Authors: Edward Eager
The next morning after breakfast (and after bed-making, dishwashing, and other dull details, but I prefer not to mention them, as who wouldn't?), the four children went down to the shore. Martha didn't want to go, but the others made her.
The turtle was waiting on the beach with wrath in its eye.
"Well?" it said.
"I know," said Martha. "I'm sorry. At least,"
The Treasure she went on, feeling that she ought to be truthful, "I'm sorry for what I did, but I'm glad I met those children. Will we ever see them again?"
"That," said the turtle, "would be telling. And now is not the time. What did I tell you about considering that lake's feelings?"
"You told us to wish wet wishes," said Martha with a hint of rebellion, "and I did."
"Humph!" said the turtle. "A wish out of season's just as bad as a lake out of water. You've heard about disturbing the balance of nature. Well, magic has a balance, too, and when you break the rules, you upset it. I told you once that lake's stronger than I am now. And now you've got it all upset, there's no telling what it might do next!"
"You mean the magic might dry
up?
" said Jane.
"Either that," said the turtle darkly, "or the other extreme."
What the other extreme from drying up might be, no one liked to think. Explode, probably, or come running up the bank and overflow. The four children had heard of flood disasters, and a
magic
flood disaster would probably be even worse. Martha thought of the big snake thing they had seen and trembled.
"You mean it's all over?" said Mark. "We can't wish anymore?"
"I think," said the turtle, "that it would be much safer not to."
"Who cares about safe?" said Jane recklessly. "We've
got
to! We've got to find that treasure. Now we know it's there."
"Why?" said the turtle.
They told it. They told it all about Mr. Smith, and the bookshop, and about business being bad, and all Mr. Smith had done for them, and how much they wanted to help him in return.
The turtle (so far as could be seen, what with the shell) relaxed a little, as it heard their story. "Hmmmm," it said, when they had finished. "Good intentions again. Sometimes I think they're worse than the other kind. Still," it added thoughtfully, "you never can tell with magic. It might take that into consideration if I went and explained to it. It might think the end justified the means. Though
that,
" the turtle went on, with a severe look at them all, "is a highly dangerous doctrine and one I shouldn't think of recommending to you mere mortals. Why, you could justify
anything
that way!"
"I
know
!" said Katharine wisely. "Wars and conquest!"
"Exactly!" said the turtle. "Look at Napoleon! But that's another story." It broke off and studied them with its cold, hooded gaze. "I wonder," it said, "exactly how much you want to help this friend of yours. Would you do it if it meant your last wish?"
"Our last wish on the lake," said Mark, "or our last wish ever?"
"It might even come to that," said the turtle.
All eyes met, and all hearts sank for a moment. But all spirits were steadfast.
"Yes," said Mark. The three others nodded.
"Then I'll see what I can do," said the turtle. "I'll go speak to that magic. I'll put it up to it man to man, as you might say."
"What do we do in the meantime?" said Jane.
The turtle looked at her. "I haven't the least idea," it said coldly. "What do you
usually
do?" And it turned to go.
"Wait!" said Mark. "At least tell us when to expect it! If it happens at all, I mean. Because if we aren't prepared, we might make a mistake again, and it would be awful to waste our one chance!"
The turtle's gaze softened. "The only way I know to straighten out a mess like this," it said, "is to go back to the beginning and start over."
"With the same old rules?" said Katharine.
"Every third day?" said Martha.
The turtle eyed her. "
I
always thought that a very sensible arrangement myself," it said. "It was good enough for me and my father before me. Not to mention sundry enchanters of eld."
"Then it'll happen day after tomorrow," said Jane.
"Don't count on it," said the turtle. And it walked into the water and swam away.
The rest of that day and all the next one passed uneventfully. A few good things happened, like driving in to Angola to see chapter seven of Ruth Roland in
Ruth of the Rockies,
and the time Mark saw a bird that wasn't in his small bird book, and Mr. Smith brought a big important one home from the bookshop and Mark looked it up and it turned out to be a blue-gray gnatcatcher, which is very rare, at least at an Indiana lake. This wasn't very interesting to anyone but Mark, but then there is nothing so boring as bird-watching, except to those people to whom it isn't boring at all.
