Secret Water

by Arthur Ransome

  A slow grin spread over the face of the larger of the two boys.

  The girl looked at Susan. “Are you Eels or are you not?” she said. “You’ve never given the countersign.”

  “Congers and Lampreys,” said Nancy, and gave Susan a look as powerful as a battering ram. “Try us again.”

  “Karabadangbaraka,” said the three savages.

  “Akarabgnadabarak,” burst from the seven explorers.

  “That’s all right,” said the girl. “I’m Daisy. These are my brothers. We’re all Eels. They’re not twins, but everybody thinks they are. I call them Dum and Dee, you, know, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, and you can too as you’re blood brothers. You must be John and you’re Susan. And that’s Roger. Which is the one with the funny name?”

  “Oh no,” said Bridget. “This is Susan. That’s Peggy. This is Titty. And that’s Captain Nancy. I told you. She and Peggy are pirates when they’re at home.”

  “Not here,” said Nancy quickly. “It’s a much better place for savages than pirates. And with Eel blood in us. …”

  “Oh but look here, Nancy,” said John, who saw her turning savage before his eyes. “We’ve simply got to finish the map. The last two days we’ve done hardly anything.”

  “What about the map?” said Daisy. “What’s it for? I couldn’t make head or tail of what our prisoner was saying.”

  “Exploring,” said Titty. “And the Mastodon was helping. That’s why we did all the blooding. And then your letter upset everything and he wished he hadn’t.”

  “We’ll all help,” said Daisy. “It’s the best thing he ever did. And Mastodon’s a lovely name for Don. I wish we’d thought of it ourselves.”

  “Where is he?” asked Nancy.

  “He’s been looking for you,” said John.

  “We haven’t seen him,” said Daisy.

  “He’s pretty miserable,” said Nancy.

  CHAPTER XX

  ALL’S WELL

  THE MASTODON, LOW in spirits, was rowing down the channel from the town. Twice already that day he had been to Flint Island and seen only the missionaries’ ship, no savage boats at their usual landing place and empty tents in the camp of the Eels. He had seen the signals last night and they must have seen his answer. All morning he had been expecting them. They could not have sailed through the Red Sea, because until late in the afternoon there had been no water to let them. He had been sure they would come sailing up the Secret Water, three little boats, as they had come sailing many times before. But they had never come. Again and again he turned over in his mind what he was to say to them, to explain how and why instead of fending off the explorers he had made friends with them and even made them blood brothers of the Eels. Would they understand or would they not? Would Daisy ever forgive him for letting out the secrets they kept even from their own missionaries?

  Almost he hated the explorers. Somehow they had swept him off his feet, and he had found himself eagerly telling them things he had no right to tell unless after a council of the tribe. Get rid of them? Why, they had made him welcome them instead. And then for the hundredth time he began to find excuses for them and for himself. They were not just invaders. They had been marooned. They could not get away until a ship came to take them off. And it wasn’t as if they were just camping. They were explorers, and what could be more natural than that they should meet savages and that the savages, in return for beads and things (Oh bother! He hadn’t even got the fishhooks to show Daisy what had happened) should act as guides? And then that map business. They’d never get it decently done without someone who really did know something about mud. A poor show they would make of it. And then he began to feel a traitor to the explorers as well as to the Eels. It had been pretty awful rowing past and seeing them at work without him when he had promised to help. And they had been jolly decent about it. Not one of them had reproached him with a single word. They had just watched him row by, and today, when he had spoken to them from a distance and asked if they had seen the Eels, they had answered him just as if he had not let them down.

  And now the Eels would be thinking. … Well, what would they be thinking? They must have been expecting him to come to Flint Island? And he had been expecting them to come to Speedy. It had never happened before that they had not got in touch with each other almost as soon as they arrived. Perhaps they had thought he would come rowing around in the dark last night. Perhaps they had wanted a council round the camp fire. And he had just sat tight in Speedy, carving a new totem to take the place of the old one he had given to the explorers. Pretty good totem, too, he could not help thinking, as he looked at it propped in the stern of his boat … though, of course, it was a pity that the paint wasn’t dry. But what would Daisy say when he had to tell her that he had given another totem just as good to the strangers she had told him to drive into the sea?

