Читать книгу Peggy Henderson Adventures 4-Book Bundle - Gina McMurchy-Barber - Страница 11

While I was aboard the Sea Weed I felt fine, but the moment I stepped onto the dock my legs turned to rubber. As we walked up the gangway to meet Chief Charles I was worried they might collapse under me.

“Hello, Dr. Hunter and friends. Welcome,” greeted the chief. As Captain Hunter introduced the team I took a moment to glance around. The village had a dozen small buildings, a longhouse, and some totems — many lying on their sides. For a moment it felt like we’d stepped back in time. I glanced out to where the Sea Weed was docked and wondered how far we were to the sunken Intrepid. I got goose bumps imagining it was two hundred years earlier and I was a Kwakwaka’wakw seeing the Intrepid the day it sailed into the inlet.

“Yes, we’d very much enjoy having a look around,” Captain Hunter answered in response to the chief’s invitation. We followed Chief Charles along a narrow pathway that led to the east side of the island. We stopped in front of what looked like an excavation site.

“You can see by these visible rows of rectangular house depressions that this was once a large and thriving community. Years ago some other archaeologists came to excavate them and found a variety of things in different locations.” We walked a little farther until we came to some grassy mounds with portions of exposed soil. “And here you can see one of the many shell middens — the rich black soil is full of cultural material, like whale bones. This was the place where my ancestors processed their food. The archaeologists studied the toolmarks on the whale bones to learn exactly how they were butchered.” I bent over and fingered a number of dried bone fragments littered throughout the midden. I’d learned about shell middens during the excavation at Crescent Beach, which contained such things as crushed horse and littleneck clam, tiny fish vertebra, deer bone, and sometimes even human remains. No one knows for sure why the Coast Salish buried their dead in the middens — maybe to keep them away from wild animals. As I was thinking, my eye caught sight of a small blue object. I leaned in closer to check it out and suddenly my heart leapt.

“Captain, look!” I pointed until both the chief and the captain glanced down at the little gem at the end of my finger.

“Good eye, young lady … you’ve spotted a trade bead. Over the years we’ve found hundreds — if not thousands — around our village. I’ll show you later.” Chief Charles then led us to a little white house that overlooked the ocean — a view Mom would say was worth millions. As we all crowded into the tiny kitchen, I noticed a little white-haired lady standing at the stove, frying something on an old black skillet. Whatever she was cooking, it filled the room with a smell that was both sweet and oily.

“This is my mother, Passulip. She doesn’t speak English too much. But she made you all some bannock — please sit and try her food.” Once we were seated I took a piece of the warm flat bun and waited to see what the chief was going to do with it. “Come,” he urged. “I’m sure you’ll like it if you dip it in some cinnamon and sugar.” I followed his lead.

“Mmmm, this is delicious,” I mumbled between bites. “Almost like a donut.” When Passulip smiled at me her eyes crinkled with laugh lines and her full brown cheeks caused me to smile too.

“Bannock is our traditional food — just not the cinnamon and sugar,” said the chief. “But the young ones — they like it like this.” While we ate, the woman poured dark tea into cups and added canned milk and honey. By the time we’d finished I was feeling warm and full.

As the adults talked I glanced around the kitchen. There was a stone bowl on the windowsill much like the kinds I’d seen at the museum. And wooden carvings and bone objects sat unceremoniously on top of the fridge, while on the wall hung a carved whale bone. Then something completely different caught my eye.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to a round brass object that looked a bit like a compass. Passulip followed my eye to the object and then spoke to her son in her native language.

“Mother and I agree that you have a sharp eye. That came from the ship that you seek. It was given to our people by one of the European sailors two hundred years ago.”

“May I look closer?” asked Captain Hunter. The chief passed the metal thing to the captain. “Fascinating … this is a very old sextant … the kind of navigational device commonly used by sailors during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.”

“It was given in thanks to the chief who spared the lives of the survivors.”

“Obviously with no ship they had no use for it — so it did make a very good thank-you gift. Does your mother have stories passed down to share about the sailors that visited here so long ago?” asked Captain Hunter.

The chief translated his mother’s words in a slow and soothing voice. “The day the white men arrived was a day to remember,” he said. “As the story goes their great canoe arrived in our cove under three small white clouds.”

“Small white clouds? Do you mean sails?” I asked eagerly. Chief Charles smiled and nodded.

