Secret Water

by Arthur Ransome

  “Pretty narrow just here,” said Daddy.

  “It doesn’t look it,” said Mother.

  “It is, all the same. There’s hard sand just below water on that side, and rocky flats on the other. At low tide we wouldn’t be able to get in.”

  “What would happen if we went over there?” said Roger, “so that we could have a better look at that tower.”

  “A good old bump,” said Daddy, “and no more Goblin if we weren’t lucky. Lots of boats have been smashed up on that.”

  “Are you sure it’s deep enough for us here?” asked Susan.

  “Plenty,” said Daddy.

  “I don’t see any islands,” said Bridget.

  “Right ahead of us,” said Daddy.

  ON THE WAY TO THE ISLANDS

  Ahead of them the land seemed hardly above the level of the sea, just a long low line above the water, with higher ground away behind it. But that low line of coast seemed to have no gaps in it. It looked as if it stretched the whole way round across the head of the bay. Even John began to doubt if there could be islands ahead. But Daddy was ticking off one buoy after another on Jim’s chart and seemed quite sure of his way. A couple of men were hauling a trawl net in a small boat and a cloud of gulls hovered above them. A motor boat appeared ahead, came to meet them and passed them in a flurry of foam.

  “She must have come out from somewhere,” said Titty, but still could see no gap in the coast line.

  “We’re nearly there,” said Daddy at last. “Look out for a round buoy with a cross on a stick above it.”

  “There it is,” called John. “Close to the shore.”

  Almost at the same moment, everybody saw a break in the line of sand away to the south, and a thread of water going in there, and one or two tall masts showing above sand dunes. And, as they came nearer to that round buoy with the cross they saw that a much wider channel was opening before them with smooth shining water stretching to the west and low banks on either side.

  “There you are,” said Daddy. “That buoy marks the cross roads. Turn left, follow that creek in there, past those masts, and you’ll come to a town.”

  “I can see houses now,” said Roger, “and lots more boats.”

  “You can get right up to the town at high water in a dinghy. But if you go, don’t wait there too long, or there won’t be water to take you back.”

  “But we’re going to an island aren’t we?” said Titty. “Not a town.”

  “We are,” said Daddy. “We leave that buoy to port and carry straight on.”

  “Crossroads buoy,” said Roger as they passed it.

  A minute or two later they had left the open bay and the Goblin was slipping easily along in the quiet water of an inland sea. A low spit of land with a dyke along it already hid the creek that led to the town, though they could still see the tops of distant masts. Far away, on the opposite side, was another low dyke. Standing on the deck and in the cockpit they could see bushes here and there. Ahead of them the inland sea seemed to stretch on for ever.

  “What’s it called?” asked Titty, from the fore-deck.

  Daddy smiled. “Do you want the name on Jim’s chart? I thought you’d give it a name yourselves.”

  “It’s a very secret place,” said Roger. “You don’t see it until you’re almost inside.”

  “Secret Water,” said Titty. “Let’s call it that.”

  “Why not?” said Daddy and Titty scrambled into the cockpit and pencilled in the first name on Daddy’s blank map.

  “How far does it go?” asked John.

  “Good long way at high tide,” said Daddy.

  “It’s like a lake with no mountains,” said Titty.

  “But where are the islands?” asked Roger.

  “All round us,” said Daddy. He looked at his chart. “That’s one, right ahead. And that’s another, over there. And this is the island you’re going to be marooned on.” He pointed to port. “At high water you’ll be able to sail right round it through an inland sea wider than this, and get into the creek going to the town. At low water that’s probably all mud. Jim’s chart shows a track across it … My blank map’ll give you a general idea, but you’ll find it all out for yourselves.”

  “Unexplored,” said Titty, “until we’ve explored it.”

  “Just so,” said Daddy.

  “Gosh!” said Roger. “This is the real thing. Hullo! There’s another creek over on that side. And another on this. …”

  “That’s ours, I think,” said Daddy.

