There were noisy towers all the way down the valley. The tallest ones belched black smoke, the square ones were topped with huge, clanking, winding wheels, and a hideous screech came out of the funnel-shaped ones.
They crossed the tramway ahead of an engine hauling a line of empty coal wagons back up the valley. Humph waved to the driver, and he waved back, before being engulfed in a puff of smoke from the engine’s chimney. They went past rows of houses all coated with soot. Even the plants in their tiny front gardens were covered in grime. Nothing was green here, nothing shiny.
After being in the wilds for so long Joe felt strange being near people and buildings and man-made noise again. Smaller. Francie’s shoulders were hunched up. She felt the same.
“Is this what progress looks like, Beckett?” asked Sal.
Beckett shrugged. “You have to get your power from somewhere, I suppose.” He didn’t look entirely convinced. “Agreed I wouldn’t want to swim in that river—or fish.”
“The air smells horrible,” said Joe. “And it tastes nasty.”
Then Francie stumbled. Joe grabbed her arm to save her from falling. “Sal! Quick!”
Francie’s face was drained of colour and she was swaying on her feet. Beckett scooped her up and carried her to a low wall and made her sit with her head between her knees.
“Don’t try to get up,” Beckett said in a gentle voice.
They passed the water bottle round and had a sandwich, though Francie only managed one mouthful.
“How long until sunset?” Joe asked Sal in a whisper.
Sal squinted up. A yellowish-grey pall covered the sun now. “Can’t be sure, maybe two hours?”
Francie got up and started walking again and they hurried after her. At last they came around a bend in the road and the view opened up in front of them. There was the ocean, and the waves rolling in. Through the haze they could see the smoking chimneys of the town, and the smoke stacks of the steamers approaching the port. The shadows were long but the sun was still more than a hand’s width above the horizon.
When they came to the junction with the coast road a signpost pointed back the way they’d come: Coal Valley 3 and Nowhere Bay 6 to the left, and to the right, New Coalhaven 2.
“Only two to go!” Humph shouted.
But Francie was swaying, a pulse throbbing in her temple.
“The map! We’ve got to finish the map,” said Sal. There was a beer house ahead, with a bench seat outside. Joe and Beckett took an elbow each and steered Francie to sit down. She managed to drink a few sips of water, then Joe unrolled the final map and spread it on the bench next to her. Beckett held down the end to stop it rolling up again and Humph held Francie’s pens and pencils ready. Sal took the scroll out of the altimeter and stood by to check off heights on the map.
But Francie just sat with her eyes closed. She didn’t move.
“We should have brought the rest of the honey,” Joe said in a low voice. He went to see if he could get some from the publican, but there was a notice on the door:
GONE TO WATCH RACE—BACK TOMORROW
There were no more buildings nearby. Which way should they go for help? A cloud of dust was approaching along the road from Nowhere Bay, accompanied by a rumble and a screech of metal on metal that was getting louder. It was a mechanical horse clanking along with Sir Monty on its back. The horse’s paint was scraped and battered and most of its tail and mane were missing. Sir Monty squinted fiercely, teeth clenched around his pipe, and didn’t even seem to notice them as he passed.
The Belgian tracking hound limped along after him, head hanging low, tongue out and panting. Its coat and tail were full of twigs and burrs. Behind it, three of Monty’s men were following on bicycles, pedalling madly. They all looked much thinner, hairier and more ragged than when they’d set off.
“Hey, can you help us?” Joe called, but he might as well have been invisible.
“Change!” shouted the leading cyclist when they were opposite the signpost, and all three dropped their bikes at the side of the road and continued on foot.
“Why on earth?” said Joe. “We should take the bikes if they don’t want them.”
Francie stirred, blinked, saw the map, and nodded. She looked all around and closed her eyes again.
“Come on, Francie,” Sal whispered.
Francie seemed to shake herself awake, then slid to the ground. Joe thought she was fainting, but she pulled herself around to face the bench seat as a desk, and took a pen from Humph. Sal unscrewed the lid of the ink pot. Francie’s hand was steady as she marked the route down Black Valley, and the road to New Coalhaven, and filled in the final heights and landmarks.
