‘Sir, that would have been difficult,’ said Nathan. ‘It would mean I'd be one hundred and eleven years old, sir, and you would be –’
‘Excuse me! I do not recall asking for comments.’
‘Perhaps I might say a word,’ said Miss Pruitt, moving to the front.
‘Yes, of course,’ said Mr Risley-Newsome, rather taken aback.
‘A hundred years ago, children,’ said Miss Pruitt, enthusiastically, ‘this would have been a very busy railway line. Steam trains would have been speeding along through the English countryside, billowing clouds of smoke and bursting out of the tunnel mouth ahead of us. Just think of it. Children would be waving from the bridge. You'd have heard the screeching whistle and the sound of the wheels going clickety clack, clickety clack on the track.’
‘Like the sound of my chattering teeth,’ whispered Sean.
‘There would have been elegant ladies and gentlemen,’ continued the teacher, ‘smartly dressed stewards, waiters and guards in their uniforms. When the big steam engine and the glistening carriages pulled into Scarborough, the station master would be on the platform, checking the arrival on his great gold pocket watch. He'd be dressed in a silk hat, black morning coat with a carnation in the button-hole, the ends of his moustache waxed to points, and he would walk up and down the brightly-painted station –’
‘Not like the stations today,’ snorted Mr Risley-Newsome. ‘Noisy, smelly, crowded places covered in litter and the trains are never on time.’
‘And in those days,’ continued Miss Pruitt, ‘the trains had wonderful names: “Prince of Wales”, “Lord St Vincent”, “Coronation Scot”, “Mallard”. What a marvellous sight they must have been.’
Mr Risley-Newsome suppressed a yawn and glanced at his watch ostentatiously. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘shall we continue, Miss Pruitt. We do have another mile to walk along the old track, then a brisk climb. We are rather behind schedule. We should have been here at Brandon Bridge fifteen minutes ago.
The sooner we make a move, the better.’
‘Sir,’ said Velma.
‘Yes, what is it?’ asked Mr Risley-Newsome.
‘Is this Brandon Bridge?’
‘Yes, it is. At least somebody in this party is listening to what I say.’
‘Are we walking through the tunnel, sir, under the bridge?’
‘Yes, we are,’ said Mr Risley-Newsome.
‘Under Brandon Bridge,’ she said nervously.
‘Yes, under Brandon Bridge,’ repeated the teacher impatiently.
Dominic, Gerald, Sean and Michael all looked at each other. They did not need to say anything.
‘There's nothing in there now,’ Miss Pruitt reassured Velma, putting her arm round the girl's shoulder. ‘All the trains have gone long ago.’
‘It is rather dark in the tunnel,’ explained Mr Risley-Newsome, peering ahead of him, ‘but I have an extremely powerful torch which I use when I'm potholing, and if everybody stays together and behaves themselves, we'll soon be through it. Now, it might be rather muddy underfoot in the tunnel, so keep to the sides and stay together.’
‘But, sir,’ persisted Velma, ‘this is Brandon Bridge.’
‘Yes, I have just told you it is Brandon Bridge. Is there something wrong with your hearing?’
‘What about the ghost?’ asked Velma.
‘Ghost!’ snorted Mr Risley-Newsome. ‘What ghost?’
‘Sir, there's a ghost in the tunnel!’
‘Don't be so ridiculous!’ snapped the teacher. ‘Whoever's told you such nonsense?’
‘But, sir, there is a ghost. Miss Brewster told us about it last night when we were helping to wash the dishes. She said there's a ghost in the tunnel.’
‘Stuff and nonsense!’ snapped Mr Risley-Newsome.
‘Sir,’ said Nathan Thomas in a rather uncertain tone of voice, ‘do we have to go through the tunnel? It does look really dark and spooky.’
‘It does look dark,’ said Darren, peering ahead of him, ‘and spooky.’
‘Of course it looks dark, you silly boy. There's no light inside a tunnel. Now, let us press on. There's nothing whatsoever to be afraid of.’ Mr Risley-Newsome looked at Velma. ‘And you, young lady, will you stop putting silly ideas about ghosts and the like into people's heads.’
‘But, sir, Miss Brewster says it's been seen by lots and lots of people. Sir, Miss Brewster says –’
‘Excuse me!’ snapped the teacher. ‘I'm not the slightest bit interested in what Miss Brewster, or anyone else for that matter, has to say. Filling your heads with such nonsense. I'm telling you, there are no such things as ghosts and there is nothing in that tunnel but a rather muddy bit of ground.’