  And where were the Eels anyhow? He had been sure they had gone up to the town in the morning, been held there by the falling tide and had waited for the afternoon flood. And now he had rowed the whole way up to the Yacht Club Hard. And no one had seen them that day. He had just missed them the day before. He was rowing disconsolately back. He knew where Lapwing was anyhow, and there was only one thing to do, though it was rather humiliating to a savage. He would have to ask the missionaries. Daisy would have something to say about that too. If savages could not find out about each other without inquiring from paleface missionaries they were pretty poor savages.

  He rowed steadily on, down the middle of the channel. He passed the first of the three anchored boats. What was it Titty called them? Arab dhows? Not bad. Even Daisy would like that. He passed the second, and the third. Now for Lapwing. He must be close to her. He lifted his oars and turned round. There she was and … No need to ask the missionaries after all. There were the three little boats of the Eels drawn up on the beach. And two other boats, most awfully like. … What on earth had happened? Had the explorers attacked them? Seven to three. And he had not been there to help. Every single thing in the world was going wrong. His oars bit the water with a splash.

  “Hullo, Don!”

  He looked up. This was no moment in which to talk to missionaries. But there was the he-missionary looking out from Lapwing’s forehatch.

  “Hullo,” said Don.

  “We’ve got the kettle on here,” said the he-missionary. “If you’re going across to the camp, will you tell them to come when we ring the fog-bell? Tell them they can bring their friends. You too, of course.”

  “Thank you very much,” said Don, dipped his oars again and rowed as if in a boat-race for the beach! Friends! FRIENDS! Why there might be no camp left. He had told the explorers that Daisy had ordered him to get rid of them and do anything short of burning their tents. The explorers might well have decided that attack was the best part of defence. Seven to three. What could the Eels have done against them? Don rowed as hard as he could, drove the bow of his boat up the shingle, jumped from it, threw the anchor out and charged to the rescue up the steep slope of the shore.

  “Hullo, Mastodon!”

  Dum, or was it Dee? greeted him before he had gone more than a couple of yards.

  “What’s happened?” panted Don, and gasped. “Mastodon” the Eel had called him. But that was the explorers’ name for him. What, indeed, had happened? He ran up to the top of the slope and looked down into the sandy hollow of the camp. A whole crowd of people were eagerly talking by the tents.

  “Karabadangbaraka!” called Daisy with a laugh.

  “Karabadangbaraka!” they all shouted together.

  The Mastodon could hardly believe his ears. All was peace. Eels and explorers were together, and Daisy, Daisy herself, had been the first to give the secret password in the presence of the people she had said were to be driven off at all costs.

  “Akarabgnadabarak,” the Mastodon answered at last in a very puzzled voice.

  Then, stuck in the sand in the middle of the camp of the Eels, he saw the totem that he himself h
ad planted in the camp of the explorers.

  “It’s a beauty,” said Daisy. “We thought they’d grabbed it so we took it away without their knowing. We got a prisoner too. We’d no idea that they were Eels, till Bridget told us. It’s the best thing you’ve ever done. And we’re all going to call you Mastodon. Don’s as good a short for Mastodon as it is for Donald. Just the name for a savage. You’ll have to make another totem for us.”

  “It’s in my boat, but the paint’s still wet. …” said the Mastodon. “You see I’d made this one for you, and put it in their camp by mistake. …”

  “They’ve told us all about it,” said Daisy. “Best mistake you’ve ever made. And now they’re going to let us help with the exploring, and four’s not many for a corroboree, but we can have as many of them as we want. …”

  “Daisy says it’s all right about me,” said Bridget. “I asked her.”