And otherwise little happened that was worth recording, and little was said that needs repetition. The third day dawned neither very good nor very bad. It wasn't the kind of sunny singing morning when miracles seem made to happen, but it wasn't the kind of dun-gray day that discourages all hope, either. Clouds ringed the sky, but there were bright intervals.
The four children assembled on the beach rather late, wanting to give the magic every opportunity and not rush it. No one breathed a word of the question that was in all hearts. No one had to ask what the wish was going to be. No one but Mark even spoke. He marched straight to the water's edge, and Jane took one of his hands and Katharine took the other, and Martha joined on at one end.
"I wish," said Mark, "that we would find the buried treasure."
Immediately everyone gasped for breath, and a great wind seemed to blow away the world, as it so often does when you wish to be taken somewhere by magic and it happens.
"It worked!" said Martha, when the wind stopped and she could catch her breath.
"You didn't say
what
buried treasure!" said Jane to Mark. "You didn't wish we could
keep
it, either!"
"What does that matter?" said Katharine. "We're here."
"Yes, but where?" said Mark, looking around. "This isn't our island."
And it wasn't. Instead of the well-known sand and sparse palm trees, lush vegetation met the four children's gaze. The trees hung with ripe fruits, rare flowers laid their scent upon the breeze, and pure, clear streams coursed everywhere. A sky of a peculiarly bright blue canopied the scene. Beyond some rocks, a sea of a deeper blue lay dreamily becalmed. It was an island all right, but it wasn't theirs.
"I knew it!" said Jane, glaring at Martha. "The magic couldn't do it. It tried, but it wasn't up to it. It's been through too much. And it's all your fault."
"I know," said Martha, hanging her head.
"Wait," said Mark. "It may not be so bad. There may be buried treasure here, too. There must be, or it wouldn't have brought us here."
"Unless it's getting even!" said Jane.
Everyone felt a clutch of fear at these dark words—everyone but Katharine, who didn't hear them. She had wandered away and was busily exploring.
"Anyway, it's a wet wish," said Mark, pointing at the sea around them. "That's a good sign. You'd think."
Katharine came running back. "I've been here before!" she said. "At least it feels as if. It's all sort of familiar. Like a book I read or something!"
"Maybe it's
Treasure
Island," said Mark. "Maybe we'll see Jim Hawkins!"
"And Long John Silver, and match wits with him!" said Jane, who had always wanted to try.
"No," said Katharine. "It's not
that
exactly. But it's on that order." She broke off, and looked around again. "I know," she said. "It's like a
picture
in a book. The way those rocks are, and that blue sky. It's like a picture by the man that did the one in my room. The amfalula tree picture!"
"Maxfield Parrish," said Mark, who always knew the facts.
"I guess so," said Katharine. "What book of his do we have? Something kind of oriental."
Light dawned on Jane. "
The Arabian Nights
!" she cried. "We're in Arabian Night country!"
And all the others agreed, as they studied the landscape, that an Arabian Night was exactly what it looked like, except that right now it was daytime.
"What island is there in that?" said Katharine.
"Don't you remember?" said Mark. "Sinbad the Sailor! And the roc's egg!"
Everyone took another look around. Sure enough, there, poised on a cliff not far away, was an enormous round white object.
"Well? What do we do now?" said Martha.
"Wait for the roc to come down, of course," said Jane, "and then fly away with it. If Sinbad could do it, we can!"
Even as she spoke, an immense cloud darkened the sun.
"Here it comes now!" Jane went on. "Hurry up!
We tie ourselves to its claws and then it carries us away!
"There's no treasure in that story," objected Katharine, hurrying along with Jane and the others just the same.
"There is, too. There's the ground all covered with diamonds and serpents," said Jane.
"Ugh!" said Martha, stopping in her tracks and refusing to go another inch.
"Don't worry, it won't be that," Mark told her. "That's not
buried
treasure, and we asked for
buried.
