Secret Water

by Arthur Ransome

  “The mainland’s quite different from any of the islands,” said Titty. “More like a continent. You can see by the trees the salt water’s been kept off it for ages.”

  Indeed, it was hard to believe that the country before them was not a thousand miles from the islands, creeks and marshes they had left behind. The bare cart track over the Red Sea turned beyond the dyke into a country lane, with high hawthorn hedges and here and there hollies, oaks and ashes meeting overhead. Away in the distance were woods and stubble fields, the thatched roofs of cottages and a line of tall telegraph posts marking the main road leading into the town. They could see motor cars flashing along it.

  “Civilization,” said Titty. “I don’t suppose the people in the town ever dream they’re so near the Secret Water and the Country of the Eels.”

  “What is civilization?” asked Bridget.

  “Ices,” said Roger, “and all that sort of thing.” He looked hopefully at a cloud of thin blue smoke that, in the windless air, hung lazily above the town.

  “Come on,” said Susan. “We’ll see if they’ve got any. Remember we’ve got to get back before the tide comes in again. Finish the sandwiches on the march. Catch that kitten. Puss! Puss! Come on Sinbad. We’ll get you a lick of cream.”

  CHAPTER XXIV

  CIVILIZATION

  AFTER WALKING FOR half a mile along the lane without meeting even a cart, they came out into the busy traffic of a main road. They stopped at the corner just long enough for John to do a little compass work. The lane ran due north and south, the main road a little south of east. Daddy’s map showed where the town was, down in the right hand corner, so John and Titty were able to pencil in both lane and road and to get them very nearly right. They went on, Bridget doing her best, and the others keeping pace with her. It was a longer walk than they had expected; sea-boots made hard work of it on the tarred road; and motor cars, roaring past, made them feel that even Bridget’s best was very slow. Still, if you want to get anywhere you have only to keep moving, and presently fields and thatched cottages came to an end, there were houses on both sides of the road and they found themselves in the outskirts of a little seaside town.

  Quite suddenly they felt that they were indeed explorers from the wilds visiting for a moment the haunts of the sedate and stay-at-home. The pavements were crowded with people dressed for a seaside holiday. Some of the younger ones carried spades and buckets. Others had model boats. Others had shrimping nets and fishing rods. Some were in bathing things, and were very sunburnt in the arms and legs, others were evidently newcomers, proper palefaces, with their skins a dismal white. But not one of them had a spot of mud. Sand? Yes. More than once they saw someone slip off a shoe and pour the sand out of it. But no mud, none at all. And the explorers, who had splashed across the Wade, were spotted with mud all over and were suddenly conscious of their muddy seaboots. They strode sturdily on. What did it matter if these people did stare, these people with their buckets and toy boats? What did these people know of the real thing, of islands unexplored, of savages who that very night would be dancing in corroboree?

  John stopped a postman and asked him the way to the Yacht Club and was told to turn left in the middle of the town.

  They hurried on, looking for the signboard the postman had said they would see.

  “Keep a look-out for a shop where it says you can telephone,” said Susan.

  They were near the middle of the town before Roger pointed to a blue and white notice hung outside a grocer’s shop. It said, “You may telephone from here.”

  “We’ll telephone to Mother right away,” said Susan. “And we can do our shopping at the same time.”

  John pointed to a clock hanging out over the street. “Gosh,” he said. “Just look at that. Nearly two o’clock. The Mastodon said the Wade’s dry for about four hours. The tide’ll be up to it again by four, and I don’t know how long the man’ll take to mend the rudder. We’ve got to get him started first. We’ll telephone while he’s doing it.”

  They hurried on, saw at a street corner a signboard pointing “To the Yacht Club,” turned down that street, passed a pond where people were sailing toy-boats, found the Yacht Club, and two minutes later were talking to the boatbuilder.

  “And when do you want it?” said the boat-builder, looking at the rudder and fingering the bent pintle and the twisted screws that held it to the wood. “Day after tomorrow do you?”