  “We’re going to take them to the upper waters tomorrow. … All six boats. …”

  The Mastodon looked from face to face, and saw not a hint of blame on any of them. Daisy must have forgotten the orders she had sent. The explorers must have forgotten that for two days their blood brother had held himself aloof. The same thing must have happened to Daisy that had happened to himself and everything was very much all right.

  “But how did you get their totem?” he asked.

  “Good eeling,” said Daisy.

  “They got it and got away again without my noticing anything,” said Titty ruefully. “I was in the camp all the time and never knew.”

  “Not your fault,” said Daisy. “Dum’s our best Eel. He could scalp a whole camp full and the victims wouldn’t know till they saw their own scalps hanging round his waist. …”

  CLING, CLANG … CLING, CLANG … CLING, CLANG! …

  “What’s that?” said Nancy.

  “It’s the missionaries,” said the Mastodon. “They said I was to tell you to come to Lapwing for tea. The others are to come too. …”

  “Oh, we can’t,” said Susan.

  “You must,” said Daisy. “It’ll be a bit sardiny in the cabin. I wonder if they know how many. Come on. They’ll be awfully sick if you don’t … COMING!” she yelled at the top of a shrill voice. … Then, almost whispering, she added, “No Eels. You’ve never heard of them. Nothing about prisoners. … Nothing. … Eels. What are eels? Fish, I think, or are they reptiles? Anyway, just part of natural history. …”

  The Mastodon ran back to his boat and brought the new totem and set it up beside the other. “Look out for the wet paint,” he said.

  “You can collect yours when we come back after tea,” said Daisy to the explorers. “Come on. Everybody ready? … Prunes and prisms. … Come on. …”

  “Suffering Lampreys!” exclaimed Nancy. “However do you do it? You even look quite different.”

  “’Sh!” said Daisy. “What a quaint expression. I wonder where you picked that up. … I think, perhaps, we had better come in your boats, so as not to have too many clustering round the Lapwing.”

  Wizard and Firefly, heavily laden, six in one, five and a kitten in the other, were ferried across to the Lapwing. Eels and explorers had somehow vanished. Anybody might have taken them for members of a picnic party.

  The missionary and his wife, who looked just an ordinary pleasant couple of grown-ups, were waiting to receive them, with fenders handy, but unnecessary, as both John and Nancy showed that they could bring boats alongside a ship without damaging the paint.

  “Well, this is delightful,” said the she-missionary. “So you have found friends already.”

  “I am afraid there are an awful lot of us,” said Susan.

  “The more the merrier,” said the he-missionary. “We’ve a big kettle, but not quite enough cups. But I daresay some of you won’t mind drinking out of saucers.”

  “Sinbad’ll like it,” said Bridget.

  “So’ll I,” said Titty hurriedly.

  “And me,” said Roger.

  *

  It was a very pleasant tea party of the sedater sort. Polite questions were asked and answered. The missionaries had heard at Pin Mill about the adventures of the Goblin and how she had got to Holland, and Susan earnestly explained that they had not meant to go to sea. Nancy and Peggy wondered whether the Lapwing was as big as the Goblin, and learnt that she was bigger. The explorers were shown all over her, and, with a good deal of squeezing, it was found that only four need have tea on deck if the he-missionary sat on the companion steps to pass up cups of tea and buns when wanted, and the she-missionary sat in the doorway between the saloon and the forecabin, which she said was the best arrangement as she had to keep within reach of the kettle. “In Goblin, the cooking place is aft,” said Roger, and added, “I think this way, with the galley forward, is almost cosier.” The he-missionary showed John round the decks, and Roger bolted out to join him, because, as he explained afterwards, it was too much for him to hear Nancy solemnly talking about gardening. Daisy was sitting in the cockpit, entertaining Susan and Titty with a few words about School Certificates. He caught her sparkling eye and nearly darted back again, but blew his nose instead (lucky that time he had a handkerchief) and hurried forward over the deck to ask an intelligent question about the working of the winch.