‘Come along, children,’ urged Miss Pruitt. Then she added mischievously, ‘Mr Risley-Newsome will be ahead of us all the time and if there is a ghost I am sure he will be able to deal with it.’ Like everything else, she thought to herself.
Mr Risley-Newsome, with a less determined step, led the way to the entrance of the tunnel. He paused and shone his torch into the darkness. It certainly did look rather sinister, like some great yawning black mouth, and smelt rather unpleasant.
‘I'm not going in there,’ said Gerald determinedly. ‘I'm not going in there whatever he says.’
‘And I'm not,’ said Sean firmly.
‘Nor me,’ added Michael.
‘It's only a story,’ said Dominic, trying to convince himself. ‘There aren't such things as ghosts.’
Mr Risley-Newsome swivelled round. ‘Stop all this idle chatter, you children, and follow me.’
‘But, sir, it might be in the tunnel,’ cried Nathan Thomas.
‘Yeah, it might be in the tunnel,’ echoed Darren.
‘What might be in the tunnel?’ asked Mr Risley-Newsome.
‘Whatever it is that's in the tunnel, sir,’ replied Darren.
Miss Pruitt stepped forward. ‘What exactly did Miss Brewster say was in the tunnel, Velma?’
‘Miss, it's the “Phantom Horseman”, miss,’ explained Velma. ‘It was over a hundred years ago, when the trains were running along this line, that the hunt chased a fox down this embankment. The hounds nearly caught it, but it ran into the tunnel to escape. The first huntsman in a red coat and black hat went in after the fox, miss. He rode into the tunnel.’
‘And?’ asked Miss Pruitt.
‘A train was coming from the other end, miss. The huntsman was never seen alive again, but his ghost gallops up and down the track, looking for the fox. Miss Brewster told us that sometimes the engine drivers see the “Phantom Horseman” in his red coat galloping after a ghostly fox. Hikers and ramblers have also seen him on the embankment, staring down with great luminous eyes and breathing smoke.’
‘I'm not going through that tunnel, miss,’ said Nathan.
‘Neither am I,’ said Darren.
‘Neither am I,’ said several other children.
‘We are all going through that tunnel,’ said Mr Risley-Newsome angrily, ‘and we are going through it this minute. I do not want to hear any more about the phantom huntsman with the luminous eyes. Right, stay close to me.’ With that he strode on ahead. He turned to see a group of static children watching him. ‘Well, come on, look sharpish!’
Mr Risley-Newsome led the way, followed by a nervous group of children who clustered round Miss Pruitt like chicks round a mother hen. The entrance to the tunnel was dark and musty, the walls black with grime and the domed roof white and eerie-looking. All was blackness, save for the wide beam of the teacher's torch which formed a long golden passage of light ahead of them.
‘It's like a tomb,’ whispered Dominic to Sean.
‘Like the tunnel of doom,’ whispered Michael.
‘Like a dark, spooky cellar,’ whispered Velma.
‘It's like creeping into a crypt,’ whispered Gerald.
‘I don't like this,’ whispered Nathan, who was at the back.
‘I don't like it, either,’ whispered Darren.
‘St
op that whispering!’ hissed Mr Risley-Newsome. He sounded less confident now.
‘Sir!’ shouted Dominic. ‘There's something there!’
‘Where?’ everyone chorused.
Mr Risley-Newsome suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. His torch picked out two luminous eyes ahead, glaring at him in the darkness. They were great, round, shining eyes staring from the end of the dark tunnel. A heavy, distant breathing like a winter wind could be heard, and in the light of the torch great clouds of white smoke billowed. The teachers and their pupils froze.
‘It's th-th-th-th-the “Ph-Ph-Ph-Ph-Ph-Phantom H-H-H-H-Horseman”,’ stuttered Nathan.
‘Th-th-th-th-th– “Ph-Ph-Ph-Ph– H-H-H-H-H-Horseman”,’ spluttered Darren.
Their voices echoed down the tunnel.
‘He's coming…’ wailed Nathan.
‘To get us,’ wailed Darren.
Dominic peered into the darkness. There was certainly something there, breathing heavily and staring at them with shining eyes. He felt his heart thumping in his chest. His throat went dry and his breath came in short bursts. I don't believe in ghosts, he told himself. I don't believe in ghosts.