“Yes, young lady. But I prefer using the imagery of the old ones.”

“Oh, right.” My cheeks burned bright and after that I held my tongue as the chief continued telling his story.

“The elders said these men were a sight to behold — they were dirty, much too hairy, and smelled like rotting fish.” A ripple of laughter spread throughout the kitchen. “Among them was two of our kind and they talked in a language the people could understand. They said the white men wanted the furs of the otter. Our people were cautious, but they were also eager to make a trade for they were fully aware of the great treasures these men possessed. The traders made a bargain and did not keep it. This was a great insult to our chief and people. Some of the warriors snuck up on the ship that night to take what they were promised, but a battle broke out and many were wounded. Several of the warriors died and this caused the spirit of the sea to become angry and a great wind began to blow — it was so strong our people could hardly paddle back to the land. In the morning the ship was gone and the people thought the winds had taken it away. But soon things like wooden boxes, rope, and bales of otter fur started to wash up on our shores. Then my people found the camp of the white men and learned that their ship had sunk after striking the hidden rocks out by the point — the ones that stretch towards the sky like fingers from the sea. Over time many have tried to find the sunken ship but failed. Then about twenty years ago, some white people came to search too, but it was never found — that is until the day I called the salvage diver to come and untangle my fishing net and he found the anchor.”

“Oh, you were the fisherman!” I said, surprised. “Do you know what happened to the crewmen who survived the sinking of the Intrepid?”

“Yes, Chief Noomki left the white men to camp not far from the village. The two Indian boys aboard the ship spoke on their behalf and the people took pity on them. The one called Loki stayed in our village long after the white men sailed away with a different ship. He married the chief’s daughter — my great great grandmother.” Chief Charles opened a small cabinet and removed a glass mason jar and gave it to Captain Hunter to look at. “Do you remember — I told you many small things have washed ashore or been found, like these glass beads.”

“Aha,” said Captain Hunter excitedly. I noticed the others sat up too. “These are definitely trade beads from China. They appear to be a type known as Fort Vancouver and were probably for necklaces. They’re a single colour and would have been cut from a glass tube with six sides … when it was new the facets would have sparkled.” He opened the jar and poured some out. “You can tell they’re hand polished because there are slight variations in size and shape.” I picked up a few and rolled the little pearl-like beads around in my hand.

“During the fur trade they would have been strung together and sold by the fathom.”

“A fathom?” I asked.

“Yes, a string nearly two metres long.” After the captain closed up the jar the chief passed him a shoe box. When he lifted off the lid, lying in a bed of cotton were several pieces of broken china. I noticed how each was decorated with blue lines and figures.

“That’s a cobalt blue glaze, right? It was supposedly first used a thousand years ago,” I announced. Wow! That’s cool … I actually remembered some of the boring stuff Aunt Beatrix told me. The captain seemed impressed.

“Good observation, Peggy. Maybe I should pair you with Scott, our pottery and ceramics expert.” I wasn’t sure if I was so keen about the idea of being stuck looking at broken teacups … it sure wasn’t any fun back at home. Nope, bones were my thing.

“Thank you for your hospitality today, Chief Charles. Now if I may, I ask for your permission to explore the traditional waters of the Kwakwaka’wakw to find the sunken Intrepid.”

“You have our permission to search our traditional waters, Dr. Hunter,” Chief Charles replied.

When we left the chief’s house I paused for a moment. It was a magical moment there on the shore, looking out towards the sea. I thought of the people who once stood in the same place looking out to the same ocean, and how the waves that washed up on the shore now had done so two hundred years ago and two thousand years before that.

“Captain, when you find it how will you know that the ship is the Intrepid?” I asked as we boarded the Sea Weed.

“That’s a good question. We know the Intrepid had three sails — something the chief’s story just confirmed.” That’s right, I recalled — three small white clouds. “Some other things we’ll be looking for are a box-like hull and six cannons. Most early trading ships had at least ten guns.”

Captain Hunter steered the Sea Weed away from the shore and towards the coordinates he was given to find the anchor. With a good feeling about what we would find I sat on the deck with Captain Whittaker’s journal. Now that we were at Tlatskwala Island I wanted to catch up to the part in the journal when the Intrepid arrived too.

