by Enid Blyton
‘Oh, Uncle – you know we never disturb you,’ said Dinah indignantly.
Uncle Jocelyn was bending over a big and very old map. Jack glanced at it.
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘that’s a map of part of this coast – and that’s the Isle of Gloom, isn’t it, sir?’
He pointed to the outline of the island, drawn carefully on the big map. Uncle Jocelyn nodded.
‘Have you ever been there?’ asked Jack eagerly. ‘We saw it this afternoon, sir.’
‘Never been there, and don’t want to go either,’ said Uncle Jocelyn surlily.
‘I saw a Great Auk there this afternoon,’ said Jack proudly.
This did not impress Uncle Jocelyn at all. ‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘Bird’s been extinct for ages. You saw a razorbill. Don’t be foolish, boy.’
Jack was annoyed. Only Lucy-Ann paid any attention to his great discovery, and she, he knew, would have believed him if he had said he had seen Santa Claus on the island. He stared sulkily at the untidy, frowning old man.
Uncle Jocelyn stared back. ‘Could I see the map, please?’ asked Jack suddenly, thinking that he might possibly see marked on it the entrance between the rocks.
‘Why? Are you interested in that sort of thing?’ asked Uncle Jocelyn, surprised.
‘I’m very interested in the Isle of Gloom,’ said Jack. ‘Please – may I see the map, sir?’
‘I’ve got a bigger one somewhere – showing only the island, in great detail,’ said Uncle Jocelyn, quite pleased now to think that anyone should be interested in his maps. ‘Let me see – where is it?’
Whilst he went to look for it, Jack and Dinah had a good look at the big map of the coast. There, lying off it, ringed by rocks, was the Isle of Gloom. It had a queer shape, rather like an egg with a bulge in the middle of one side, and its coast was very much indented. It lay almost due west of Craggy-Tops.
Jack pored over the map, feeling terribly excited. If only Uncle Jocelyn would lend it to him!
‘Look,’ he said to Dinah, in a low voice. ‘Look. The ring of rocks is broken just there. See? I bet it’s where I imagined the entrance was this afternoon. See that hill shown in the map? The entrance to the rocks is just about opposite. If ever we wanted to go there – and goodness knows I do – we need only look for that hill – it’s the highest on the island, I should think – and then watch for the entrance to the rocks just opposite to the hill. Easy!’
‘It looks easy on the map, but I bet it’s a jolly sight more difficult when you get out on the sea,’ said Dinah. ‘You sound as if you mean to go there, Jack – but you know what we promised Bill Smugs. We can’t break our promise.’
‘I know that, idiot,’ said Jack, who had never broken a promise in his life. ‘I’ve got another plan. I’ll tell you later.’
Much to the children’s disappointment, Uncle Jocelyn could not find the large map of the island. He would not lend the other to Jack.
‘Certainly not,’ he said, looking quite shocked. ‘It’s a very, very old map – hundreds of years old. I wouldn’t dream of handing it out to you. You’d damage it, or lose it or something. I know what children are.’
‘You don’t, Uncle,’ said Dinah. ‘You don’t know what we are like a bit. Why, we hardly ever see you. Do lend us the map.’
But nothing would persuade the old man to part with his precious map. So, taking one last glance at the drawing of the island, with its curious ring of protecting rocks, and the one break in them, Jack and Dinah left the untidy, book-lined study.
‘Don’t forget your supper, Uncle,’ called back Dinah as she shut the door. Uncle Jocelyn gave a grunt. He was already lost in his work again. The supper-tray stood unheeded beside him.
‘I bet he’ll forget all about it,’ said Dinah. And she was right. When Aunt Polly went into the study the next day to tidy it as usual, there was the supper-tray standing on the table, complete with plate of meat and vegetables, and piece of pie and custard.
‘You’re worse than a child,’ scolded Aunt Polly. ‘Yes, you really are, Jocelyn.’
15
A peculiar happening – and a fine trip
That night Jack told the others his plan, and they were at first doubtful, and then thrilled and excited.
‘Could we really find the entrance?’ said Lucy-Ann, scared.
