‘Did you find anything else?’ asked Velma, her eyes as wide and as round as saucers.
‘You mean treasure? Naw, nothing like that, but there might be some hidden away down there and, if I get the chance, I'm going back to have another look. You can come if you like.’
‘I wouldn't dare. I couldn't go down a dark tunnel.’
‘Well, I'm going back. I just have to,’ Dominic told her.
‘But we're off home tomorrow,’ said Velma. ‘There won't be time.’
‘I'll have to find the time,’ said Dominic. ‘It's too good a chance to miss. We could go tonight when everyone's in bed. Michael, Smurph and Gerald could come as well.’
‘You're really brave, Dominic,’ said Velma. ‘I'd be too scared.’
The line of pupils suddenly came to a halt.
‘We are now at Stainthorpe Farm!’ Mr Risley-Newsome announced loudly from the front. ‘Gather round, everyone.’ When the teacher was surrounded by the children, he started another of his monologues. ‘In a moment we will be approaching the clifftop. I do not need to remind you how dangerous it can be.’ He glanced in the direction of Miss Pruitt, as if making a point. ‘Stay well away from the edge and on the designated footpath at all times, no running, dawdling or silly behaviour.’
‘And keep your eyes open, children,’ said Miss Pruitt, ‘and you may see the birds which live and feed on the seashore. Some of them nest and roost in the sheltered cracks and among the rocks. There's the cormorant with its long, hooked beak, the guillemot which lives in a colony, and the great black-backed gull, a large and very strong-winged bird which robs nests.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Mr Risley-Newsome. ‘Now, we will soon be on part of the Cleveland Way, which stretches for over a hundred miles along the coast. We will have extensive views of Robin Hoods Bay, which is very similar to Thundercliff Bay, with its warren of steep streets and passageways, except it is rather more popular with visitors. And before anyone asks again, Robin Hoods Bay had nothing whatsoever to do with the outlaw who supposedly lived in Sherwood Forest.’
‘Some people believe that Robin Hood did in fact stay here when he was evading capture by the Sheriff of Nottingham,’ said Miss Pruitt.
‘Another fanciful tale!’ Mr Risley-Newsome told her. ‘I have looked into this and it is a myth invented by someone with an overactive imagination – something to attract tourists no doubt. No, there is no truth in the story. It's rather like the far-fetched tale told by the vicar about smugglers and secret tunnels.’
If only he knew, thought Dominic smiling. If only he knew…
The children, cold and weary, eventually arrived at Thundercliff Wyke. They were glad of the rest, even if it did mean listening to another lecture from ‘Old Grisly-Gruesome’.
‘Now, if everyone is looking this way,’ the teacher began. ‘On your right you will see the cliffs. Have a look.’ Bored faces looked to the right. ‘On your left you will see the sea. Have a look.’ Bored faces looked to the left. ‘I do not want anyone up the cliffs or in the sea. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ chorused the children.
‘Also, this coast is full of caves and slippery rocks. On your right you will see the caves. Have a look.’ Bored faces looked to the right.
Dominic surveyed the caves with a good deal of interest.
‘Ahead, you will see the rocks. Have a look.’ Bored faces looked ahead. ‘I do not want anyone in the caves or on the rocks. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ chorused the children.
Dominic was still staring intently at the caves.
‘Is that clear, Dowson?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘There is also a great deal of boulder clay on the beach. This is the brown, muddy mounds near the cliff bottom. It has slid down in the heavy rains and is also extremely dangerous. I do not want anyone stuck in the mud, so stay well away from that as well. Walk on the sands, stay off the rocks, keep away from the sea, do not go near the boulder clay and behave yourselves. Is that perfectly clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ chorused the children.
‘Many of you will, no doubt, be wondering what a “wyke” actually is,’ said Mr Risley-Newsome. Actually, it had not crossed anyone's mind. ‘“Wyke” is a Viking word which means a narrow inlet, sheltered by headlands. The huge slabs of rock, which we shall be passing on our walk, show fine examples of ripple marks. These rocks were formed over one hundred and fifty million years ago.’