The sun was dropping fast; Joe jiggled with impatience and the others stood ready to move as soon as Francie finished. Another cloud of dust came down the road. It was three more of Monty’s men, on foot, looking just as weather-beaten and unkempt as the first lot. They weren’t talking to each other, or carrying anything, they just kept their eyes fixed on the distance and mumbled “left, right, left, right”. They walked straight past the bicycles.
Sal stared at Humph and Joe as if she’d never seen them before. “You know what? We look even worse than those Mountaineers do. Maybe we ought to wash or something, so people can recognise us?”
They looked as though they’d had birds nesting in their hair; every crease and crevice of their skin was filled with dirt, and their clothes were ripped and so filthy they could have stood up on their own.
“My thumb’s clean,” said Humph, taking it out of his mouth to show her.
Sal wet Mrs Baddeley’s sandwich cloth in the horse-trough that stood by the beer house’s hitching rail. She wiped some of the grime off Humph’s face and splashed her own face and neck.
“We still look terrible.”
Joe ducked away as she threatened to wipe him. “No we don’t, we look like we’ve been crossing mountains—and we have been crossing mountains. We look like explorers—and we are explorers. Beckett’s even grown some whiskers on his chin.”
Beckett tried to see his refection in the glass of the beer-house window.
Francie had nearly finished; she was just inking in the coast road. Joe went to try one of the bicycles when a hoarse yelp made him drop it. Three more of Monty’s men were stumbling and limping towards them, Gervais and Monocle-Man among them. They each grabbed a bike, hauled themselves into the saddle and pedalled off slowly after the others.
“Clever,” said Beckett. “Nine men, three bicycles. They all get a turn to ride.”
Joe wondered what had happened to Baldy and the other man, and the rest of the mechanical horses.
Francie capped her pen and sat very still and pale.
Beckett blew on the map to hurry the ink dry then rolled it up with the others and pushed them into the tube. “Let’s gallop.”
The sun wasn’t far above the horizon now. Joe helped Francie to her feet. She tottered for two steps then folded up like Ma’s deck-chair. Humph shrieked and Joe looked around in panic.
“She needs a doctor. A hospital.”
“I’ll carry her,” said Beckett.
He lifted her limp body over his shoulder, held onto her legs and strode off with her head and arms bouncing against his back. Sal piggybacked Humph, Joe carried the roll of maps in one hand and dragged the altimeter with the other and they ran after Beckett.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE END OF THE RACE
The shadows grew longer. They passed one of Monty’s men shuffling along, exhausted. And another. Beckett paused to catch his breath and adjust Francie’s weight, this time carrying her in his arms. Joe checked her breathing.
“Still alive.” He could feel his heart thumping. How would they find a doctor? Was there a hospital in New Coalhaven?
“I can run,” said Humph, and slid off Sal’s back.
The first buildings of the town came into view. A hotel or two; a yard full of machinery; a giant gasometer, a coal-merchant. D
id doctors put signs on their houses? Joe wanted to ask someone, but the place was deserted. Where was everybody?
They passed the rest of Monty’s walking men.
The sun was setting. The sky was glowing orange. None of them had any breath left. They slowed to a limping walk.
And there, in a paddock behind a blacksmith’s workshop, was a huge bustle of people, and smoke, delicious cooking smells and a banner declaring:
THE PEOPLE OF NEW COALHAVEN EXTEND A WARM WELCOME TO ALL EXPLORERS
A man stood under the banner with a pocket watch and a gong. He began to call out: “Ten, nine …”
Lots of voices joined in: “Eight, seven, six, five …”
“Quick!” Sal grabbed Humph’s hand and Joe held on to a bit of Beckett’s shirt and together they ran under the banner as the man shouted, “Two. One!”
A flag fell, the gong rang out and the race was over.
A shout went up, “The kiddies are here!”
“They said you was goners,” said the man with the flag. “Mr Runcible! Mr Runcible! The kiddies are here!”