  The Goblin slipped on. A wide creek opened to starboard. But Daddy was taking no notice of it. He was watching a smaller creek that was gradually opening on the other side, and glancing now and then at Jim’s chart.

  “That must be the place,” he said. “I think we can run in now. Roll that jib up, John.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “Ready? Haul away. Make fast. Now come aft and take her.”

  John hauled on the line that made the jib roll neatly up on itself, made fast so that it should not unroll again, and clambered back into the crowded cockpit. Already the Goblin had left the Secret Water and was in the creek, moving more slowly now, under mainsail only, between green shores.

  “Keep her as she’s going,” said Daddy, and went forward to deal with the anchor. There was the grumble and rattle of chain being hauled up and ranged on deck. Then Daddy was busy at the mast. The green banks slipped by. A heron got up and flapped slowly across the creek. A curlew cried. Daddy stood up on the foredeck watching the eastern bank, looking for something. Suddenly he flung out his right arm.

  “Starboard,” he said quietly, and John steered towards the western bank.

  “Now. Right round into the wind. Helm hard over.” John swung her round and the sail spilt the wind and flapped heavily as the Goblin headed back across the creek.

  Splash!

  The anchor was down, and Daddy was paying out chain. He was at the mast again. The boom lifted over their heads in the cockpit, and the sail came down with a run.

  “Two tiers,” said Daddy. “We shan’t need more.”

  In a minute or two, he had bundled the sail along the boom and put a couple of tiers to hold it there.

  “We’ll call this Goblin Creek,” said Titty, pencil in one hand and the blank map in the other.

  “Good name,” said Daddy. “Now then, John, haul in that dinghy. Will you put your Mother and me ashore?”

  “What about us?” said Roger.

  “Your turn’ll come,” said Daddy. “We’ve got to visit that kraal and make sure the natives won’t want to tell you to clear out after we’ve sailed away.”

  CHAPTER IV

  THE EXPEDITION GOES ASHORE

  “YOU CAN SEE it’s an island now,” said Titty. “Look at all that water behind it. And, I say, Daddy’s blank map’s wrong. That lump isn’t a peninsula. It’s another little island.”

  “Rum islands, aren’t they?” said Roger. “No rocks.”

  “They’re landing,” cried Bridget.

  John was rowing Daddy and Mummy ashore. They were close to a sort of gap in the green bank, where the tops of some piles showed above the water. Daddy was pointing. John looking over his shoulder and took a stroke or two. The Wizard grounded. Daddy had taken an oar from John and was prodding over the side. He was feeling for foothold. He was stepping out into the water.

  “Daddy’s landed,” said Bridget.

  They saw him pull the boat a little further up. Mother was getting out, then John, carrying the anchor. They saw all three, splashing a little, lifting their feet high and putting them down carefully, walking one behind the other, as if in a narrow path, towards the dyke. They were on the dyke, clear against the sky. They had stopped by a row of bushes and small trees. Daddy was pointing this way and that. John was stamping about, as if trying the hardness of the ground.

  “Come on, the Able-seamen,” said Susan. “All hands to untying those knots. They’ll be wanting those groundsheets off the ca
bin roof first of all.”

  “Daddy and Mother have gone,” said Bridget. “John’s coming back. No he isn’t. He’s taking the mast and sail out of the Wizard. He’s carrying them ashore. He nearly fell down. He’s going to fall down. No he isn’t … I say, can’t I go ashore and help?”

  “You can’t till he comes back,” said Susan.

  “Why’s he taking the mast and sail out?” said Roger.

  “To make room for the stores, of course,” said Susan.

  Presently they saw John back at the Wizard, sitting on the gunwale and washing his boots in the water. Then he came rowing off to the Goblin.

  “Groundsheets first,” he said as he came near. “You’ll have to get them unlashed.”

  “They’re all ready,” said Susan.

  “Well done. Can you heave them down?”

  “Have you got a good place for the camp?” asked Titty.

