"Andre Norton - The Opal-Eyed Fan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

"Tell me about New York," she commanded.
Persis had just started to speak when she was inter-rupted by a loud braying noise. In a second Lydia was on
her feet, heading for the door of the house.
"Ship sighted—" She gave only that small bit of in-formation as she darted within.
Catching some of her hostess' excitement, Persis fol-lowed. Lydia was already near the top of the stairs, her
skirts gathered up in both hands so she could climb faster.
Three flights they climbed, the third much narrow-er and more steep—to emerge on a flat space open to the
roof, railed about. Lydia jerked a spyglass out of a box fastened against that rail. With it to one eye she peered
seaward.
"He dared it!" her voice was high with excitement. "That's the Stormy Luck coming in, it is!" She was smiling
now. "Oh, won't Crewe be furious! I can hard-ly wait to see his face when he finds her here."
"Is that your brother's ship—?" Persis was puzzled.
"No. His is the Nonpareil. They're trying to get the Arrow off that reef. This is Ralph's ship—Ralph Gril-lon.
He's from the Bahamas."
"But I thought," Persis shaded her eyes, but with-out the aid of a glass all she could make out was a dis-tant
shadow, "that the Bahama wreckers did not come into these waters—"
Lydia made an impatient sound. "The sea isn't fenced in like a field. And the Bahama men were
here long before us. They have their rights, even though people like Crewe are too high-handed to credit
them with such. Ralph takes the Stormy Luck where he wants—and it can show its stern well away from
any cutter out of Key West that tries to make trouble. Anyway, Ralph—" now her smile was both amused
and sly, "has a special reason for coming here." With-out offering the glass to Persis she fitted it back in its
case.
"But even he can't make the wind stronger," she continued. "It may be several hours before—"
Then she paused, looking no longer to the sea but down to what lay immediately below the house. And her
smile vanished in a distinct scowl.
Persis followed the other's gaze. The mound on which the house had been erected might be ground
linked with the rest of the key on the opposite side, but here water lapped at its foot and there was a
channel, leading straight out to sea. The channel opening was flanked by the wharf still piled high with bales
and boxes.
A small boat had been launched from the wharf, two men at its oars, and it was at that Lydia
stared. She made a fist which she brought down with some force on the railing.
"Johnny Mason!" she spat the name. "He heard the conch horn and he's off to tell Crewe, the
meddler!" She shrugged. "Let him. It won't profit him—or Crewe any."
Lydia whisked to the top of the ladder like stairs which Persis had not noticed were so very steep
when she had climbed them. Now she descended with cau-tion, guessing Lydia to be lost in her own
thoughts and forgetful of her. However, in the upper hall, the other girl paused to look over her shoulder.
That look of discontent, faint as it had been, was gone. Her smile no longer was either angry or sly.
"You asked about the Lost Lady," she dismissed the subject of the Stormy Luck and its captain, rather to
Persis' bewilderment. "I'll have time to show you the fan—the ghost fan itself."
Now she linked arms with Persis—as if they were the best and closest of friends, leaving Persis a little
dis-turbed at this swift change—and drew her into a bed-room which flanked the stair at the head of the hall.
"Sukie," Lydia spoke impatiently to the black maid who was folding body linen away in the drawers of a
magnificently carved chest, "you can* leave that. Go tell Mam Rose that we'll have company for dinner, special
company. We want the Napoleon china and the best of silver. Mind now!"
"Yes'm." Sukie disappeared, leaving some disorder in the room which, Persis suspicioned, was of Lydia's
initial making. Her hostess was rummaging in what looked to be an old sea chest, talking as she hunted:
"You won't get any of the islanders to touch the thing; they all say it's the worst kind of luck. Crewe found it
in this—" she prodded the side of the chest with her toe, "all buried under some rocks—what was left of the old pirate
fort. I begged him for it. Sukie and the rest know I have it. They think I can ill-wish them or some such foolishness, so
they step carefully when I give the orders. It's a handy thing. Ah, here it is!"