‘It's the “Phantom Horseman”,’ wailed Gerald.
‘He's coming for us,’ moaned Velma.
Mr Risley-Newsome turned to face the children. He saw a mass of shining eyes in the darkness and heard their frightened breathing. ‘I want you all to go back out of the tunnel, slowly and sensibly.’ There was a slight tremble in his voice. ‘No running. No silliness. Just walk slowly back the way we came. Could you lead on, Miss Pruitt?’ He shone the torch ahead of them and saw the children creeping back to the entrance. Behind him he heard the breathing getting closer and closer, and heard the heavy thud of hoofs on the earth echoing through the tunnel. As if walking through a minefield, Mr Risley-Newsome tiptoed after the children.
A minute later he and the children were out in the winter sunlight. Then everyone, in the cold light of day, was chattering and shouting, laughing and jumping.
‘Miss, I saw it!’ shouted Nathan.
‘I saw it too,’ echoed Darren.
‘It had big shining eyes like lamps,’ said Michael.
‘Its face was as white as snow!’ shouted Sean.
‘And it was breathing smoke like a dragon,’ added Dominic, still trembling a little but feeling massively relieved. In the bright light of day, the ghost or whatever it was did not seem very frightening. Ghosts are the creatures of the night, of graveyards and spooky castles.
‘It was really, really horrible,’ shivered Nathan, rubbing his hands together.
‘Horrible,’ said Darren. ‘Really, really horrible.’
‘Move away up the embankment, all of you,’ ordered Mr Risley-Newsome, whose face was the colour of the grey stones of the bridge. ‘Move right away from the track.’
Dominic watched the children clambering excitedly up the bank as Mr Risley-Newsome walked charily to the entrance and peered into the tunnel. They had certainly seen something in there, something with great, glassy, round eyes, a creature which puffed clouds of steam and pounded the earth with heavy hoofs. Suddenly there was a galloping sound. Dominic had never seen anybody move quite as quickly as Mr Risley-Newsome that morning. He shot down the track as fast as a rabbit with its tail on fire.
‘Back! Get back!’ he shouted as he scrambled up the embankment, dropping his torch and losing his woolly hat in the process.
Something emerged from the tunnel.
‘Look! Look!’ shouted Dominic from the bank.
The children stared at the entrance to the tunnel as the creature came out into the light. It was a big black-and-white cow which stopped suddenly, stared around with gentle brown eyes and breathed clouds of steamy breath in the cold air. Everyone cheered and a broad smile crossed the lips of Miss Pruitt.
‘There's your “Phantom Horseman”!’ she laughed. ‘A cow, just an ordinary cow, sheltering in the tunnel for warmth. I'll give you “Phantom Horseman”, Velma.’
Mr Risley-Newsome did not find it in the least bit amusing and scowled angrily.
As the animal ambled away in search of grass, another creature crept from the tunnel: a fox, the colour of the russet-red bracken that lined the old track. It stopped when it caught sight of Dominic staring down, then stood proudly for a moment, framed by the arc of the tunnel entrance. Before the creature scampered up the bank and disappeared into the brambles and bushes, Dominic could have sworn he saw a suggestion of a smile on its face.
‘Did you see that?’ Dominic asked Gerald.
‘What?’
‘The fox.’
Gerald sighed. ‘You and your stories,’ he said.
‘There was a fox, there really was. It came out of the tunnel.’
‘You're a great storyteller, Dominic,’ said his friend.
‘Come along, children.’ It was Miss Pruitt's cheerful voice. ‘Let's get moving. On to the track and wait for Mr Risley-Newsome to lead us through the tunnel.’
‘I think, after all, Miss Pruitt, we will go back by the old footpath instead,’ announced Mr Risley-Newsome, obviously still quite shaken.
It is interesting, Dominic thought to himself as he sat on the bank, that ‘Old Grisly-Gruesome’ is not quite the expert he imagines himself to be and he does not seem quite as bursting with confidence as he did at the start of the walk.
Ten
Grounded!
Next morning there was a real buzz in the air. The topic of conversation at breakfast was, of course, the ‘Phantom Horseman’.
‘I don't think I've ever been as frightened,’ Gerald told Dominic and his friends. ‘What with that spooky story the night before and then when we actually went into the tunnel, I could hear my heart beating, I was so scared.’
