“I’m going to carry my own mug,” said Bridget.
“We’re not going,” said Roger.
“I wish we could fry every eel in the world except him,” said Nancy. “It isn’t only your wrist that’s bust.”
“Not going?” said Bridget.
“What on earth’s happened?” said Susan the moment she saw them.
“It’s the rest of the Eels,” said John. “They’re coming, and they’ve got to know about our being here, and they’ve sent him a letter telling him to clear us out. And he doesn’t know what to do because he’s made friends with us first.”
“He wishes he hadn’t blooded,” said Titty.
“He showed us the letter,” said Nancy. “Jolly clever. All the letters inside out and the words the wrong way round. They knew about me and Peggy coming in the motor boat. …”
“Two females,” said Roger with a grin.
Nancy scowled at him. “They knew about the camp. They told him to chivvy us out. They told him to do anything short of setting our tents on fire. So he couldn’t very well have us to supper. Those beasts may be here already. And he thinks they’ll think he’s a traitor. He’ll never come with us again.”
“They’re going to send up rockets at dusk,” said Roger.
“Why didn’t you bring him along here?” said Susan.
“Wouldn’t come,” said John.
“Oh, I say!” said Bridget. “Does it mean they won’t let me be a human sacrifice? I think they’re horrid. And I bled more than anybody.”
“He blooded with them before he did it with us,” said Titty.
“They want the whole place to themselves,” said Nancy.
“Cheer up, Bridgie,” said John. “We’ll sacrifice you ourselves.”
“But I’ve never even seen Speedy,” said Bridget.
“We’ve done a huge lot of blackberry mash,” said Susan, “and the mushrooms are just ready to take across.”
“They won’t be altogether wasted,” said Roger. “We can eat them here.”
“We’d better have supper right away,” said Susan. “I’ll open a tin of pemmican.”
“He had a ham,” said Roger. “And simply tons of grub.”
“Well we’ve got tons too,” said Susan. “Bother those Eels.”
What with pemmican and stewed mushrooms, a mash of blackberries and bananas, and a bottle of grog to each explorer, it was too good a supper to allow much talking. It was so good a supper that even Nancy, though still fierce at being called a female and having her most private plans upset, cheered up a little.
“Well,” she said, “if it’s going to be war. …”
“But it isn’t,” said John. “They won’t have anything to do with us. And the worst of it is, we shan’t have a guide any longer. But we didn’t count on having one. And anyway we’ve done a tremendous lot before we’ve lost him. Come on Nancy, let’s get at those maps. I’ll just fetch the parallel rulers.”
No inking was done that evening. There was the survey of Mastodon Island to work out, in which everybody had taken a hand, besides the mapping of that corkscrew channel going in to Witch’s Quay. The explored part of the map had spread that day both east and south, and they were hard at it with pencils and rulers until Bridget had long gone to bed and it was too dark to see. Dusk fell, and dark.
“Where’s Roger?” said Susan suddenly. “And Titty?”
There was the flicker of a torch along the dyke. Roger and Titty came back into the camp.
“Well, they aren’t here yet,” said Titty.
“How do you know?” said Nancy.
“No rockets,” said Roger. “We’ve been watching for them.”
CHAPTER XVI
ENEMY’S COUNTRY
“NOT A SIGN of the Mastodon,” said Roger.
“He won’t be coming here anyway,” said Titty.
They had gone down to the landing place after breakfast and, barefooted, black to the knees with mud, were working Wizard down towards the water.
Peggy came down to join them, left her boots on the saltings, and began pulling at Firefly.
“You push at Wizard’s nose,” said Roger, “and then we’ll come and help to get Firefly out. The mud’s most beastly sticky.”
“Have they decided yet?” asked Titty.
“Still at it,” said Peggy. “But one thing’s settled. We’re all coming. John says the Mastodon won’t do anything to our tents. He knows we’re marooned and can’t get away. Besides, he’s a blood brother even if he wishes he wasn’t. But once the others come we’ll have to leave a guard all the time. Today’ll be the last chance of exploring with the whole expedition. Susan’s packing the grub now.”