  There was a moment of horror. “We wanted to take it back with us,” said John. “And we’ve got to get across the Wade to the island.”

  The man looked at an enormous watch. “I’ve another job on hand,” he said, “and my man’s away. …”

  “I’ll help,” said John. “If you think I’d be any good.”

  The man laughed and looked at his watch again. “We’ll do the best we can,” he said. “What time was it when you came across? You won’t have much time to spare.”

  It was arranged that John should stay with the boatbuilder, while Susan and the others went to the telephone.

  Things began to go wrong almost at once.

  To begin with, when they came into the grocer’s shop, he was busy serving a customer, wrapping up parcels and talking about the weather. “Beautiful and warm for the time of year,” he told her. “Hotter than July. Good for the town now, weather like this. Brings the visitors and keeps them happy. A spell of rain would send them all away giving the town a bad name. Dependent on the weather we are here. As I always say, we ought to make the clerk of the weather a member of the town council. Then it would be up to him to do his best for us.”

  It was a long time before Susan caught his eye, and was able to ask the way to the telephone.

  “Straight through that door, Miss,” said the old grocer, and the whole four of them went through the door and found the telephone in the passage.

  Then, as always happens when people are in a particular hurry, there was difficulty in getting the right number. And when at last she had got it, and Miss Powell came to the telephone and Susan asked if she could speak to Mother, the others saw her face change. “Not till three o’clock?” she said. “Don’t let her go out again when she comes. We’ll telephone again.”

  “What’s happened?” said Titty.

  “Daddy and Mummy aren’t going to be at Miss Powell’s till three o’clock. Oh dear. What time did John say we had to be back at the Wade?”

  “Before four,” said Roger. “And the boatbuilder said there wouldn’t be much time to spare.”

  “Well, we’d better get the shopping done anyway,” said Susan, “and then we’ll go back to the boatbuilder’s.”

  They left the telephone and went into the shop. Another customer was at the counter. They heard the old grocer talking. “Rain would send them all away giving the town a bad name. Dependent on the weather we are here. As I always say, we ought to make the clerk of the weather a member of the town council. …”

  “I say,” whispered Roger. “He’s saying all the same things.”

  “But it’s a different customer,” whispered Titty.

  Susan did her shopping, in a very worried manner. She had never made her list of the things she wanted and she was bothered at not finding Mother at the other end of the telephone. She bought a lot of cream buns of the kind Daisy had thought would do for fattening the human sacrifice. She bought a packet of cornflakes, a pound of lump sugar and a pound of soft sugar. She bought a tin of milk for Sinbad. She bought a tin of cocoa complete with milk (“It’ll only want hot water and it’ll be just the thing to have after the feast tonight”). She bought a fresh supply of chocolate and several other things, and the old grocer wrapped them up in separate parcels and began to talk.

  “Beautiful and warm for the time of year, Miss … Dependent on the weather we are here. As I always say …”

  Susan, out of the corner of her eye, saw Roger bolt out of the shop.

  “What’s the matter with Roger?” she said.

  “I’ll go
and see,” said Titty hurriedly and followed Roger.

  It was very odd that once safely outside the shop they no longer felt that they must laugh out loud or die.

  Susan, with all the parcels dumped in her knapsack, came out of the shop with Bridget. They went back to the boatbuilder’s and found he had already taken all the metal work off the rudder.

  “John,” said Susan. “Daddy and Mother aren’t there. They won’t be there till three o’clock. We’ll have to telephone again. How much time are we going to have?”

  “Not much,” said John. “We’ll probably have to run like hares. You know what telephoning is.”

  Susan looked at Bridget, who was carrying Sinbad’s basket.

  “We can’t really do any running,” she said. “You’ll have to telephone and catch us up.”

  “There may not be time after the rudder’s done,” said John.

  “Well, somebody must telephone,” said Susan. “Mother’ll be awfully disappointed if Miss Powell tells her we’ve been here and she doesn’t have a word with any of us.”

