The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 8

The sun hadn't yet risen above the rushing, gray waves. Through the dirty windowpane in Timothy's bedroom, he could see that the sky was dark and gloomy. But he knew it had to be morning. There was a chorus of birds singing out in the garden, and his pocket watch said that it was four o'clock.

Four o'clock; that seems an awful long time afore six, the little boy thought. But his mind was wide awake. And with so many busy thoughts running through his head, he couldn't lie there a minute longer. What could he do so early in the day before anyone else was stirring? A smile grew over his face as he started planning.

I've watched Mary start the fires over an' over, he thought to himself. An' I've seen Izzy, the chamber maid, a-polishin an' dustin' fings afore the guests get up in the mornin'! I could do those fings. I'm sure I could! An' I could do 'em quick, too!

He sprang out of bed in an instant and threw on his clothes. Then he tiptoed down the attic stairs. It wasn't a pretty scene which met his eyes when he crept down from his room in the mornings. He and the other servants stayed in a far-off wing of the house, completely separated from the extravagant rooms where the guests stayed. The servants' wing was dark and unadorned with very few windows and only a few candles which flickered in alcoves. Right now, the passage seemed eerie and cold because those candles hadn't been lit yet.

Timothy felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He didn't like the dark. It reminded him of spiders and damp caves where vile creatures lurked. Worst of all, it reminded him of the tales which the sailors had told him about men who had sank to the bottom of the ocean where no light ever shines.

His fear only lasted a moment. Then he gathered his courage and reached for the shield of faith which always guarded him from terror and darkness. He reminded himself that Jesus was always with him. And if his mighty God was protecting him, he knew there was nothing to fear.

Not one sound betrayed Timothy's presence as he moved on. He ran straight to the empty kitchen and got to work as fast as he could. He built the fire in the range, put some water on to boil, and found everything he needed to polish furniture in the upper rooms. He had everything finished by five o'clock, and still he was a whole hour too early to start his regular tasks.

For just a second, he wondered what he would do with his time. Then, the distant sound of the waves and the seagulls reached his ears, calling him to come and play. So he hurried out the back door and ran through the garden gate.

There was hardly any space at all between the mansion and the sea. Tim was on the beach in a minute, throwing off his cap, his new, little shoes and his tidy jacket and waistcoat. Without a pause, he plunged himself into the salty ocean.

The cold water lapped over him, and for a second, he was completely immersed. A flashing thought reminded him of Jesus' disciple, Peter, when the zealous, young fisherman had been sinking in the stormy sea. Fear had dampened the man's burst of faith, dragging him down beneath the chaotic waves. But Jesus hadn't left the doubting man to drown. He had caught Peter's hand and had pulled him out, leading him safely across the water to the boat.

Timothy wasn't buried beneath the sea for long. In a moment, the waves carried him back and laid him safely on the soft, wet sand. But as he left the whelming sea to play on the dry beach, Hannover woke up with a dozen worrisome thoughts in his mind, and he felt just like a man who had been thrown overboard. He was floundering in an ocean of dilemmas, and he had none of Timothy's faith to place him on firm land. Instead, life's waves seemed to be dragging him further and deeper into trouble.

If I just had a few hundred pounds extra, he woke up planning, I could build the best hotel right in the heart of London. And oh! What a lot of money that would make me! I might become a millionaire! But, bah! Hundreds of pounds! You might as well ask for the moon! And I've never seen the stocks so low! He sat up in bed and tapped a thoughtful finger against his flat lips. If I could only find that treasure, he dreamed.