“Bother the beastly Eels,” said Titty. “Roger, don’t splash!”
“Eels,” said Roger. “I felt one wriggling round my toes.”
“Well, you needn’t send the mud flying all over the place.”
“Where are we going?” said Roger.
“Don’t know,” said Peggy. “Nancy wanted an attack on the Mastodon. She said that if we captured him and held him prisoner we could tell the other Eels that if they weren’t decent we’d never let him go.”
“Good idea,” said Roger. “We could take his worms too, and do some fishing. I say, we could make him fish and be a prisoner at the same time … a sort of tame cormorant.’’
“John and Susan said ‘No’. Susan said we can’t have him a prisoner in our camp because there isn’t a spare tent. Nancy said it was quite warm at nights and we could tether him like a goat. John said it wasn’t as if he was an enemy. It’s not the Mastodon’s fault that the other Eels want the whole place to themselves. And somebody’d have to guard him all day, and he’s too strong for anybody except John, and that would mean that the map would never get done. So we’re just going exploring without him.”
“He was fine as a native guide,” said Titty.
“But if he doesn’t want to be one any longer,” said Peggy.
They worked first Wizard and then Firefly down to the edge of the water. They had just got Firefly afloat when they saw the rest of the expedition coming down the path across the saltings, everybody carrying something. Bridget carrying Sinbad, John with the compass and a knapsack, Nancy with a compass and a bundle of surveying poles, and Susan with a kettle of drinking water.
“Where are we going?” asked Roger.
Nancy answered. “We’re going to explore Flint Island while we can. We shan’t be able to do it when they’re camped there so if we don’t get it done now there’ll be all that lump left unexplored.”
“I say,” said Roger. “What if they come while we’re on their island?”
“We’ll see their ship in plenty of time to clear off,” said John.
“It’ll be six to three anyway,” said Nancy.
“Four with the Mastodon,” said Titty.
“They’ll be six too,” said Roger.
“They won’t make their missionaries fight,” said Nancy. “And who cares if they do?”
“You always leave me out,” said Bridget.
“We’ll be seven,” said Nancy.
“And Sinbad.”
“Jibbooms and bobstays. Eight if you like,” said Nancy. “Who’s coming in our boat? Hop in Bridget. You and Sinbad’ll fit in fine before the mast. We’ve got room for one more, or a lot of baggage. All right, Roger.”
Titty looked at Nancy but said nothing. She knew very well why Nancy had stopped swearing like an Eel.
“We don’t want a row if we can help it,” said John.
“I suppose it’s no good even trying to collect the Mastodon?” said Peggy.
“Bob-tailed galoot,” said Nancy. “Can’t you understand he’s wishing he’d never met us?”
The two little boats were loaded up. The explorers, sitting on the gunwales, washed their feet or their boots over the side so as not to fill the boat with mud. Sails were hoisted and a good southwest wind soon blew them out of the creek into th
e Secret Water. Everybody just glanced up the creek as they left it, but there was no sign of the Mastodon. They had only known the Mastodon a couple of days, but, after all, they had made a blood brother of him and it was as if they had lost an old friend, besides having pricked their fingers for nothing.
But out in the sunshine on the Secret Water, with the sails pulling, and the cheerful lap-lap under the forefoot, nobody could feel grim for long. Just to look at the other boat, foaming along, made each crew feel how fast they were going.
“Ahoy, Admiral,” said Captain Nancy. “Race you to the point.”
“All right. Whoever’s first to the buoy with a cross on it. We’ve got to go round that to get into the other channel.”
“Shift your weight up a bit, Peggy,” said Nancy. “Giminy, they’re gaining on us already. Is anything wrong with our sail?”
“I could get the boom down a little by the mast,” said Roger.
“Go ahead. That’s better. Cock the peak up all you can.”