Fancy that, thought Dominic. He wished he was exploring the tunnel rather than listening to this dreary commentary.
‘These slabs are the remains of a massive river delta which then covered this part of Yorkshire,’ continued Mr Risley-Newsome.
‘And keep your eyes open, children,’ said Miss Pruitt, intent on getting her two-pennyworth in, ‘and you may see some of the more interesting marine creatures which live and feed on the seashore. There are starfish, for example. They sit in the mud, sand and rocky pools and eat mussels, which they pull open with their tube feet. There are, of course, many crabs under the stones and the seaweed. If you come across a crab, look at the end of its shell. It's called a “piecrust”. There are also colourful sea anemones, but don't touch these because they have stinging tentacles. You may see some small fish in the rock pools. If you come across any interesting shells or fossils, pebbles or bits of jet, pop them in your rucksack and we will look at them when we are back at the youth hostel.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Mr Risley-Newsome. ‘But I do not want any of you collecting half the beach or picking up fish heads, dead crabs or slimy seaweed. One or two shells, fossils or pebbles is quite sufficient, and don't dawdle. Now, we have a two-mile walk ahead of us and then a steep climb at the end, so we had better be moving.’ There were sighs and moans from the children. ‘Excuse me!’ snapped the teacher. ‘I do not recall asking for any opinions. We will be walking along the beach, then up the footpath to the clifftop and back to the youth hostel, so let's be making tracks.’
The hike across the beach was much harder than imagined. The fine, wet sand gave easily under the children's feet and made it difficult for them to walk at any speed. They had to negotiate the outcrops of black rocks, draped in dark and slippery seaweed, the rock pools and the long rivulets of muddy water which trickled from the cliffs across the sand and into the sea. And then it began to spit with rain.
They were about halfway across the beach when it happened. There was a high-pitched scream which echoed off the black cliffs. It sounded like a wounded animal caught in a snare.
Mr Risley-Newsome, at the head of the line of pupils, jumped as if he had been poked with a cattle prod. Dominic saw him swivel round and then he caught sight of Nathan Thomas sitting, screaming, on a carpet of seaweed, cradling his foot and squirming in agony. Mr Risley-Newsome rushed back towards him. Miss Pruitt, who was as usual bringing up the rear, rushed forwards. They arrived at the same time and were soon joined by Dominic and the rest of the pupils, who gathered round with inquisitive faces.
‘Ooooooh! Ooooooh! Aaaaaaah! Aaaaaaah!’ moaned Nathan. ‘My foot! My foot!’
‘Whatever have you done?’ asked Miss Pruitt, bending over the writhing boy.
His moans turned into a direful howl.
‘Do stop that dreadful caterwauling at once!’ ordered Mr Risley-Newsome, reaching down to inspect the injured foot.
‘Ooooooh! Ooooooh! Aaaaaaah! Aaaaaaah!’ Nathan continued. ‘My foot! My foot!’
‘How did you manage to do that?’ demanded Mr Risley-Newsome angrily.
‘I-I-I… s-s-s-slipped on the r-r-r-r-rock, s-s-s-sir,’ stuttered the boy, ‘and my f-f-f-f-foot w-w-w-w-went down a c-c-c-crack!’
‘Sir, he might have broken his ankle,’ volunteered Sean.
‘Excuse me?’
‘He might have broken his ankle,’ repeated the boy.
‘Did I ask for an opinion?’ enquired the teacher testily.
‘No, sir,’ replied the boy.
‘We
ll, kindly keep your clever comments to yourself.’ He turned back to the wriggling pupil on the seaweed.
Miss Pruitt gently moved Nathan's foot backwards and forwards.
He winced and sniffed and bit his bottom lip. ‘Ooooooh! Ooooooh! It hurts, Miss. It really, really hurts.’
‘Well, I don't think it's broken,’ she told Mr Risley-Newsome. ‘Just a bad sprain, I think.’
