The Ghost Ship Mystery by Gertrude Chandler Warner Page B

back to his afternoon nap by the fireplace.
    “Blackie spent the last couple of hours with Mr. Pease down at the docks,” Mrs. Pease explained. “Everybody with a boat is bringing it in or anchoring it extra tight. The poor dog is tired from all the excitement.”
    “We’re not!” Benny said. “We’re having fun!”
    “That’s good,” said Mrs. Pease. “I’m getting all my evening cooking underway now, in case the electricity goes out later. Why don’t you children relax and curl up by the fire like Blackie?”
    Now curling up by a fire wasn’t Benny Alden’s idea of excitement. Instead he followed Mrs. Pease into the kitchen.
    “May I help make something?” Benny asked. “Mrs. McGregor, our housekeeper, likes us to help her cook.”
    “I certainly like a good helper myself,” Mrs. Pease said. She handed Benny a long wooden spoon. “You can stir this cornmeal batter until you don’t see any dry spots.”
    Benny boosted himself up on a stool and stood over a big bowl of yellow batter. He stirred and stirred. “What is this anyway?” he asked Mrs. Pease.
    “Cornmeal batter for Bennycakes!” she answered with a laugh. “At breakfast we have them with sausages and maple syrup. At tea-time, we eat them with jam or good, sweet butter. The Black Dog Inn is famous for them.”
    When the other children came into the kitchen to check on Benny they found him watching Mrs. Pease drop spoonfuls of the yellow batter onto a sizzling griddle on the big black stove.
    “Violet and I can flip them,” Jessie said. “Henry and Grandfather are outside tying down the lawn and porch furniture.”
    Soon, the three Aldens had a golden pile of warm cakes stacked and ready to take out to the sitting room. The guests had just gathered around the tea table when a huge gust of wind rattled the windows and shutters. The lights dimmed a few times, went back on, then went dark for good.
    Everyone gasped, but the firelight and the Aldens’ flashlights made everyone feel safe. Mrs. Pease brought in some battery-powered lights so their guests could go on reading and playing games.
    Mrs. Pease opened a big wooden chest. “Here are some nice thick blankets if anyone feels chilly,” she said. “We’ll be losing heat soon, so anyone who wants to sleep down here should feel free. Henry Alden has volunteered to keep the fires roaring until we get power back.”
    “Let’s get our sleeping bags,” Jessie whispered to Violet. “We can snuggle by the fire with Blackie. Then it won’t matter a bit that the heat is off.”
    A few minutes later the girls had laid out all the sleeping bags in the sitting room.
    Benny was the first one to get inside his. “It’s time for stories,” he announced.
    “Here! Here!” several guests who were also in the sitting room agreed.
    An older man held up a green book. “How about a story from this collection of sea tales? I just started to read a ghost story called ‘Watery Grave: The Wreck of the Flying Cloud. ’ It’s about a ship that went down right near Ragged Cove.”
    “Oooh,” Violet and Benny said. They pulled their sleeping bags up to their chins.
    The man with the book turned to Jessie. “My old eyes aren’t the best in this dim light. Now young lady, I’ve noticed you have a nice clear voice and sharp eyes. How about reading us the tale?”
    Benny looked up at Jessie with hopeful eyes. “Would you, Jessie? Please? Read us something scary.”
    Jessie opened the faded old book and began to read.

CHAPTER 2
A Fire at Sea
    Jessie had been reading for fifteen minutes. Her throat was dry, but she couldn’t stop. There were only a few pages left:
    “In November 1869, there was still no sign of the Flying Cloud. Every day for two years, Emily Coffin climbed the stairs of her house overlooking the sea. Each day she looked for her husband’s ship. Nothing appeared.
    “Still, Emily Coffin kept her watch. On the sixth of November 1869, a great gale roared in from the northeast. It