First one and then the other boat shot ahead as their crews tried different dodges to get the most out of their sails. The shores of their island, already mapped, slipped by. Before them the Secret Water opened to the sea. Far away, brown sailed barges were coming out of harbour with the last of the ebb to get the whole six hours of the flood tide to help them on their way to London.
“Bother the sun,” said John. “I say Susan. Is that the crossroads buoy?”
“Sun’s in my eyes too,” said Susan, “but I think it is. Yes, there’s the cross on the top of it.”
“Roger’s spotted it,” said Titty, looking across at Firefly. “They’re going to win.”
“They’re too near the shore,” said John. “Nancy doesn’t know about tides. More tide here. We’re going faster than they are because we’re out in the stream.”
But, out in the middle, while the shore was still hiding it from Firefly’s crew, the explorers in Wizard were the first to catch a glimpse of the golden hummocks of Flint Island. It lost them the race.
“Gosh,” said John. “Look at those masts. Is that Lapwing there or not?”
“It’s only the dhows,” said Titty. “Three of them. They’ve been there all the time.”
“John,” cried Susan. “Look out for your steering.”
Wizard had swung right round into the wind. Her sail was flapping, and though John got her going again in a moment and back on her course, he passed the buoy a boat’s length astern of Firefly.
“We won,” cried Bridget.
“Nothing much in it,” said Nancy. “It’s as good as old Amazon and Swallow. Where now?”
“Starboard,” called John. “Look here. You follow us. We’ve been through here with the Mastodon and I’ve got it on my map. Leave those black buoys to port, and keep clear of the withies on this side.”
The channel suddenly narrowed. There was a sandy bank between it and the open sea. Ahead it stretched inland, a shining lane of water.
“What is there up there?” called Nancy.
“Town,” said John.
“Native Settlement,” said Titty. “And Cape Horn and Magellan Straits where we nearly got stuck with the Mastodon.”
“Bother the Mastodon,” said Nancy. “Where are we going to land?”
“There’s a sort of bay just before we come to those yachts,” said John. “That looks good enough. Up with the centreboard, Mister Mate. We don’t want to bust it. Good. Stand by to lower sail. … Now. …”
There was a gentle scrunch and then another, as the two ships of the explorers touched the steep, sandy beach.
*
For some minutes after landing, the explorers kept together. They felt a little as if they had broken into someone else’s house. The Lapwing was not in the anchorage; there were no tents among those sandy hillocks; the island was deserted; but they felt as if they might at any moment come face to face with the rightful owners.
Susan was the first to find the savage camping place. Close behind the steep rise of the beach there was a hollow in the sand. A small circle of charred stones was in the middle of it. “Here’s where they camp,” said Susan. “Lucky beasts. They’ve found stones to make a proper fireplace. And look at these logs. Much better than we get.”
“Open sea on the other side of the island,” said John. “They’ll get real driftwood.”
“Let’s bag some,” said Roger.
“No,” said Susan.
“We’ll get lots of our own,” said Titty.
They looked round the hollow and found the marks of tent pegs.
“Pretty good place they’ve got,” said Nancy.
“Wouldn’t it be awful if they came while we were here,” said Titty.
“They won’t,” said John. “We’d see them coming across from Harwich long before they were anywhere near. And anyway they won’t come till high water. Come on, Nancy. Let’s start. Skip along to the point, Roger, and plant a pole. And we’ll have one at the other side of the bay, and then one in the middle.”
“Have you been right up the channel?” asked Nancy, standing on the edge of the hollow and looking at the ribbon of water winding inland. “Ow! I say, Bridget, look out for this sea-holly. It’s as prickly as the land kind. You’ll be losing some more blood for nothing.”
“Not as far as the town,” said John. “We turned off round Cape Horn.”
Nancy was looking at her copy of the map. “Hadn’t we better get that done too while we can? And what’s this gap between Magellan Straits and Cape Horn?”