‘Easily,’ said Jack, who, once he had made up his mind about anything, would not recognise any difficulties at all. ‘I saw the entrance this afternoon, I’m sure, and I certainly saw it on the map. So did Dinah.’
‘So did Dinah, so did Dinah, so did Dinah,’ chanted Kiki. Nobody took any notice of her. They all went on talking excitedly.
‘You see, once I feel absolutely at home in handling Bill’s boat, I shan’t be a bit afraid of taking Joe’s,’ said Jack.
‘He’ll half kill you if he finds out,’ said Philip. ‘How are you going to manage it without his knowing?’
‘I shall wait till he takes the old car and goes shopping,’ said Jack at once. ‘I’d thought of that. As soon as he goes off in the car, I shall take out the boat, and hope to come back before he returns. If I don’t – well, it just can’t be helped. You’ll have to distract his attention somehow – or lock him up in the cellar – or something.’
The others giggled. The idea of locking Joe up amused them.
‘But look here,’ said Philip, ‘aren’t we coming with you? You can’t go alone.’
‘I’m not taking the girls,’ said Jack firmly. ‘I don’t mind any risk myself – but I won’t risk everyone. I’d better take you, Philip.’
‘I don’t want you to take risks,’ said poor Lucy-Ann, with tears in her eyes.
‘Don’t be such a baby,’ said Jack. ‘Why can’t you be like Dinah, and not worry about me when I want to do something? Dinah doesn’t bother about Philip taking risks, do you, Dinah?’
‘No,’ said Dinah, well aware that Philip could take very good care of himself. All the same – I wish we could come.’
Lucy-Ann blinked back her tears. She didn’t want to spoil things for Jack – but really, it was awful to think he might be wrecked or drowned. She wished with all her heart that Great Auks had never existed. If they hadn’t existed they couldn’t be extinct, and if they hadn’t been extinct there wouldn’t be all this excitement about finding one again.
Jack did not sleep much that night. He lay and thought about the island and its birds, and could hardly wait to sail off and see whether it really was a Great Auk or not he had spotted through his glasses that afternoon. He might get a lot of money if he caught the Great Auk. It couldn’t fly, it could only swim. It might be so tame that it would let itself be caught. There might be three or four Great Auks. It would be simply wonderful to find out.
Jack got up and went to the window. He looked out to the west where the island lay. There was no moon that night, and he could see nothing at first. But, as he gazed earnestly to the west, thinking hard of the island, he was astonished to see something distinctly unusual.
He blinked his eyes and looked again. It seemed as if a light was shining out there, over to the west where the island was. It went out slowly as he watched, and then came again. ‘It can’t be a real light,’ said Jack. Anyway, it can’t be a light on the island. It must be some ship a good way out, signalling.’
The light to the west faded again, and did not reappear. Jack pulled his head back, meaning to go to bed again, feeling sure that it must have been a ship’s light he had seen.
But, before he could go back to his bed, something else attracted him. The narrow window on the opposite side, the one looking over the top of the cliff, was outlined in a soft light. Jack stared in amazement.
He ran to the window and looked out. The light came from the top of the rocky cliff. Someone had either built a fire there or had a bright lantern. Who could it be? And why show a light at night? Was it to signal to the ship out at sea?
Jack’s room was the highest in Craggy-Tops, and the tower in which it was bu
ilt jutted above the cliff-top. But though he craned his neck to look out as far as he could, he could not see what the light was on the top of the cliff, nor exactly where. He decided to find out.
He did not wake Philip. He put on shorts and coat and shoes and ran silently down the stairs. He was soon climbing the path to the top of the cliff. But when he got there, there was no light to be seen at all – no smell, even, of a fire. It was very puzzling.
The boy stumbled along the cliff – and suddenly he got the fright of his life. Someone clutched at him and held him fast.
‘What you doing up here?’ said Joe’s voice, and he shook the boy till he had no breath left in his body. ‘Go on – you tell me what you doing up here.’
Too frightened to think of anything but the truth, Jack blurted it out.
‘I saw a light from the tower-room – and I came to see what it was.’
‘I told you there was “things” on the cliff at night, didn’t I?’ said Joe, in a frightening voice. ‘Well, those things show lights, and they wail and yell sometimes, and lord knows what else they do. Didn’t I tell you not to wander out at night?’