May 13th, 1812

At last success is upon the Intrepid and her crew. We have traded along the coast of New Caledonia and thus far acquired over eight hundred pelts of the finest grade. My crew — once agitated and dangerously close to mutiny — are content and put in fourteen to sixteen hours’ work a day.

It is a relief to see even Mister Lockhart is now usefully occupied in trading with the local people. There were some near disasters, but it appears he is acquiring the skills of a trader. While he is still aggressive in his approach there are fewer dangerous indiscretions, and he rarely disturbs the congenial interactions of the crew or the friendly nature of the aboriginals.

Intrepid’s box-like hull and narrow stern enable us to maximize our profits by carrying the largest cargo with the smallest crew necessary. But our ship’s hold is nearly full now and should we acquire many more pelts we may have to start storing them on the deck. We are equipped with three masts, which increases the ship’s agility and speed significantly and will thereby shorten our journey across the Pacific Ocean to the Orient. The one serious shortcoming this grand ship has is that we are but lightly armed with only six guns — meaning we are not ideally suited for conflict in the unlikely event that one should arise.

I informed Mister Lockhart that we are near our maximum load and should soon make ready to sail for China. He is eager to make one more trade. The improved conditions aboard this ship have so affected us all that I agreed to his plan — mainly because we must make one final stop at the top of Vancouver’s Island to wood and water for the long voyage ahead.

Our last trade was with the Tsaxis people — a very pleasant tribe. Loki and Peter were able to learn from them that there is a village a day’s journey north. They believe it will make a most profitable final stop. We are now on route.

Captain James Whittaker

“I can’t go with you?” I was crushed but did my best not to whine like Dr. Sanchez expected I would. I looked over at Amanda for support, but she only shrugged. “I thought that visibility is good — perfect diving conditions.”

“That’s right, it is. It’s just that we don’t know what’s down there. Dr. Sanchez thinks we need to ensure the area is safe before taking a child — I mean a young person — down, and I agree.” It figures that Dr. Sanchez was the one who wanted me out of the way. He’d been especially mean ever since the toilet got busted. I think he suspected I had something to do with it.

“Don’t worry, Peggy, you’ll get plenty of opportunity to dive once we know what’s down there,” Amanda said sweetly just before hopping over the side of the boat.

Disappointment washed over me as I watched the last of the crew disappear beneath the waves. A short while later, still in a foul mood, I heard the radio start to crackle and a disjointed voice calling through the static. I snapped up the handset and pressed the talk button.

“Hello?” I shouted to be heard clearly. The voice on the other side was faint and fuzzy so I turned some dials to make it come in clearer.

“Hello, is this Cap … ter?” crackled a man’s voice.

“No,” I shouted back. “This is Peggy Henderson. Captain Hunter is diving right now.”

“Fantast …! Did … find it?”

“Find it? If you mean the Intrepid — with my luck they probably found the ship and a ton of treasure too.” I was still irritated over being left behind and I knew it was coming out in my voice but didn’t care.

“Treasure! Right …!” replied the crackling voice again. “That will make … sound bite for … evening’s broadcast. So, Peggy … you one … researchers or … treasure hunter?”

“Well, ah …” I stammered, taken aback by the question. “Who is this calling, please?”

“Brad Turner, CFTV News — just try … get the scoop on the sunken … everyone is talk … ’bout. Tell me what the value …”

“Hey, wait a minute,” I shouted into the receiver when I finally clued in with horror who I was talking to. “You can’t tell anyone what I just said. I’ll get into trouble. I promised Dr. Hunter I could keep a secret.”

“A secret, eh? Dr. Hunter must have something … big going on at the bottom of the … if you have to keep it such a … You know, the public has a right to know Ms. Hender … What would you say the value is of the treasure on … Intrepid?”

“Wait, I didn’t say there was treasure … I just meant …”

“Ms. Hender … said they probably found treasure.”

“No, I didn’t mean that — I was just being sarcastic.”

“Sounds more like you’re trying to cover … truth … just come clean.” I flicked the switch to silence the voice and the static, then slammed the radio handset down hard. Good job, Peggy. News about the Intrepid could put the excavation at risk, but if people thought there was treasure — it could be a real disaster. I wouldn’t be surprised if Captain Hunter thought it was me who tipped off the media in the first place. Man, I was really going to have to walk the plank or become shark bait now.