  “Send the able-seamen and the ship’s baby on ahead,” said John. “Then they won’t have to hurry, and we’ll bolt after them and catch them up as soon as we can.”

  “Aren’t we going to telephone too?” said Bridget.

  “You can’t,” said Susan. “You know what it’s like running. Joggling poor old Sinbad. John and I may really have to run for all we’re worth. I’ll tell Mother you couldn’t help it.”

  “They’d better start now,” said John. “Go ahead. Able-seaman Titty in charge. Just get along back. It’s no good risking their having to run all the way at the last minute.”

  “All right,” said Titty. “We’ll take the knapsack too. It’s no bother going slow, but awful if you’re in a hurry.”

  “What about a bit of civilization before we start?” said Roger.

  “Give them an ice apiece and get them going,” said John.

  They had their ices near the Yacht Club and then Susan walked back into the town with them, said “Goodbye” to them under the clock by the grocer’s, and sent them on their way.

  “Starting now, you’ve got lots of time,” she said. “No need to hurry. We’ll probably catch you up before you get across the Wade.”

  *

  “I think they might have let us wait to telephone,” said Bridget, as they left the shops behind them.

  “They couldn’t,” said Titty. “By the time John’s got the rudder and Susan’s been able to telephone they might have to run like anything.”

  “I’m old enough to run too,” said Bridget.

  “Sinbad isn’t,” said Titty. “And you don’t want him to be joggled to death.”

  “If they could have sent Sinbad on alone,” said Roger, “they would. But somebody has to be with him. We’re not sent on because we’re too young. It’s so that we don’t have to hurry with the ship’s kitten.”

  “It isn’t only the ship’s kitten who mustn’t be hurried,” said Titty. “Running makes people thin in no time.”

  “Like Daisy,” said Bridget. “I never thought of that. What about those cream buns she said I ought to eat?”

  “In the knapsack,” said Titty. “We’ll fatten you up a bit when we get near the Red Sea.”

  CHAPTER XXV

  SINBAD’S CREEK

  “NO MORE MOTOR cars and stink of exhaust,” said Roger, as they left the main road and, no longer having to keep to the side for fear of the traffic, strolled comfortably down the middle of the green lane between high hedges that shut out the rest of the world.

  There was a mew from Sinbad’s basket, which, at the moment, Bridget was carrying herself.

  “He wants to get out,” said Bridget.

  “We must get a bit further first,” said Titty. “Then you can let him have a run.”

  “Good for him,” said Bridget. “It isn’t as if he had to be fattened up like me.”

  “Why good for him?” said Roger.

  “I didn’t say ‘Good for him’,” said Bridget. “I said ‘Good for him.’ Ship’s kittens ought to have exercise.”

  “All right,” said Titty. “He shall have a run in a minute.”

  They went on down the green lane, being lucky with blackberries here and there. All was well. No need to hurry now. Even if the others caught them up, they were already close to the Wade. Titty, in charge of the party, looked about for a good place to stop. She knew just what to look for … a place where people could properly make a halt when on the march, a place good to sit down in, a place with a bit of secrecy about it, a place where explorers resting tired limbs would not have suddenly to turn into children and get out of the way of some farm cart or other.

  Roger found it. He had run on ahead to a likely looking bramble thicket. He had picked two really juicy ones for himself, good ones that dropped off as soon as he touched them, not the kind that have to be pulled and are sour even if black, and two more just as good for Bridget. He stopped short, with his mouth already open to call to her. Behind the brambles was the opening into a footpath, a footpath too narrow for carts, but with a hedge on each side of it.

  “Roger’s disappeared,” said Bridget.

  “Ahoy, Roger!” called Titty.

  “Ahoy!” The voice came from behind the thicket.

  “Ahoy! Come on. Here’s a good place for a halt. Come on. There’s even a tree to sit on.”