“Please,” said Joe, “please, we need a doctor.”
He’d been imagining Ma would rush to meet them, but there was no sign of her. He spotted Keith Skinner prowling about in the distance, and Sir Monty who was sitting rigid on his mechanical horse as if he were posing for his portrait. Somewhere nearby Cody Cole’s voice boomed out, saying how much easier the whole race had been than he’d anticipated.
The Santander team was last to finish, but that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was Francie.
The young woman didn’t look old enough to be a doctor, but she promised Joe that she was fully qualified and worked at the New Coalhaven cottage hospital. She listened to Joe’s story while she felt for Francie’s pulse, and looked in her mouth and eyes. Joe didn’t mention the flying but explained about the honey.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” said the doctor. “Go and find the cook, and beg.”
So Joe did, and returned with a small bowl of honey. The doctor stirred some into a cup of hot water and spooned it into Francie’s mouth, while Joe squeezed her fingers and whispered, “We did it, Francie, we’ve finished! No more racing. Wake up now, come on.”
He could sense her coming back towards him from a long way off. Her eyelids fluttered. She drank more of the warm honey.
With Francie declared recovering and not about to die, Sal and Beckett delivered their maps to Mr Molineux, the Regional Railway Manager, in his office, which was really a tent behind the marquee. He took Francie’s maps and drawings from Sal and smiled condescendingly as he showed them out.
“Good show. Well done.”
“But not well done enough,” Sal said sadly when they were out of earshot. “I didn’t want to be last. I really, really didn’t.” Francie being ill, and them coming last, and still no sign of Ma. It was a disaster.
“But at least we all finished, which some of the teams didn’t. That’s impressive.” Beckett put an arm round her shoulder and gave her a hug. “You did a grand job.”
Sal smiled. “So did you. We all did. Though I wish we could just get some dinner and keep walking. There are too many people here.”
“Dinner! Just smell it!”
Someone walked past with a tray of pies, and there were two fires with meat roasting on spits above them. Sal stopped to examine the system of pulleys and chains that turned the spits.
“That’s clever.”
When she saw that Francie was sitting up and drinking a mug of soup in a quiet corner of the marquee, she burst into tears.
“Thank goodness!” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, then she laughed. “I feel like a mountain path. Up and down, up and down. Francie is better and there’s a feast. That’s two ups, but what happens tomorrow? No mother. No money. No tent. We don’t even have a hairbrush.”
They were bustled off to the bath-house that was next to the blacksmith’s shop, girls one way, boys the other. It was wonderful to wallow in a big tank of hot water, and wash their hair, and scrub themselves all over. But the pleasure was rather spoiled when they had to put their filthy clothes back on afterwards.
Beckett was their spokesperson. He was happy to answer everyone’s questions about their adventures, and didn’t seem to mind the bustling and jostling. Sal asked anyone who’d listen: “Is our mother here, yet?” But everyone just shrugged.
And it turned out that no one realised they’d done the whole expedition without an adult. Everyone thought they were looking for Ma because they’d run ahead of her across the line or lost her in the crowd. People exclaimed, “Well I never!” and, “Would you believe it!”
“Wait until they see Francie’s maps,” Sal whispered to Joe. “They’ll treat us seriously, then.”
Each team had its own table at the front of the marquee, near the dais, and the rest of the marquee was crowded with tables for officials and townspeople. The Santander table was nearest the entrance, and next to them grumpy Keith Skinner had a whole table to himself. Beyond, Monty’s Mountaineers traded insults with the Cowboys on the far side. Sal would have liked to tell Cody Cole what she thought of him, but she was too tired.
Joe patted her hand. “One good thing: Monty and Cody Cole both know they’ve lost their money. They bet we wouldn’t make it, but here we are.”
The food was served straight away. There was soup, then meat and baked potatoes, followed by apple pie and chocolate cake. The Santander team ate in hungry silence. The marquee was illuminated by a string of hissing gas lanterns that cast crazy shadows on the canvas walls. Being in a hot, enclosed space with so much clatter and chatter made Sal feel as if the breath was being squeezed out of her. If she’d had any energy left she’d have run outside, back to the mountains, and kept on walking. What must Francie be feeling?