As I considered my options I crossed off lying about it. I was already knee deep in guilt for busting the toilet and didn’t think my conscience could handle another cover up. Nope, I definitely had to tell the captain … “come clean,” as Brad Turner had said. But if I could only postpone the news until we got back to town …

I picked up Captain Whittaker’s journal. I needed something to get my mind off the inevitable trouble I was in.

June 2nd, 1812

We have arrived at the place known as Tlatskwala Island. It is about eight leagues in length and four in breadth. While the ship sat a thousand feet from shore I noted some fifty or sixty armed people awaited us. At first we could not tell if they were there to oppose our arrival or to greet us. As we waited for some sign several of their men entered canoes and came out to the ship. Soon we were surrounded by them. I ordered my crew to toss over some trinkets to encourage good will. Even Mister Lockhart did not argue the matter with me.

Peter spoke to them and they seemed to understand that our purpose was to approach their chief with the prospects of a trade. It was a very friendly interview with the inhabitants and we were consequently invited ashore with a sampling of our trade goods.

The chief, who awaited our arrival, was brandishing a spear and wearing a cloth about his loins fabricated by grass. His nature seemed filled with prowess, irreverence even, and I thought to myself, there stands a magnificent man! Chief Noomki calls his tribe the Kwakwaka’wakw and they appear to be a vibrant community. Despite all this, I do not feel an immediate report with them and sense they have no immediate feeling of kindness for us either.

We followed the chief to a large structure and entered. The image carved above the entrance was monstrous and quite intimidating to be sure. I was astonished at the size of the interior — the height about twenty-five feet. There were eight or ten enormous trees carved and painted into the forms of animals and humans, and served as house beams. They in turn were supported by planks of uncommon breadth and length. It is my estimate that some five hundred souls occupy the building. At the end of the long room Chief Noomki sat on a small platform, surrounded by many who appeared to be of significant rank.

We were invited to take part in a meal that consisted of boiled whale meat and fish soup eaten with mussel-shell spoons. After our meal the young men took part in a dance that involved drums, chanting, and remarkable masks — each with unique characteristics and vividly painted.

Tomorrow we will bring ashore more trade items. Loki tells me the chief expressed confidence we will be pleased with his otter pelts but he is looking for something significant in return. I cannot imagine what he hopes to get from us, but I should like to conclude our business with these people as quickly as possible. Mister Lockhart will negotiate the trade while I oversee the preparations for our voyage in two days time.

If matters go as planned the pelts will fetch a price of twenty-five or thirty dollars apiece from the Chinese. That would bring nearly thirty thousand dollars in profit. Our aim is to bring back the most exotic textiles, ivory, brass, and chinaware — of which the ladies are so fond. Indeed, the set given me by the Emperor on my last voyage will make a handsome gift for my wife, Clara. Over the winter I intend to commission the same artisan to make additional pieces for the set.

Though I wish it were sooner, we shall not arrive at Canton until November. Tea shipments will be ready by then, however we will still have to winter there. In the spring we will use the northeasterly monsoon winds of the South China Sea to take us to Sunda Straight and then we shall ride the trade winds to the Indian Ocean and onwards to New York. After that I intend to give up this life at sea and spend my final years with my wife — perhaps I shall finally come to know my sons, Robert and James Junior. I dare say Mister Lockhart will be pleased with my retirement.

Captain James Whittaker

I sat dream-like under the warm sun while the gentle waves rocked me like a baby. For some reason I was thinking about my aunt’s china when I heard the faint sound of splashing water. I hopped over to the side of the boat half expecting to see another pod of porpoises, but instead it was the team back from their dive. I should have been excited, but I only felt dread.

“Yahoo! It’s amazing down there,” Amanda gushed. “You’re going to love it, Peggy.” All the others were equally bubbling with enthusiasm over what they’d seen.

“Was it hard to find the anchor? Did you see the Intrepid?” I fired back.

“The anchor was right where our GPS indicated it would be — a perfectly spectacular example of one used on a seventeenth-century trading ship,” Captain Hunter spouted while bobbing on the waves.

“And what about the Intrepid?”

“Not yet. We needed to set up the anchor as our datum point and start a radial grid with three metre intervals,” said the captain. “Then Scott’s tank ran low on oxygen so we had to surface. But we’ll go down again this afternoon.” I felt relieved they hadn’t yet found the Intrepid.