The magic couldn't get it
that
wrong."
"I don't care!" said Jane. "We're supposed to catch on, just the same. I
know
we are. Otherwise it wouldn't be here. It all works out. Maybe it'll take us somewhere else. Maybe it'll take us to our own island!"
Martha let herself be persuaded, and the four children arrived at the roc's egg just as the giant bird alighted over the egg and, crouching down, spread its wings and brooded over it, and composed itself to sleep.
Mark started walking round the roc, observing it from all sides and making mental notes for his bird-watching book, but Jane was impatient.
"Don't waste time!" she said. "It may be leaving any minute!"
So Mark tied himself to one fabulous claw, like Sinbad before him, only Mark used the belt of his blue jeans. The three girls bound themselves on with their hair ribbons, all except Martha, who had lost hers. She used Jane's long white socks instead.
Then, ready for anything, the four children waited for the roc to wake up and fly away. Nothing happened.
"If there's one thing I haven't any use for," said Jane, after what felt like two hours at
least
had passed, "it's a bird. You and your blue-gray gnatcatchers!" And she directed a withering look at Mark.
But at long last the roc awoke and, with a loud cry, rose from the egg. The children rose with it. Martha gave a loud cry, too.
But after the first few sickening moments, the sensation was lovely, and the four children studied the scene below with interest. At first there was just heaving sea, but then a rocky coast appeared.
"Island ahoy!" said Mark.
But it wasn't an island. It was a vast continent that went on and on as the roc flew inland, over field and forest.
"Where's it taking us?" said Martha.
"Somewhere in some other Arabian Night, I suppose," said Jane. And a city full of mosques and minarets appeared below, just to prove it.
"I'll sing thee songs of Araby," breathed Katharine romantically, looking down, "and tales of far Cashmere."
"Don't," said Martha. "Not at a time like this. I couldn't stand it." Even as she spoke, the city below gave way to another forest.
A sudden thought struck Mark. "I know!" he said. "Of course! Where in
The Arabian Nights
is there buried treasure? Well,
sort
of buried," he corrected himself. "Underground, anyway."
Before the others could guess, the roc slackened pace and began circling lower and lower.
"Does it know it's got passengers?" said Martha. "Will it stop and let us off?"
"I'm not sure," said Mark. "Better get ready for an emergency landing."
He started loosening the belt that held him to the great claws, and the girls went to work on their hair ribbons (and socks).
For only an instant the roc hovered low over a clearing in the forest. The four children had barely time to get free and jump before it sailed away again. They landed lightly on soft leaf-mold.
"Thanks a lot," called Martha after their departing guide. The roc did not reply.
"Where are we?" said Katharine, picking herself up.
"Don't you know?" said Mark, on his feet now and pointing.
Everybody looked.
Before them was a huge rock, so steep and craggy that it was almost a mountain.
Mark didn't hesitate. He walked straight up to the rock, opened his mouth, and just before he spoke light dawned, and everybody else knew what two words he would say.
The two words were, "Open, Sesame!"
Immediately the expected happened. A door in the rock opened. Beyond it yawned a vast cavern.
"It's the cave Ali Baba found. It's the cave of the Forty Thieves. It's
that
buried treasure!" said Mark, as though anybody needed telling now. "Come on!" He hurried forward, and everybody else followed. Martha hung back, but the others pushed her. As soon as they were inside, the door shut, of itself. Martha wished it wouldn't. But she looked round at what the cave contained and oh'ed and ah'ed with the others, just the same.
There were all sorts of provisions, rich bales of silk stuff, brocade, and valuable carpeting, piled upon one another, gold and silver pieces in great heaps, and ancient Arabian coins in bags.
"What'll we take?" said Jane.
"Ought we?" said Katharine.
"Of course. Ali Baba did, didn't he? It's all right to rob robbers!"
"Money!" suggested Martha simply.
"Better not," said Mark. "You never can tell with currency. It might be debased by the time we get it back home."
"What's that?" said Martha.
"Not good anymore," said Jane. "Better concentrate on jewels and precious metals. They
always
come in handy."