‘What are you out for?’ asked Jack, beginning to recover from his fright.
Joe shook him again, glad to have got one of the children in his power. ‘I come out to see what the light was too,’ he growled. ‘See? That’s what I was out for, of course. But it’s always those “things” making a disturbance and a trouble. Now, you promise me you’ll never leave your bedroom no more at nights.’
‘I shan’t promise you anything,’ said Jack, beginning to struggle. ‘Let me go, you beast. You’re hurting me.’
‘I’ll hurt you a mighty lot more, less you tell me you won’t go out at nights,’ threatened the man. ‘I got a rope-end here, see? I been keeping it for you and Philip.’
Jack was afraid. Joe was immensely strong, spiteful and cruel. He struggled hard again, feeling Joe untying the rope he had around his waist.
It was Kiki that saved him. The parrot, missing Jack suddenly from the tower-room, where she had been sleeping peacefully on the perch that the boy had rigged up for her, had come in search of her master. She would not be separated from him for long, if she could help it.
Just as Jack was wondering whether it would be a good idea to bite Joe hard or not, Kiki swooped down with a glad screech. ‘Kiki! Kiki! Bite him! Bite him!’ yelled Jack.
The parrot gladly fastened her sharp curved beak into a very fleshy part of the man’s arm. He let Jack go and gave an agonised yell. He hit out at Kiki, who was now well beyond reach, watching for a chance to attack again.
This time she tore at Joe’s ear, and he yelled loudly. ‘Call that bird off! I’ll wring her neck!’
Jack disappeared down the cliff path. When he was safely out of reach, he called Kiki.
‘Kiki! Come on. You’re a very good bird.’
Kiki took a last bite at Joe’s other ear and then flew off with a screech. She flew to Jack’s shoulder and made soft noises in his ear. He scratched her head gently as he made his way back to the house, his heart beating fast.
‘Keep out of Joe’s way, Kiki,’ he said. ‘He certainly will wring your neck now, if he can. I don’t know what you did to him – but it must have been something very painful.’
Jack woke up Philip and told him what had happened. ‘I expect the light was from a ship at sea,’ he said, ‘but I don’t know what the other light was. Joe said he went up to see too, but he thought it was made by the “things” he is always talking about. Golly, I nearly got tanned by him, Philip. If it hadn’t been for Kiki, I guess I’d have had a bad time.’
‘Good old Kiki,’ said Philip, and Kiki repeated his words in delight.
‘Good old Kiki, good old Kiki, good old . . .’
‘That’s enough,’ said Jack, and Kiki stopped. Jack snuggled deep into bed. ‘I’m tired,’ he said. ‘I hope I soon go to sleep. I simply couldn’t doze off before. I kept thinking and thinking of the Isle of Gloom.’
But it was not long before he was asleep, dreaming of a large map that had the island marked on it, then of a boat that was trying to get to the isle, and then of Joe clutching him and trying to pull back both him and the boat.
The children felt pleased the next morning when they remembered that Bill Smugs had said they could try out the boat by themselves. They set off early, having done all their jobs very quickly. Joe was in a bad temper that day. He slouched about, frowning, glaring at Jack and Kiki as if he would like to get hold of both of them.
For once in a way he did not follow them about or try to track them where they went. Aunt Polly was determined that he was going to do some work that morning, and she set him all kinds of tasks. He saw that it would be no good trying to evade them, so, very sulkily, he set to work, and the children were able to escape easily without being seen.
‘I’m going to the town today,’ said Bill, when they arrived at his tumbledown shack. ‘I simply must get hammer and nails and wood, and mend up my house a bit. Some more bits of wall have fallen down, and I spent last night with a gale rushing all round me – or what seemed like a gale in this small place. I must do a spot of mending. Do you want to come with me and do some shopping again too?’
‘No, thank you,’ said Jack at once. ‘We would rather go out in the boat, please, Bill. It’s quite a calm day. We will be very careful.’
‘You’ll remember your promise, of course,’ said Bill, and looked at Jack sharply. The boy nodded.
