nineteen

Sylva had some very good sisters, especially when a crisis hit. They would all need to pull together to help her find Poppy and Lucky. And pull together they did.

Clara and Rosy knew where they’d find Goldie; she’d be over at the schoolhouse, where her best friend, Avery Pastel, lived. They flew straight there. Goldie and Avery were in the middle of a fashion show, but once Goldie heard what was happening, she left at once. “Don’t try on anything without me!” she called to her best friend as she hurried out the door.

“What a ninny that Sylva is,” Goldie said as they flew back toward the Fairy Village, “to say such a thing to sweet Poppy. I’m tempted to give her a good scolding when I see her.”

By the time Clara, Rosy, and Goldie arrived back at home, Sylva was in such a sad and sorry state that Goldie gave her a hug instead. “Poppy can take care of herself,” she told her sister. “And we’ll find Lucky. Don’t you worry.”

“It’s all my fault,” said Sylva.

“Yes, it is,” said Goldie. “But let’s sort that out later.”

“Sylva and Rosy—you scoot around the Fairy Village,” said Clara, “and then around Lacy Meadow, to see if you can find Poppy. Goldie and I will head down to the dock and scour the west side of the island in case she’s there.”

“Squeak!” said Squeak.

“Oh, Squeakie, of course we didn’t forget you,” said Clara. “Rosy will take you in the fairy carrier, won’t you, Rosy?”

“Climb aboard!” said Rosy. Clara lifted Squeakie into the carrier.

“Coomada!” said Squeak.

“Glad you like it,” said Rosy.

“Let’s sing our flying song,” said Clara, “while we’re on the wing. It will speed up our flight!” And as they lifted into the air, they sang:

We’ll go flying ’round the island on the wing.

On the wing!

We’ll go flying ’round the island on the wing.

On the wing!

We’ll go flying ’round the island,

flying ’round the island,

We’ll go flying ’round the island on the wing.

When they hit the last bright note, all five sisters felt better, even Sylva.

“We’ll find them in no time,” said Clara.

And then, thought Sylva, maybe Poppy and I can be friends again.

The search did not go well. No one in the Fairy Village had seen Poppy, although a few fairies recalled seeing a small gray kitten darting between the trees.

“I saw that cat a little earlier this morning,” said Judy Jellicoe as Sylva and Rosy passed her on the boardwalk. “And then Poppy came along afterward. She doesn’t seem to be very good with animals. Why don’t you help her out, Sylva?”

Of course that only made Sylva feel worse.

“Don’t worry,” said Rosy. “They’re going to be fine. I’m sure they’re just around the next tree.” But they were not behind the next tree. And the fog was rolling in.

By midafternoon, Sylva and Rosy and Squeak had looked all over the east side of the island for Poppy and Lucky. They were about to turn around to see if Clara and Goldie had had any luck when they heard a tiny—

Mew!

“Rosy! It’s Lucky!” Sylva cried.

They saw a streak of gray fur heading down to the shoreline.

“Not that way, Lucky!” cried Sylva. “Oh, Rosy, she’s headed to Pirates’ Cove.”

Sylva and Rosy—with Squeak on her back—followed Lucky down to the cove. Sylva wasn’t sure why it made her so nervous to go there. It was something about the ship and the tattered dark sails. Before she could think too much about that, she saw the blur of beating wings out of the corner of her eye.

“Poppy!” she cried. Poppy must have spotted Lucky, too. Sylva saw her alight on a high branch of a spruce tree at the tip of Pirates’ Cove. Sylva was about to call out to her again—but then her voice caught in her throat.

“Don’t say a word,” said Rosy.

Even through the fog, Rosy and Sylva could see the same big, dingy ship that Sylva had spotted on the horizon days before. It was much, much closer now.

But that was not the worst thing.

The worst thing was that two of the sailors from the ship—one tall, one squat—were in a rowboat, splashing noisily toward Sheepskerry. Their boat was laden with pickaxes, shovels . . . and a great big treasure chest.

“Rosy, are those—”

But Sylva didn’t get to finish her question. Because through the fog came a booming voice.

“Aaaargh, me hearties. Here be treasure.”