‘Ooooooh! Ooooooh! Aaaaaaah! Aaaaaaah!’ moaned Nathan.
‘Will you desist from making that noise?’ snapped Mr Risley-Newsome. ‘It will not help matters, you screeching like a strangled cat.’
‘Mr Risley-Newsome,’ said Miss Pruitt quietly, ‘might I deal with this? The boy is clearly very distressed and in some pain. Now, Nathan, do you think you can walk?’
‘N-n-n-n-no, miss,’ he blurted out, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his anorak. ‘It really, really hurts.’
‘You won't know whether you can walk or not,’ observed Mr Risley-Newsome, ‘until you try. Get up and put some weight on your foot.’
‘I c-c-c-can't, s-s-sir,’ moaned Nathan.
‘Do you want us to leave you on the beach?’ barked the teacher.
‘N-n-n-no, sir,’ wailed Nathan.
‘Then I suggest you get up and try and walk.’
So, Nathan, with the help of several pupils, struggled to his feet and attempted to stand, but he soon dropped back down on to the seaweed with a squelch. ‘I can't! I can't! It hurts too much!’ he howled pathetically.
‘Well, here's a pretty kettle of fish,’ announced Mr Risley-Newsome irritably. ‘After all I have said about keeping off the rocks. You are a silly and disobedient boy, Nathan Thomas.’
‘Mr Risley-Newsome,’ said Miss Pruitt quietly, ‘I am sure that Nathan did not deliberately sprain his ankle. These things do happen. Now, I have asked if I might deal with this. It does not help us all, getting into a state. It is a sprained ankle, nothing more.’ Miss Pruitt looked at the wet, shivering children, then up at the ragged grey clouds and out to the cold grey ocean. She felt the chilly, salty wind in her face. The weather looked distinctly ominous. ‘I think we should continue. It is getting cold and we still have a mile or so to go. Dominic, will you and Michael help Nathan? Let him put his weight on you.’
‘I can't walk on my foot, miss,’ wailed Nathan. ‘I just can't.’
‘Now, look, Nathan,’ said Miss Pruitt gently, putting an arm round his shoulder and giving him a warm, motherly smile, ‘we really do need to get you off the beach, out of the cold and wet and back to the youth hostel. You understand that, don't you?’ The boy nodded. ‘It's not that far and if we go slowly and carefully and you lean on Dominic and Michael, we will soon be back home.’
‘I'll try, miss,’ sniffed the boy, ‘but it really does hurt.’
‘I'm sure it does, Nathan,’ Miss Pruitt told him, squeezing his arm reassuringly. ‘It's a nasty sprain. You be a brave boy. Now, come along, let's get moving, shall we?’
With an excruciating expression on his face, Nathan struggled to his feet and wrapped his arms round his two supporters. ‘Ooooooh! Ooooooh! Aaaaaaah! Aaaaaaah!’ he moaned. ‘It's like my foot's coming off.’
‘Good,’ said Velma under her breath.
‘Serves him right,’ added Gerald.
‘It couldn't have happened to a nicer person,’ said Sean.
‘Ooooooh! Ooooooh! Aaaaaaah! Aaaaaaah!’ Nathan moaned. ‘My foot really, really hurts.’
As Dominic helped Nathan hop and limp across the beach, he could not help feeling rather pleased. After all, Nathan had done nothing but tease and torment him since the trip had begun. He had never missed an opportunity to make a cruel comment or laugh at Dominic. Nathan had now changed his tune and, to Dominic's ears, it was quite a pleasant one.
‘Chin up, Nathan!’ said Dominic cheerfully. ‘Only a couple of miles to go.’
Fourteen
Stranded!
The journey down the beach was slow, very slow indeed. Mr Risley-Newsome strode ahead angrily, then strode back flustered and fidgety and red in the face. ‘Can't we go any faster?’ he demanded.
