chapter 11

An Unexpected Visitor

After a few days it became apparent that Char’s parents were not going to appear. Char and the rest of his clan seemed perfectly capable of surviving on their own.

Twig called a meeting. “What do you think about figuring out a way to explore around the island? Maybe there are similar, neighboring islands nearby?”

“And maybe Char’s parents live there,” Lily suggested.

“Exactly.”

“Who says we want to find Char’s parents anymore?” Basil asked. “He seems okay to me. Maybe there aren’t any parents. But I can tell you one thing: he is doing perfectly fine . . . and we should head home.”

“Well, maybe it is time,” Twig said solemnly. “We’ve done our duty, Char is safe and with his brothers and sisters. Now I guess it’s time for us to head home.” He paused, looking anxious. “Any ideas of how we go about that?”

“You brought us here. Didn’t you think about how we’d get out of this mess?” Basil blurted out.

“Basil, nobody knew the Captive was going to sink,” Lily interjected. “Be reasonable, for once.”

Twig said, “Well, a boat got us here; a boat will have to get us back.”

Lily frowned. “There are certainly no ships in bottles around here. We were so lucky before, finding the Captive. That will never happen again!”

Twig nodded. “No, this time we’ll have to make something. I suggest finding a big enough log or limb, something that floats.”

Basil chuckled. “You’re both loony. Make a boat out of some sort of stick?”

“We can do it, I know we can,” Twig said. “Let’s go down to the beach and start there. Look for something that might work. At least get ideas.”

“You two go ahead,” Basil said. “Find something, let me know. Sounds like a waste of time to me.”

“Why don’t you at least try to find some good vines for weaving into ropes, Basil?” Lily suggested.

“Yeah . . . okay,” he replied, sauntering into the underbrush.

Twig and Lily headed down to the shoreline, scouting for an easier passage through the dunes. They scanned the area for anything that could be used for boatbuilding. They poked around at a few possibilities, but the wooden pieces that they found were crooked, or rotting, or waterlogged, or too big or too small.

Lily squinted into the distance and then pointed down the beach. “See that, Twig? Way off? That log might be perfect!”

The log was fairly straight. It had been washed ashore at some point and lay just out of reach of high tide.

“I’m thinking,” Twig said. “With Char’s flame, and the other dragons, too, we could burn the log, a little bit at a time, and chip it out. Dig out the inside, making a perfect boat.”

“Great idea, Twig,” said Lily. “And this branch? Maybe it could hold a sail?”

Twig’s whiskers twitched. “We’re as good as home! Let’s go get Char and the rest and get to work.”

They returned later to the beach, this time with the little troupe of dragons in tow. After scouting around, they found some sharp-edged shells that could be used as scoops and digging tools.

With the baby dragons working together they burned and charred the dead wood of the log bit by bit, inch by inch, and then picked and tore at the burned wood as they went.

“Hey . . . where do you think Basil could be?” Lily wondered aloud, as they toiled at the smoldering wood. “He should be here helping.”

“Who knows. He’ll probably show up right as we finish this. What do you think we could use as a sail, Lily?” Twig asked.

“I saw some large leaves before,” she replied. “I can’t think of anything else on the island that would work.”

“Me either. Maybe we could sew leaves together into a sail. Or maybe we could paddle.”

“Wow . . . that’d be tough going.”

“I know, but . . .” Twig looked out across the water at something that had caught his eye. “Look, Lily. Out there beyond the crashing waves.”

A dark object was bobbing up and down over the swells, too far out to distinguish, but close enough to know it wasn’t floating driftwood, or a turtle.

“Oh my gosh, Twig,” Lily gushed. “You don’t suppose it’s . . . another boat?”

“That’d solve everything! A boat comes to us!” They gazed off over the water, ears cocked forward and whiskers twitching.

“Either we have a new boat, or we ask if we can hitch a ride!”

The object floated nearer, rising on top of a swell, but then disappearing as it rode down into a trough, appearing and disappearing over and over as it dipped up and down.

Twig climbed up the crooked branch of the fallen log to see better.

“It’s a boat, all right,” he called down. “I can see there’s someone in it. Apparently the boat has a captain!”

“Does he look friendly?” Lily hollered up. Her ears rippled in the ocean breeze.

Twig had read about pirates in several of his old picture books, and he squinted to see better. “Can’t tell yet!”

Still the boat washed closer to the beach, riding the frothy surf up onto the beach. Twig scampered down the log and joined Lily on the sand. They ran to the water’s edge.

The figure in the boat was hunched over. But there was something familiar about his shape and the color of his fur. And as he turned and sat up, Twig could see the distinct shape of a pointy snout.

Twig stared, then rubbed his eyes and blinked. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Professor Burdock!”

“Surprised?” Burdock said as he stepped from his boat, a reconfigured wooden guitar. He dragged it by a tuning peg across the wet sand.

“H-hello, Professor!” Lily shouted above the surf. She stared in disbelief.

“Lily,” he replied, coldly returning her stare. He then turned his gaze to Twig. “And dear Twig. A pleasure, at long last.” His bared his teeth in a sarcastic smile. “Didn’t expect to see me riding over the waves to your little desert island, did you?”

“N-no, Professor,” Twig stuttered. “How did y . . . ?” He stopped, suddenly aware of the smell of smoke. He turned his head toward the dunes to see a trail of curling smoke that rose above the beach grasses.

There was a shout from up on top of the dunes as Basil appeared, waving and grinning.

“Uncle Burdock! Hello! Am I glad to see you!” He scurried down the sandy slope of the dune and ran across the beach.

“You saw my signal smoke? You knew it was me?”

“Yes, Basil!” Burdock answered. “Saw your clever smoke and knew exactly who was signaling me. Very smart boy!”

“I used embers from our campfire and dried seaweed to start the fire, then added damp things to make the smoke.” He gestured at Twig, laughing. “He had no idea! They never saw the smoke!”

Twig was amazed, but angry. He had always thought Basil had been napping, or lazing off, when actually he had been starting signal fires! He gritted his teeth, his whiskers twitching.

“Like I said, very clever boy,” Burdock said. “I saw your smoke miles away.” He stretched his long neck and shook his tail. “It’s been a long trip!”

“You mean, you followed us here?” Twig asked, eyes wide. “You knew where we were this whole time?”

“I have been following you, yes. Nearly paddled my arms off, I’ll admit that. When I got to the open sea, I wasn’t sure which direction you had gone. Leave it to my ingenious nephew to direct me.”

Basil grinned. “Thank you, Uncle Burdock.”

Twig looked at Basil incredulously. “You mean you were in on this the whole time?”

Basil snorted. “Of course.”

Burdock chuckled, too. “All part of our plan.”

“How did you get past the giant beaver dam?” Lily asked, still incredulous.

“I threatened those idiotic beavers. What ninnies. Several of them carried my boat over the dam. No problem.”

“And the storm? Did you get into a storm on the ocean?” asked Twig.

“Oh, yes. That irritating storm popped up. But see?” Burdock pointed to a well-constructed lid that covered up the sound hole of the guitar. “Designed it myself. And I huddled inside until the storm was over. Warm and snug . . . safe and dry . . . easy as that! Rode out the storm, no problem.”

Twig and Lily were astonished. They had wondered how everyone was at home, and here was someone from home, but their least favorite someone!

And Basil had known all along that they were being followed!

Twig’s whiskers twitched. There was just one unanswered question that he needed to ask.

Why was Burdock here?