  “Gorgeous,” said John. “But it’s going to be an awful job getting the things ashore without covering them with mud.”

  “Hadn’t you better wash your hands?” said Susan.

  “I’ve done it once already,” said John, but glancing down at his hands he dipped them again over the side of the dinghy.

  “He can do his face afterwards,” said Roger.

  “You shut up,” said John. “Just wait till you’ve tried it. It’s all right once you’re on the dyke, but getting across the saltings the mud splashes up over everything.”

  “What are saltings?” asked Titty.

  “That’s what Daddy called it … sort of marshy ground between the creek and the dyke. He says it goes under water at very high tides. Good, Susan. Hang on just a moment. Now let it come. …”

  The first bundle of groundsheets was lowered into the dinghy. It was followed by another and yet another.

  “Can’t we come ashore too?” said Bridget.

  “Susan had better,” said John. “To help carry the things up. You can come too.”

  “And Sinbad?”

  “All right. The Able-seamen had better stay in the Goblin to pass the things down. We don’t want to bring more mud aboard than we can help. Come on. Room for a couple of tent-rolls. … Now Susan.”

  Susan slipped down into the dinghy.

  “Bridget next. …”

  “Give me Sinbad,” said Susan. “You’ll want both hands.”

  “I’ll never manage,” said Bridget looking down from Goblin’s deck into the loaded dinghy.

  “You will,” said John. “Sit on the edge … right at the edge. Now let yourself go.”

  Bridget found herself in a heap on the ground-sheets.

  “I did it all right,” she said and her face which had for a moment been serious broke into a pleased smile.

  “Fend off, Susan,” said John, and the Wizard started on her second voyage to the shore.

  There was not far to go, but the loaded boat grounded a little further out than she had last time.

  LANDING THE GEAR

  “The water’ll be over Bridget’s boots,” said Susan.

  “I’ll carry her,” said John. “She’ll have to get on my back.”

  “What about Sinbad?” said Bridget. “Can you manage two people at once?”

  “I’ll take Sinbad,” said Susan. “You’ll want both arms to hang on to John.”

  John, after taking the anchor ashore, came back and, standing in the water stooped with his back to the dinghy till he was almost sitting on the gunwale.

  “Up you come, Bridgie,” he said.

  Bridget stood on the thwart, let herself fall forward and got John firmly round the neck. John felt behind him and took hold of her legs. He lifted, and choked.

  “Don’t throttle him, Bridget,” said Susan.

  John gave a good jerk that jolted Bridget higher on his back, and took a step towards the shore. Down went his foot through a patch of soft mud and he all but fell. The next foot was luckier, finding a stone. Step by step he staggered up the path through the saltings till he came to harder ground where he dumped his passenger and took a long breath.

  “You must have eaten ten times your share of those sandwiches,” he said.

  Susan, taking now a long stride, now a short, now sliding back, now slipping forward, came after them with Sinbad. Then, while Susan and John went back to bring the things up from the boat, Bridget and Sinbad climbed up the dyke, and were presently standing guard over a growing pile, as the Captain and the Mate staggered to and fro across the saltings as fast as the mud and their loads would let them.

  Meanwhile, aboard the Goblin, the Able-seamen were busy lugging things up from below and stacking them on the decks and on the cabin roof ready for the ferrying ashore. Presently John came back for another cargo, and then again for another.

  “I do believe that’s the lot,” said Titty at last.

  “Nothing left down below,” said Roger.

  “Hop in then,” said John. “But jolly well sit steady, or we’ll have the water over the gunwales.”

  The Goblin lay deserted and the last of the explorers landed on the island. The last boatload, with four porters instead of only two, did not take long to carry up across the saltings to the dyke.

  The dyke for the most part was narrow, just wide enough for a path along the top of it, but at the place where the explorers had dumped their stores it widened, giving plenty of room for a camp well above the level of the marshes. On the inner side it sloped steeply down to meadowland, with a drain running along the foot of it, and close to the camp there was a small pond. Just here there was a row of little stunted trees and bushes, and beyond them they could see cattle grazing in the distance, and the roof and chimneys of a farmhouse. Looking northward they could see where Goblin Creek opened into the Secret Water, and to the south they could see the creek again, curving round and opening into another inland sea.