  The missionaries seemed very pleased that their children had found companions. “That will be very pleasant,” said the she-missionary, when she heard that they were all going to spend next day together. “Going to the upper waters is always one of our favourite picnics. Of course there is not much to do there, but it is a lovely place. Only you’ll have to be careful about your tides. You have to get there as soon as the tide will let you, and start back the moment it begins to fall. But the boys know all about that.”

  Susan, at the right moment, rose to go. Daisy and her brothers asked if John and Nancy would mind putting them ashore, and the whole party left the Lapwing after thanking the missionaries for letting them come aboard.

  “They’re the politest children I’ve ever met,” they heard the she-missionary say as they were rowing off.

  “Too polite to be good,” said the he-missionary. “Daisy’s up to one of her games. I know that look in her eye.” But fortunately this sentence was not heard by the departing guests.

  “You did awfully well,” said Daisy, as she landed.

  “Jolly nice missionaries,” said Roger.

  “They are,” said Daisy. “But missionaries are missionaries. It’s no good being Eels if you don’t remember that. What the eye doesn’t see … You know what I mean. Well, it’s much better not to give them things to grieve over. Aren’t you coming ashore?”

  “We’ve simply got to get back,” said John. “We’ve got things to put on the map. And supper to cook. And there’s a speck of wind too.”

  “Quick,” said Daisy. “Don, you get it. You mustn’t go without your totem. We’ll come to the mouth of the channel with you. …”

  Bridget held the totem as she sat in the bottom of Wizard with Sinbad on her lap. John steered. Susan sat on the middle thwart, when she had hoisted the sail. Close behind them Titty was steering Firefly, and a convoy of four savage boats rowed hard to keep up.

  At the mouth of the Secret Water the wind freshened, and the two boats of the explorers drew away. The savages turned back.

  “Tomorrow early,” called Daisy.

  “Well be ready,” John called back.

  “Karabadangbaraka,” called Nancy.

  “Akarabgnadabarak,” came from Dum, Dee, and the Mastodon.

  From Daisy came something slightly different.

  “Gnad … gnad,” shouted Bridget. “Did you hear, Susan? She said ‘Gand’ again. That’s how I knew it was her when I met her in the grass.”

  “Well, I’m glad it’s all right,” said Susan. “But you did give me an awful fright when I thought you’d fallen in.”

  “Dum and Dee,” said Roger. “The silent brothers. They both ought to be called Dumb.”

&nbs
p; “They’re grand savages,” said John. “And with six boats well be able to explore a hundred miles a day.”

  “We mustn’t waste them,” said Nancy. “Great Wriggling Congers, Titty! Look out how you’re steering. We don’t want to bump the other boat. Eels for ever! Suffering Lampreys! What a time we are going to have!”

  *

  Late that night, after dusk, when Bridget was already in bed and the others were turning in, Peggy heard the noise of oars in the creek. “What’s that?” she said. “They aren’t going to attack again?”

  They listened.

  The Mastodon’s voice, extraordinarily happy, sounded across the water. “I say. I’ll bring my splatchers across in the morning.”

  “Good,” cried John.

  “Karabadangbaraka,” called Nancy.

  “Akarabgnadabarak!” a joyful reply came out of the darkness, and the sound of oars drew rapidly away, as the Mastodon rowed up the creek to make his way to Speedy and his lair.

  CHAPTER XXI

  SIX BOATS EXPLORE

  FIRST THING IN the morning, even before the breakfast things had been washed up and put away, the Mastodon arrived in the camp bringing his splatchers with him.

  “Karabadangbaraka!” he greeted them joyfully, and, almost before they had time to give the countersign, went on. “Everybody’s coming to supper in Speedy tonight. I’ve still got that ham and all the grub Mother gave me when I told her I’d asked you the other day.”

  “Three cheers!” said Roger.

  “We’d love to come,” said Susan. “But we’ve gone and eaten the mushrooms and the blackberry mash we’d meant to bring.”

  “There’s simply tons of grub,” said the Mastodon. “The only thing I’m short of is mugs and plates.”

  “We’ll bring our own,” said Susan.

  “And could Roger bring his whistle?” said the Mastodon.