  “Don’t go and get scratched, Bridgie,” said Titty. “Do take care. We don’t want any more blood, and Susan isn’t here with the iodine.”

  “I’ve only torn my dress a little,” said Bridget. “Come on, Titty. It’s a lovely place.”

  Titty worked her way through the brambles, had one look, and went back into the lane. “It’ll do all right,” she said. “Half a minute while I lay a patteran, so that the others’ll know where we are.” She took a long stick and a short one, and laid them on the ground, one across the other in the middle of the lane, with the long stick pointing towards the blackberry bush. She went back into the footpath, twisted out of the straps of the knapsack and began burrowing into it. “Oh Gosh!” she said. “The bag with those buns must be right at the bottom. They’ll all be squashed.”

  “Better eat them,” said Roger. “It’s a good long time since we had dinner. And it was only sandwiches.”

  “Anyway, here’s a tin of milk for Sinbad.”

  “Can’t I let him out now?” said Bridget.

  “All right if you’re sure you can catch him again.”

  “He always lets me catch him,” said Bridget. “He likes to be caught. Come on Sinbad. You’re going to have some milk. Where’s his tin? Do spike it, Roger.”

  Sinbad, who had been mewing impatiently, put his head out of the basket the moment it was opened. Then a paw showed, then another. After that there seemed to be no more hurry. He stepped slowly out, and stretched first his front legs, then his hind legs, then his furry back, as if he had never been in a hurry at all.

  Roger drove the spike of his scout knife twice, at opposite sides, into the top of the little tin. He looked round. “What about a saucer?” he said.

  “Shove a bit of chocolate in your mouth,” said Titty. “Here you are. Go and look for a dock leaf for him, and let him lick the milk off that. Bother those buns. I’ll have to unpack everything.”

  Roger went off with a well-stuffed mouth. Titty emptied the knapsack out on the ground. It was as she had feared. Susan must have been very bothered about the telephoning to forget that cream buns had gone in first when she dropped things like sugar, cornflakes, biscuits and chocolate on the top of them. The cream buns were in an awful state. Roger was right. It would be just as well to let him and Bridget eat what they could of them, and see if Sinbad would lick up as much of the cream as they had not been able to scrape off the inside of the paper bag. Gosh! If she’d known they were as badly squashed as this there would have been no need to open that tin of milk. Titty set aside the least damaged of the
buns and let Bridget do her worst with the others. “You’ll jolly well have to get the mess off your face before Susan turns up.”

  Bridget set earnestly to work.

  “Oh look here,” said Titty. “You must keep your hands off Sinbad while you’re eating them. Just look at the mess in his fur.”

  “Sorry, Sinbad,” said Bridget.

  “Hullo!” Roger came into sight.

  “Where’s the dock leaf?” said Bridget.

  “Come along,” said Roger. “There’s a whole lot just round the corner. And there’s a creek. It’s dry, but there are two boats in it, and there’s an old fisherman with another boat upside down on the bank. He’s putting tar on it. I asked him where the creek goes, and he says it goes into the channel by the town. We ought to put it on the map. Come along. You could have a look at it while Sinbad’s hogging.”

  It was the mention of the map that did it. After all, Susan had said they needn’t hurry, and they had come pretty fast from the town, and were quite close to the Red Sea. And if there was a creek here, it was much more important to put it on the map than just to get home early and put the kettle on the fire. And anyway, she had laid a patteran. The others would know where they were. Titty re-packed the knapsack, being careful to put the bag with the more fortunate of the buns on the top instead of at the bottom.

  “Come on, Bridgie,” said Roger. “You bring Sinbad. I’ll take his milk.”

  “And you’ve got to carry those squashed buns somehow,” said Titty.

  “Inside or out?” said Roger.

  “Anyhow you like,” said Titty, “but leave enough for Bridgie.”

  “Daisy said I had to eat them,” said Bridget.

  “Open your mouth,” said Roger, “and I’ll push this one in. You’ll want both hands for Sinbad.”