she suggested. “We're out of the way here.” She promptly began cleaning her tail, seemingly oblivious to the waves directly below.

Cecil edged out a few more inches, then settled his girth as best he could on the narrow spar. Looking down at the sea in the orange light of the sunset, he noticed the figure of a fabulous creature carved under the bow, in the same space where the two little girls had been on Anton's ship, the
Mary Anne
. This figure had a cat's face, surrounded by a magnificent circle of fur, and deep, wide eyes that appeared brave and wise.

“Amazing, huh?” asked Gretchen, following his gaze. “They call this ship the
Leone
. I've never seen a cat like that.”

Cecil sat silently. The figurehead had brought Anton back to his mind,
where he should always be, if I'm ever going to find him,
thought Cecil reproachfully. Gretchen seemed to read his thoughts.

“Have you had any news yet about Anton?” she asked. “Have you picked up his trail at all?”

Cecil looked pained. “Nope.” He sighed. “No idea where he is now. But . . .” He glanced up at her. “There have been a few strange signs, I guess.”

“Like what?” she asked, stretching out her front paws along the bowsprit and sharpening her claws on the sides.

“Well, this will sound crazy,” he said, “but I'm sure there's a huge and very old whale following me. Don't know what he's up to.” He squinted off at the horizon. “And I've heard now a couple of times about some ‘eye' up in the sky, and also a saying where one eye meets another eye.” He shook his head and sighed again in frustration.

Gretchen sat up slowly and looked fixedly at Cecil. “An eye, yes,” she said softly, as if talking to herself. “I've heard the saying, too, from Billy and my grandmother back in the village.” She looked at the sky and her voice rose a little. “I think I saw it once—it's kind of misty, white and glowing, shining down on you in such a comforting way. And it tells you things, important things, without using words. You just get a feeling . . .”

Cecil looked up, too, but the slate blue sky was thick with muddy clouds, even covering the rising moon. “What feeling?” he asked quietly.

She paused and looked down again before speaking. “It . . . it told me to take heart, find my way back,” she said. She nodded slightly and continued. “My grandmother told me the legend. She and Billy are the only ones who still remember it. Do you know my grandmother Mildred?”

“Sure, I've seen her,” said Cecil. “But what
is
the legend? My mother never told us.”

“It's an old cats' tale,” Gretchen said, looking out over the waves, her gray eyes dark in the dusky light. She spoke softly. “The legend is that long ago, when cats began to be stolen from their homes and families and impressed into service on ships, there was no one to look after them. One young and kindhearted cat had been impressed by a crew that traveled through all of the widest oceans, and after many years and many voyages, he became old and very wise in the ways of ships and sailors. When the old cat's ship sank in a terrible storm and he drowned, the spirit protectors of the world pulled him from the depths of the ocean and sent him into the sky. And now his eye watches over all lost cats at sea.”

“Huh,” said Cecil, resting his chin on his front paws. “You believe this story?”

“I don't know,” Gretchen said thoughtfully. “I'd
like
to believe it.” She briefly rubbed a paw over one ear. “Anyway, there's more.”

Cecil swished his tail from side to side. “How much more?”

“Just a little,” said Gretchen. “My grandmother also says there is a messenger in the ocean, some sort of creature who serves the spirit in the sky, protecting lost cats and helping them find their way home.”

“What kind of creature? Like a fish?” asked Cecil, thinking of all the fish he'd devoured recently.

Gretchen shook her head. “No one knows. But the saying goes: Where the eye sees the eye, the lost shall be found.”

Cecil lifted his head. “Well, Anton's lost.”

Gretchen opened her eyes wide. “You are, too.”

“And let's not forget
you,
right?” Cecil countered. “We're all three of us lost and far from home. But two of us are together now. So that's a start.”

Gretchen gave him a wondering look and nodded. “That's true,” she agreed.

The sudden rattle of heavy chains against the deck boards startled them, and Cecil struggled briefly to hang on to the spar as they glanced over to the deck. The crewmen moved purposefully now, tying down loose items and arranging the rigging. They were departing.

“Quick, come on!” called Gretchen, and she took one long leap, hurdling Cecil and landing expertly on the deck railing before dashing away.
Impressive,
thought Cecil. He turned precariously and followed at a gallop, trying to keep her in sight. He didn't know what she would do next; he liked that about her. But she had agreed that two might be better than one, so he made up his mind to trust her.

Cecil dragged the small red bag from its hiding place, stepped into the side room with Gretchen, and dropped the bag on the floor. He pressed on the silk cloth with his paws until the white stone rolled out onto the floor between them and lay glowing faintly in the torchlight streaming in through the open doorway. Cecil looked at it and back at Gretchen. She looked at him and down at the stone.

“I stole this from the captain of my ship,” Cecil said evenly, watching her face. “I thought I might give it to your captain. Maybe he'll quit kicking me.”

Gretchen seemed bewildered. “Yes, he'd be pleased, I'm sure, but . . .” Her face clouded over and she stood up. “Why didn't you tell me about this when you first got here?”

Cecil took a big breath and let it out again. He didn't know what to say.

“You thought I'd take it,” she said slowly. “You thought I'd steal it and give it to the captain myself, didn't you?”

Cecil shifted uncomfortably and looked away. “Well, you might have,” he said. “I don't know, you still could. You seem to like being the only cat aboard!”

Gretchen stared at him. “Do you know how lonely it is being the only cat aboard?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” Cecil replied, standing to face her. “And it's awful, and I'd rather stay here.” His eyes dropped to the white stone. “But it's kind of up to you now, isn't it?”

There was a long silence. They both sat down, carefully arranging their tails. Gretchen looked at him. Cecil knew that she was the quicker cat, that she could easily grab the stone and run. He knew he had to wait for her to choose his future. And he knew that she knew this as well. But his face remained perfectly peaceful, his golden eyes just barely smiling at her.

Finally, Gretchen smiled back. “Come on, shipmate,” she said with a sigh at last. “Bring your stone. There's someone you need to meet.” She turned to the door.

Cecil picked up the stone in his mouth once more and together they walked, their tails in the air, to the captain's quarters.