“We saw a half a dozen artifacts already,” Amanda said after she’d climbed up onto the boat.

“That’s right. And now we’ve got lots to do to prepare for this afternoon. So Amanda and Marnie — you get started on the site map right away. Scott — I’ll get you to prepare the lab and water treatment tank. And Dr. Sanchez — I’ll need you to get on the radio and get the latest weather forecast from the Coast Guard. As we all know — weather around here can change quickly. I’ll prepare the equipment for this afternoon’s dive. Okay people, let’s get to it.”

“Ah, Captain, don’t you have a job for me?” I asked, the disappointment swelling up again.

“Get the kid to make the food,” said Dr. Sanchez. “It a safe place where she does no damage.”

“Damage?” I said sharply. “Obviously you haven’t seen me cook yet.” I stormed off towards the galley cursing the wiry little creep under my breath. A few moments later I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Amanda. She was obviously amused.

“I bet you’ve some ideas of what you’d like to feed Dr. Sanchez.”

“Yah — for starters, fish guts and boiled saltwater soup, followed by stuffed viperfish covered in ocean mucus and seasoned sand flies.”

“Mmmm, sounds delicious. And for dessert?”

“Dessert will be fish eyeballs in Jell-O topped with whipped bilge water and shavings of ex-lax … wait, better leave off the ex-lax … the head is still broken.” Amanda plugged her nose and we both laughed.

“Never mind Sanchez the Scrooge. Marnie’s going to get started on the site map and I’ll help you with lunch — I’m starved.” We worked side by side to prepare the crew a tossed salad, grilled cheese sandwiches, and for dessert — banana bread. I really did wish we had some of that ex-lax on Jell-O for Señor Poop Head!

“Would you like to dive with me this afternoon?” Amanda asked while I set the table. I turned to face her instantly.

“This afternoon — really?” She nodded. “Captain said it was okay?”

“Sure, now that he’s seen the terrain he feels it’s safe for you to go down. Just promise you’ll stick close and if you spot something, leave it in place for mapping.”

Over lunch the conversation was focused on the excellent condition of the anchor, the shredded rope still attached, and some mysterious wooden box about forty feet from it. The captain pulled out some charts that showed details of the depth of the seabed and ocean currents in the area.

“Will you try to bring the anchor up?” I asked.

“Not right now, Peggy. We don’t have the right equipment to handle something so big on this trip. We’ll need to leave it until we can figure out how best to move it.”

Then Dr. Sanchez groaned. “Maybe the little girl should clear dishes so adults can talk business.”

Amanda laughed. “No need, this is an equal opportunity crew,” she said. “Hey Scott, I think it’s your turn to do dishes.”

“You got it. Hey, Marnie, will you give me a hand?” Scott and Marnie got up from the table and started to clear the dishes.

Dr. Sanchez groaned again.

“Captain, why don’t you go ahead and finish what you were telling Peggy.” Amanda winked at me.

“Sure, what I was saying is that the iron anchor has been sitting on the ocean floor for over two hundred years. If we just lift it to the surface and expose it to oxygen it would create a chemical change causing the iron to heat up. This would create intense internal pressure — so much that the anchor would crack into little pieces. ”

“Is that what happens to wood too — does it just disintegrate?”

“Wooden artifacts preserved in perfect conditions may look as good as new until taken out of the water — if allowed to dry they can split and collapse too. Generally, anything we recover from the sea must be given special preservation treatment from the moment it reaches the surface. Marnie, since you’re our resident wood specialist, do you have anything else to add?”

“Well, Peggy, you can imagine that preserving an entire ship made of timber is a real challenge. It too would collapse into dust if it’s not kept moist — so constant spraying is a first measure. Preserved timber can tell some pretty important and interesting things. For instance, by reading the rings on the timber — much the same way as tree ring dating — we can get a general date of when it was harvested — which in turn will tell us how old the ship is and possibly even where it was built.”

“Scott, do you want to share something about glass and ceramics?” Amanda asked.

“I’d be happy to,” Scott said, turning from the sink and wiping his hands on a dish cloth. “Glass and ceramics need to be stabilized and cleaned too. But the real danger is not usually oxygen, as in the case of iron and wood. The bigger problem here is that the glass and ceramics will have become brittle and fragile. Special care needs to be taken during excavation and during the cleaning stage too.”