  “It’s a lovely place for a base camp,” said Titty. “And luckily the native kraal’s a good long way off.”

  “What’s in this box?” said Roger. “Can I start unpacking?”

  “Not yet,” said John. “All hands to pitching tents. Let’s have it looking like a camp before Daddy and Mother come back.”

  “Lay the groundsheet first to see how they go,” said Susan. “We can have the little ones facing the creek, but the big one’ll have to go between these two trees. Let’s get that one done first, so that in case Mother comes back too soon she’ll be able to see where Bridget’s going to sleep.”

  The big tent was one of the two they had used on their first visit to Wild Cat Island. It had to be slung on a rope between trees, not like the little tents, which had their own poles, and could be pitched anywhere. It was always rather a job to get it up, because of the difficulty of getting the rope high enough and taut enough. With these little trees it was worse than usual, but John and Susan managed it at last, and Bridget found her way inside it even before its walls were properly pegged down. They looked round to see that Roger’s and Titty’s tents were already pitched. Titty was unrolling Susan’s own tent, which, as she was not going to sleep in it, was to be used for a storehouse.

  “Where’s Roger?” said Susan.

  But just then Roger came running along the dyke.

  “I’ve been to the corner to look at the other island,” he said. “Daddy and Mother are in sight, coming from the kraal. They’ll be here in a minute.”

  There was frenzied work in the camp. Boxes and knapsacks were bundled out of sight. The last two tents went up in record time. Titty had pulled one of the surveying poles from among the others and was hurriedly fastening Swallow’s flag to it. The moment it was done John drove it into the ground, and Daddy and Mother came back to find all five tents up, and the Swallow flag on a bamboo flagstaff fluttering in the breeze.

  “Good work,” said Daddy.

  “Everything’s ashore,” said John.

  “Not properly stowed,” said Susan. “We’ve pushed things in anyhow, just so that you could see the ca
mp.”

  “Good camp, too,” said Daddy. “Well, you’re lucky, there’s a very decent chap at the farm and he says any friend of Jim Brading’s a friend of his, so that’s all right. But he says you mustn’t drink from the pond. Salt water got into it and spoilt it. All right for washing but keep it out of your mouths. I’ll put ashore two full water carriers from the Goblin, and when you want more you’ll have to get it from the well at the farm. I’ll bring them ashore now, and then we’ll have to be starting. The tide’s going down fast.”

  “What about your fireplace, Susan?” said Mother, as Daddy hurried down to the landing place.

  “There’s a good place on dry ground just below the tents,” said Susan.

  “No stones here to build it with,” said Mother.

  “Plenty of earth,” said Susan, “and we’ve got a spade.”

  “There’s no post on the island,” said Mother, “but you can send messages through the man at the farm. He goes to the mainland nearly every day. And you’ve got Miss Powell’s telephone number.”

  “But is there a telephone?” said Roger.

  “No there isn’t. Not on the island. But the farmer’ll telephone for you if you want anything, or you can if you go to the mainland yourselves. And we’ve got the number of his dairy in the town, so that we can get a message to you through him. What’s become of Bridget?”

  Susan pointed quietly to the big tent. Mother looked into it. Susan had already made up her bed and Bridget’s with rugs and sleeping bags. From the smaller of the sleeping bags came a loud snore.

  “Sure you wouldn’t rather sleep comfortably in a bed at Miss Powell’s?” said Mother.

  Bridget sat up suddenly. “Oh, Mummy!” she said.

  “Oh well,” said Mother. “I suppose you have to grow up some time.”

  “Sinbad’s the youngest now,” said Bridget.

  Aboard the Goblin, Daddy had already lowered the two big galvanized water carriers into Wizard lying alongside. He was busy at the foot of the mast.