like pouring naphtha on a going fire. He dashed into the hall and tackled Peter front-on, head to gut, taking him down hard and knocking his wind out. Peter was heavier and stronger, but at that moment his kicks and heavings were like a fly’s flutterings to the younger boy’s fury.
With his teeth, Andrew shredded his nightshirt and tied Peter at the elbows as tight as he could. Peter was screaming a different tune now as Andrew half-rose and sat down on him hard to knock his wind out again. Peter lay still, gasping like a beached fish.
He tied Peter’s legs together at the knees, then his ankles to his hands. The senior page ended up writhing like a trussed pig, gibbering and crying.
Andrew stood over him. The beads lay next to the wall.
By now William was there, along with Mr. Harriot, Pena, and James. Andrew wiped blood from his nose.
Andrew looked at them, then at Peter. “You tell them,” he panted.
He picked up the beads and went back to bed. As he lay down, he figured that was it for him at Durham House. He wasn’t sorry. It was like a boil burst: whatever followed, the relief was worth it. He went to sleep and slept wonderfully.
The next morning Peter and Andrew stood before Mr. Raleigh. Andrew’s head throbbed. Peter could hardly walk.
Mr. Raleigh’s face was like carved stone.
“Show me,” he said.
Andrew pulled the beads from his pocket.
Mr. Raleigh shook his head like one annoyed at something small. “Put them away and go to your work.”
The next day, Peter left for Ireland.
Some weeks later, Mr. Barnes and Mr. Barry received a thundering letter from Viton & Frères accusing them of sponsoring common thieves. As proof, they returned the worn Barnes & Barry leather samples case, the six small bottles safe in their lamb’s-wool compartments.
20
T HE S WIMMING L ESSON
“Today is for the swimming!” Pena announced. “The sailors say to respect the sea you must never learn to swim, because if you do she will take you as one of her own. To that I say,
‘Zut!’
” He spat.
It was a warm afternoon. The tide was flowing. The water moved like a huge brown snake, hissing as it pushed and frothed past Mr. Raleigh’s water gate. It smelled of dead plants, old rope, rot, dead fish. Andrew’s skin crawled at the thought of going in, but Pena was determined.
They took off their clothes. The steps were moss covered and slippery. Pena went into the water ahead of Andrew. It was cold. It grabbed at the boy’s knees as he balanced on the last step.
“Fall toward me now,” Pena ordered. “I will catch you.”
A surge of water knocked Andrew in. He coughed and thrashed as the burly Frenchman made to hold him. He felt himself going down. He couldn’t breathe. The panic of drowning gripped him like a bear crushing its victim.
“Easy! Easy!” the Frenchman yelled. “You are not so heavy in the water! Now you will lie on your back. I will hold you up. Lie still!”
Andrew couldn’t. He was howling and flailing, shivering from cold and fear as Pena half-lifted him and turned him over. The boy’s legs and hands were churning and kicking. He couldn’t help himself.
“No need! No need!” Pena yelled. His hands were under Andrew’s back. “You see, you float,
non
?”
“No!” Andrew screamed. “No! No!”
“Draw your breath and arch your back. Let your hands and feet flutter,” the Frenchman yelled. “Now you float! You do not sink! Look!”
Laughing, Pena held up his hands. Andrew was almost floating as he gagged and spat out mouthfuls of the awful water. He was struggling, choking, screaming. But he got the trick of it.
Pena showed him how he could lie steady in the water by flapping his feet and making half circles with his open hands. With Pena’s help, he made it back to the stairs. He was shaking. His feet slipped. He fell back and went under, swallowing a mouthful.
As Andrew retched and gasped, Pena pushed him onto the worn steps.
“Now fall in on your own and roll
With his teeth, Andrew shredded his nightshirt and tied Peter at the elbows as tight as he could. Peter was screaming a different tune now as Andrew half-rose and sat down on him hard to knock his wind out again. Peter lay still, gasping like a beached fish.
He tied Peter’s legs together at the knees, then his ankles to his hands. The senior page ended up writhing like a trussed pig, gibbering and crying.
Andrew stood over him. The beads lay next to the wall.
By now William was there, along with Mr. Harriot, Pena, and James. Andrew wiped blood from his nose.
Andrew looked at them, then at Peter. “You tell them,” he panted.
He picked up the beads and went back to bed. As he lay down, he figured that was it for him at Durham House. He wasn’t sorry. It was like a boil burst: whatever followed, the relief was worth it. He went to sleep and slept wonderfully.
The next morning Peter and Andrew stood before Mr. Raleigh. Andrew’s head throbbed. Peter could hardly walk.
Mr. Raleigh’s face was like carved stone.
“Show me,” he said.
Andrew pulled the beads from his pocket.
Mr. Raleigh shook his head like one annoyed at something small. “Put them away and go to your work.”
The next day, Peter left for Ireland.
Some weeks later, Mr. Barnes and Mr. Barry received a thundering letter from Viton & Frères accusing them of sponsoring common thieves. As proof, they returned the worn Barnes & Barry leather samples case, the six small bottles safe in their lamb’s-wool compartments.
20
T HE S WIMMING L ESSON
“Today is for the swimming!” Pena announced. “The sailors say to respect the sea you must never learn to swim, because if you do she will take you as one of her own. To that I say,
‘Zut!’
” He spat.
It was a warm afternoon. The tide was flowing. The water moved like a huge brown snake, hissing as it pushed and frothed past Mr. Raleigh’s water gate. It smelled of dead plants, old rope, rot, dead fish. Andrew’s skin crawled at the thought of going in, but Pena was determined.
They took off their clothes. The steps were moss covered and slippery. Pena went into the water ahead of Andrew. It was cold. It grabbed at the boy’s knees as he balanced on the last step.
“Fall toward me now,” Pena ordered. “I will catch you.”
A surge of water knocked Andrew in. He coughed and thrashed as the burly Frenchman made to hold him. He felt himself going down. He couldn’t breathe. The panic of drowning gripped him like a bear crushing its victim.
“Easy! Easy!” the Frenchman yelled. “You are not so heavy in the water! Now you will lie on your back. I will hold you up. Lie still!”
Andrew couldn’t. He was howling and flailing, shivering from cold and fear as Pena half-lifted him and turned him over. The boy’s legs and hands were churning and kicking. He couldn’t help himself.
“No need! No need!” Pena yelled. His hands were under Andrew’s back. “You see, you float,
non
?”
“No!” Andrew screamed. “No! No!”
“Draw your breath and arch your back. Let your hands and feet flutter,” the Frenchman yelled. “Now you float! You do not sink! Look!”
Laughing, Pena held up his hands. Andrew was almost floating as he gagged and spat out mouthfuls of the awful water. He was struggling, choking, screaming. But he got the trick of it.
Pena showed him how he could lie steady in the water by flapping his feet and making half circles with his open hands. With Pena’s help, he made it back to the stairs. He was shaking. His feet slipped. He fell back and went under, swallowing a mouthful.
As Andrew retched and gasped, Pena pushed him onto the worn steps.
“Now fall in on your own and roll
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