‘Do you reckon there really is a “Phantom Horseman”?’ asked Michael.
‘Well, I wouldn't go through that tunnel,’ said Sean. ‘No way! I've never seen a ghost, but my Auntie Kath who lives in Ireland, she's heard one. It's called a banshee and when somebody's going to die it moan, and groans and howls.’
‘Could have just been the wind,’ said Gerald. ‘Anyway, can we change the subject? When I heard the hoofs and saw the smoky breath and those great luminous eyes, my heart was in my boots.’
‘And speaking of boots,’ said Michael, ‘I think you've got away with it, Dom. “Old Grisly-Gruesome” never noticed your trainers.’
‘He was too scared of the “Phantom Horseman”,’ said Dominic. ‘Did you see his face when he came out of the tunnel? I wish I'd had a camera.’
‘And when he was clomping down the track,’ added Sean, ‘in those great big boots…’
‘Dropping his extremely powerful torch which he uses when he's potholing…’ said Michael.
‘And that daft woolly hat,’ laughed Gerald.
‘What are you laughing at, “Ginger-Nut”?’ asked Nathan Thomas, who was listening in to the conversation.
‘I don't like to be called “Ginger-Nut”,’ replied Gerald.
‘Oooo, he doesn't like to be called “Ginger-Nut”,’ said Nathan in a silly voice.
‘Well, we're calling you “Ginger-Nut”, aren't we, Nath?’ said Darren.
‘Yeah, we are.’
‘So, what are you laughing at, “Ginger-Nut”?’ asked Nathan again.
‘You've changed your tune this morning, Nathan,’ said Dominic, coming to his friend's rescue. ‘“It's th-th-th-th-the ‘Ph-Ph-Ph-Ph-Ph-Phantom H-H-H-H-Horseman’”.’
‘I wasn't scared,’ said Nathan, blustering. ‘I was just cold.’
‘I wasn't scared, either,’ echoed Darren.
‘You didn't sound it,’ said Dominic. ‘You two nearly wet yourselves, you were so terrified.’
‘No, we didn't!’ cried Nathan.
‘We weren't scared at all,’ said Darren. ‘Not of any old bull.’
‘It was a cow,’ sighed Nathan. ‘It wasn't a bull, it was a cow.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ s
aid Darren. ‘Well, we weren't afraid of any old cow, either.’
Further discussion halted when Mr Risley-Newsome rose to speak. ‘May I have your attention?’ he said. He waited until the dining room was quiet and the pupils were looking his way. ‘After the breakfast things have been cleared away, washed, dried and stacked, I want you all to assemble outside the youth hostel for today's walk. Make sure you are appropriately equipped with anorak, jumper, waterproofs, gloves, scarves and, of course, your clipboard, worksheets and sharp pencil. On today's excursion we will be walking along the clifftop from Whitby to Saltwick Bay. It's a more strenuous walk than yesterday's and quite a bit longer.’ There was a great sigh from the children. ‘Excuse me!’ snapped the teacher. When silence returned, he continued. ‘In Whitby we will see the Tuscan-style town hall which dates from the eighteenth century and some interesting shops along Church Street.’
‘There's a very good bookshop on Church Street,’ added Miss Pruitt. ‘We may have time to have a browse and buy a book or postcard, so bring some money.’
‘I don't think we have time to visit any shops, Miss Pruitt,’ said Mr Risley-Newsome. ‘Our schedule is very tight. We will, however, have the opportunity, provided a service is not taking place, to call in at the parish church of St Mary which has a magnificent tiered pulpit with ear trumpets and box pews and a fine Norman chancel arch. This is a much finer example of architecture than we saw in the church we visited on the first day. Nearby is the towering ruin of Whitby Abbey, built nearly nine hundred years ago, and famous for St Hilda. More about St Hilda later.’
Dominic noticed Miss Pruitt, sitting staring at the ceiling. She looked fed-up. It must be truly dreadful for her, Dominic thought, to have to put up with ‘Old Grisly-Gruesome’, always taking charge, ordering her about and disagreeing with her all the time. How lucky he was to have Miss Pruitt for a teacher and not him.
‘The town is also famous for Captain James Cook,’ continued Mr Risley-Newsome. ‘Captain Cook was born near Whitby, in a village called Great Ayton –’
‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Gerald, waving his hand in the air.
Dominic's Discovery Page 8