“If Marnie’s specialty is wood, and Scott’s is pottery and ceramics, then what’s your specialty, Amanda?” I asked.

“My specialty? Human remains of course. And from what Eddy told me, you’re somewhat of an expert yourself.” I smiled, but that quickly turned into a blush when I caught Dr. Sanchez sneering again.

“I wish someone had told me this was going to be a kids’ day camp.” I was happy when everyone ignored his comment.

“From what you’ve said, metals, wood, and ceramic could all be preserved in water given the perfect circumstances, but what about human remains?”

“Good question, Peggy. And the answer is — it all depends. Do you know what sailors used in the old days to preserve their food — meat in particular?”

“I think I read somewhere they used to use salt to keep meat from rotting.”

“Right, it was the most efficient preservative they had aboard ships back then. The downside was the high salt content of the meat often caused sailors to have scurvy and high blood pressure. But getting back to preserving of human remains — salt water combined with an environment void of oxygen and some nice protective silt create the perfect place to preserve just about anything. Problem is — conditions are rarely so ideal. For instance, there are many organisms in the water that feed off organic matter. Dr. Sanchez can tell you more about that — his expertise is worms!” So that explained why the guy was so creepy.

“Worms! Nasty!” I said. Dr. Sanchez rolled his eyes. Captain Hunter grinned.

“It truly is fascinating stuff — go ahead, Hernado — we’d all like to hear about those nasty little creatures you find so interesting.” More eye rolling and sighing.

“Yes, all right. My specialty is marine borers — poopilarly known as the sheep worm,” he said in his heavy accent.

“Poopilar sheep worm?” I laughed. Probably shouldn’t have.

“Not bah bah! I said sheep worm,” he barked impatiently.

“He means ‘ship worm,’” Amanda interpreted. “From your samples do you think ship worm is going to be a problem for us?”

“It’s too early to say. The sheep worm cannot survive in certain types of water — like in brackish water. But let me tell you — if teredo and gribble worms are here then the timber from our Intrepid, she will be full of destructive tunnels — then it’s going to go kaput if we take her from the water. My hope is the currents quickly covered her in silt before any sheep worms got to her. If so, then maybe we’re going to find human remains.”

“Say the preservation conditions are perfect — what’s the chance we’ll find human remains buried with the Intrepid?” I asked. Captain Hunter looked at his watch, his signal that it was time to wrap it up.

“Well, that’s a good question, Peggy. And there’s really no way of knowing until we find our ship. So I say we get going and do just that. Everyone with me?”

“Yes sir,” I said, jumping up from my seat. “Let’s get going ASAP!” The captain smiled. “Glad to hear you’re in, Peggy. But first — Dr. Sanchez, what’s the latest on the weather?”

“It’s good for now, Dr. Hunter. But I want to say a something about the radio … somebody’s been touching all the dials. Was that you, leedle girl?” Zoom — my face turned the colour of tomato soup.

“Oh, yah, that. Ah, I was touching the radio because someone was calling. It was fuzzy so I turned some dials to try and get the reception clearer.”

“You do not touch the radio, it is my job,” said Dr. Sanchez. Then he looked over at Captain Hunter. “Yes, and his job too.” He probably wanted to rag on me some more, but the conversation quickly turned to what needed to be prepared for the afternoon dive. After everyone split off in different directions to do their jobs Captain Hunter asked me about the call.

“You didn’t say if you were able to make contact with the caller, Peggy.” It was one of those split moment decisions — do I tell or not? After getting razzed by Dr. Sanchez I wasn’t up to disappointing Captain Hunter at that moment. Especially not when everyone was in such a good mood and I was going to get my first chance to dive. It’s not like there was anything he could do about it right then anyways.

“You know, the reception on that radio sure is bad,” I said slowly. “It was hard to hear who was calling.”

“Oh, I know, it can be pretty awful sometimes. Well, if it’s something important they’ll try again.” He turned and headed off to the equipment room. Hmmm … that was easy, I thought. And he had even jumped to that conclusion all by himself — now that can’t be my fault. So then why did I hear Aunt Beatrix’s words hounding me like a ghost: Face up to your problems with courage and remain honest and true. If nothing else, remember it’s your moment-by-moment conduct that will determine the success of your life. What a pain having Aunt Beatrix for a conscience!