But Francie was ploughing happily through her cake.
Sal nudged her and waved her hand at all the people. “You all right?”
Francie nodded and pulled back her hair to reveal tufts of cotton wool sticking out of her ears.
“The doctor had it in her doctoring bag, so I asked her for some,” said Joe. “Easy.”
“Clever! Why didn’t we think of that before.” Sal propped her head on her hand. She was so tired, and so full.
Francie pushed her plate away, put her head down on her arms and shut her eyes. Sal folded her jersey up.
“Here.” She slipped it under Francie’s head. “We’ll go soon.”
She must have dropped off to sleep herself because she jerked awake to hear a loud woman’s voice introducing herself as Miss Prowdy, the Mayor of New Coalhaven. The marquee had hushed. Miss Prowdy was a tall woman and the feathers in her hat brushed against the roof when she stood up.
“Welcome, everyone, and hearty congratulations to the four teams that have made it here to the finish line through all kinds of adventure. It will take some time for Mr Molineux’s surveyors and engineers to compare the feasibility of the routes, so today we just have to reward the team that was first across the finish line.”
Sal groaned. “So even if our maps are best we won’t know for ages.”
“Now, this is so exciting!” The mayor beamed at them all and put on a pair of spectacles to read from her notes. “The first person to arrive was Mr Keith Skinner, who entered the paddock last night, first by two short minutes!” The audience started to clap and Keith Skinner got to his feet looking very pleased.
But the mayor held up her hand for silence and looked solemn. She read on. “However, it seems that Mr Skinner was alone, and Rule 31 of the race handbook clearly states that a minimum of half the team must cross the finish line in a timely manner. Therefore, I am delighted to announce that Cody Cole and his Cowboys were the first team to finish, and they win five hundred golden guineas!”
The Cowboys cheered and Cody Cole rose and bowed to the crowd. Keith Skinner swore loudly and snatched up his knife and fork. He looked ready to chop the Cowboys into
little pieces.
Cody Cole took the bag of money from Miss Prowdy and waved it at the crowd.
“I wish Ma was here,” said Joe.
“Me too,” said Sal. They’d done so much, and now it was over—and they had nothing to show for it. “What’ll you do now?” she asked Beckett.
He shrugged. “Try for work as a miner, maybe. Or a stoker on a steamship. Earn a passage back home for me and the donkeys.” He cut himself another slice of cake. “I’m not sorry, mind. Not sorry I came at all, even though we didn’t win. It was a grand adventure.”
Sal looked at Francie and Humph sleeping with their heads on the table, and she thought about the Cowboy who had kidnapped Humph, and how Francie had nearly died, and she thought about Beckett shovelling coal so he could return the donkeys to Mr Buckle. How come the adults could cheat and not work as a team and still win? Her face grew hotter, until she felt as if she might burst out of her skin. She jumped up, but she didn’t shout or thump anything. Instead, she went to the door of the marquee, gulped down several big breaths of fresh air, then marched back inside and up to the table where Mr Molineux and Miss Prowdy were drinking coffee.
Her heart was threatening to choke her, but she swallowed hard and smiled politely.
“Excuse me,” she said firmly. “I think there’s something you ought to know.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
H IS FOR HUMPHREY
The Cowboys were making a great racket at their table, drinking beer and whisky and singing a song, the chorus of which went: “We won’t listen to a word you say, there ain’t no one gonna get in our way!”
Joe closed his eyes.
“One moment, please!” Miss Prowdy’s voice forced Joe awake again. A spoon clattered on a plate. “Silence, please. We have just been alerted to a grave accusation.” She cleared her throat. “I have been informed that Cody Cole’s team of Cowboys gained an advantage over the Santander family by kidnapping one of their team members. Can this be true?”
Everyone started shouting. Sal was standing next to the mayor. Cody Cole was on his feet, hands hovering near the revolvers in his holsters.
The Mapmakers' Race Page 16