“We’ve got to keep a look out to sea,” said John. “So as to spot them coming.”
“Peggy and I’ll do it on our own,” said Nancy. “Or we’ll toss you for it. One lot works up to the town and the other does the island and keeps a look out.”
John hesitated. “Go ahead,” he said. “Work up with the tide. It’s just turning. It won’t be high water till about half past four. “That’s when they’ll be coming if they do come. But we’ll have to clear out as soon as we see them.”
“That’s all right,” said Nancy. “If we see your boat’s gone we’ll know what’s happened and nip back home through the Red Sea.”
“Look here,” said Susan. “If you do get to the town, could you telephone to Miss Powell’s to say we’re all right? Mother’ll have got that Report this morning, but I promised we’d ring up if we got a chance. Woolverstone 30.”
Nancy scribbled the number on the back of her map. “Right,” she said. “Lots of things have happened since we sent the Report. I’ll tell her. Enemies on every side. Hostile savages threatening massacre. All well and love from Everybody.”
“All well’s what matters,” said Susan.
“Don’t go off without your share of grub,” said Roger.
“Jolly good idea of Nancy’s,” said John, as the Firefly sailed away. “Once the savages are here it’ll never be safe to go out of sight of the camp. We’ve got to get every scrap done that we can do before they come.”
“And then just write ‘Cannibal Tribes’ over all the rest,” said Titty.
*
Steady work with the compass and surveying poles went on through the rest of the morning. They mapped the channel which, dry at low water, made Flint Island really an island when the tide came up and not just the nose of a promontory as it was shown on Daddy’s rough sketch. Before the tide came up and filled it, they made a hurried expedition along the sands beyond it, where Bridget found shells and Sinbad played with them, and they picked up good bits of driftwood for a midday fire on which to boil their kettle. There was a moment’s horror at the thought that the two explorers in Firefly would get none of the tea, but it was remembered that if they did indeed get to the town, they would be able to have something else instead. “Lapping up grog like anything,” said Roger. “I bet Nancy thought of that before she started.”
Susan made a new fireplace of her own, down on the seashore, well away from the fireplace of the Eels. And all the time, no mat
ter what they were doing, surveying, exploring, marking things down on the map, or eating their well earned meal on the single beach, their eyes kept turning seawards watching for the Lapwing with her fleet of little boats and the savages who had sent orders that they were to be driven away at all costs. After dinner, when the tide had cut off Flint Island from the main and was pouring in through the channel, they saw that they were not the only watchers.
Out near the mouth of the Secret Water the Mastodon was fishing from his anchored boat. He too was watching for a cutter, with three dinghies astern, coming in from the sea, ready to meet them when they arrived and, no doubt, to confess that instead of driving the explorers away, he had made friends with them, swopped blood with them, and given away to them the secrets of the Eels.
“Gosh!” said Roger. “I wish he’d come in for me. I bet he’s got a spare line in the boat. I wonder if he’s seen us.”
“Of course he has,” said Titty.
“Shall I wave?”
“No good,” said John. “Much better leave him alone.”
An hour before high water, mapping came to an end. They had done as much as they could do and, for the time, turned into coastguards, looking out to sea for an enemy vessel and keeping an eye also on that other watcher who still lay out there alone in his boat. The tide turned. The ebb began, and they saw that the Mastodon was getting up his anchor. Nothing was moving out at sea, except the big mainsail and tiny mizen of a barge so far away that they could not see her hull. The Mastodon stowed his anchor, took to his oars, and presently disappeared.
“Going home,” said John. “Well, they won’t be coming in now.”
“He’ll be alone again tonight,” said Titty. “Isn’t it beastly not being able to talk to him?”
“It isn’t our fault,” said John.
The Mastodon was hardly out of sight before, looking the other way, up the channel leading to the town, they saw Firefly coming back. The wind had dropped, and though the sail was set, somebody was using oars, and rowing as hard as she could.
Secret Water Page 15