‘I won’t go far out,’ he said, and the others said the same. They saw Bill off in his car, and watched him going carefully down the bumpy way to join the rough-and-ready road that led to the town.
Then they went to get the boat. Bill had left it out on the rocks, in its hiding place. The children had not discovered why he liked to keep it there, but they imagined that he did not want it stolen when he was away from the place. They had to swim out to it, wrapping their dry clothes in an oilskin bag that Bill lent them for the purpose. Philip towed it behind him.
They reached the rocks and made their way over them to the flattish stretch where the boat was hauled up, well out of reach of the waves. They undid the oilskin bag and changed into dry things. They threw their bathing-suits into the boat and then pulled her down to the water.
The sea was deep around the rocks, and the boat slid neatly in, with hardly a splash. The children piled into her, and the two boys took the oars.
With a little trouble they rowed the big boat away from the rocks and out into open water. Then they faced the task of putting up the sail without Bill Smugs to help them.
‘It ought to be easy enough to us,’ panted Jack, tugging at various ropes. ‘We did it yesterday by ourselves.’
But yesterday Bill had shouted directions at them. Now there was no one to help them if they got into a muddle. Still, they did get the sail up after a time. Dinah was nearly knocked overboard, but just managed to save herself. She was very angry.
‘You did that on purpose, Philip,’ she said to her brother, who was still struggling with different ropes. ‘Just you apologise! Bill said there wasn’t to be any hanky-panky or silly tricks on board.’
‘Shut up,’ said Philip, getting suddenly caught in a rope that seemed determined to hang him. ‘Jack, help me.’
‘Take the tiller, Dinah,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll help old Tufty.’
But it was Dinah who, suddenly seeing that Philip was indeed in difficulties, came to his rescue and untangled him.
‘Thanks,’ said Philip. ‘Blow these ropes! I seem to have undone too many. Is the sail all right?’
It seemed to be. The wind filled it and the boat began to rush along. It was fun. The children felt important at being alone, managing the boat all by themselves. It was, after all, a very big boat for children to sail. Jack looked across the water to where the Isle of Gloom loomed up. One day he would go there – land on it – look around – and goodness knows what he might find! A picture of the Great
Auk rose in his mind and in his excitement he gybed the boat round and the sail swung across, almost knocking off the heads of the crouching children.
‘Idiot!’ said Philip indignantly. ‘Here, let me take the tiller. We shall all be in the water if you play about like that.’
‘Sorry,’ said Jack. ‘I was just thinking of something – how I’d go off in Joe’s boat. When do you think we could, Philip? In two or three days’ time?’
‘I should think we could sail Joe’s boat all right by then,’ said Philip. ‘It’s easy enough once you’ve got the knack and are quick enough. I’m getting to know the feel of the wind, and its strength – really feeling at home in the boat. Poor Lucy-Ann never will, though. Look how green she’s gone.’
‘I’m all right,’ said Lucy-Ann valiantly. They had run into a choppy patch, and poor Lucy-Ann’s tummy didn’t like it. But nothing would ever persuade her to let the others go without her, even if she knew she was going to feel sick all the time. Lucy-Ann had plenty of pluck.
The children furled the sail after a time and got out the oars. They carefully remembered their promise and did not go very far away. They thought it would be a good thing to practise rowing for a while too.
So all of them took turns, and soon they could pull the boat along well, and make it go any way they liked, even without the rudder.
Then they put up the sail once more and sailed to shore, feeling very proud of themselves. When they came near the shore they saw Bill Smugs waving to them. He had already come back.
They sailed in to the beach, and pulled in the boat. ‘Good!’ said Bill. ‘I was watching you out at sea. You did very well. Have another go tomorrow.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ said Jack. ‘I suppose we couldn’t have a try this afternoon too, could we? Dinah and Lucy-Ann wouldn’t be able to, because they’ve got to do something for Aunt Polly. But Philip and I could come.’
The girls knew that Jack wanted to see if he and Philip were able to manage the boat by themselves, in preparation for going out alone in Joe’s boat. So they said nothing, much as they would have liked to join in, and Bill Smugs said yes, the boys could go along that afternoon if they liked.