‘No, we can't,’ retorted Miss Pruitt. ‘As you can see, the boy's in a lot of pain. He's bruised his knee quite badly and his ankle has swollen up like a balloon. We will just have to carry on slowly but surely until we reach the footpath.’
It sounded to Dominic as if the last sentence was as much to reassure herself that this ordeal would soon be over.
The teacher turned her attention to the injured boy. ‘Just think of a nice mug of hot chocolate back at the youth hostel, Nathan, and one of Miss Brewster's scones. Now, come along, let's put a brave face on it, shall we? We'll soon be home.’
And so the children trudged onwards.
The change in the weather was not entirely unexpected. The cold breeze soon turned into an icy and blustery wind that whipped up the waves and blew the sand into ripples. Then it began to rain in earnest. The ragged clouds opened and a grey curtain of water descended, swirling around the children and teachers and soaking them through.
‘We really do have to get a move on,’ shouted Mr Risley-Newsome, wiping the water from his face before consulting his watch.
‘We are going as fast as we can,’ said Miss Pruitt sharply.
It was clear to Dominic that she had had just about enough of him barking out orders.
‘Perhaps I ought to go on ahead and get help,’ suggested Mr Risley-Newsome in a much quieter and more friendly voice. ‘I'm sure I could make it back to the youth hostel. I could phone for the emergency services from there.’
‘And leave us on the beach?’ asked Miss Pruitt.
‘I think it's the best course of action,’ he told her.
‘Well, I don't,’ she replied firmly. ‘We are not in any imminent danger and by keeping moving we will stay warm. It's best if we all keep together. Perhaps you could take over from the boys.’
‘Excuse me?’ said Mr Risley-Newsome.
‘Take over from the boys,’ repeated Miss Pruitt. ‘They look just about done in. Maybe you could give Nathan a piggyback. We would make much better time.’
‘A piggyback!’ cried her colleague.
‘We really have to get off the beach, out of this weather. I think we can agree on that, and we would make much faster progress, don't you think, if you carried Nathan on your back?’
Reluctantly Mr Risley-Newsome agreed. Dominic and Michael had quite a job stopping themselves from laughing. Puffing and panting like an exhausted carthorse, Mr Risley-Newsome hauled the heavy, moaning burden on to his back and began crawling down the beach like some giant hermit crab.
Miss Pruitt was too preoccupied to see the funny side. Dominic, when he glanced at his teacher, could tell by her expression how worried she was and the smile soon disappeared from his face.
‘Miss, are we going to be all right?’ he asked her.
‘Of course we are,’ she told him, smiling. She didn't sound all that convincing. ‘Could you and Velma do something for me?’
‘Yes, miss.’
‘Run ahead and see how far it is to the path, will you? It can't be far now. Don't go clambering up the cliff. Just run on and see how far we have to go and then run back and tell me. And be careful. We don't want another accident.’
Dominic and Velma ran off, chattering excitedly, kicking sand in every direction like mad donkeys, their faces wet with rain.
‘Where are you two going?’ shouted Mr Risley-Newsome, as they overtook him.
‘Miss Pruitt's asked us to see how much further to the path,’ Dominic yelled back without stopping.
The teacher was too tired to argue. His load, soaking wet and clinging on to him like a limpet, was getting heavier and heavier, and Nathan's non-stop moaning in his ear was becoming unbearable.
‘I don't know how we'll get Nathan up the cliff,’ said Dominic. ‘He's really heavy.’
‘I can't wait to get into a hot bath with lots of soapsuds,’ said Velma, ‘a
nd then sit in front of a big roaring fire with that steaming cup of hot chocolate and one of Miss Brewster's home-made scones.’
‘And me,’ said Dominic.
‘It doesn't look as if you'll get a chance to go back to your secret tunnel,’ she said, beginning to pant.
‘I know,’ said Dominic, puffing and blowing by her side. ‘I'll be so tired when I get back, I'll fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.’
They were so engrossed in conversation that they didn't realize until the very last moment what was ahead of them.
Velma came to a sudden halt. There was no more sand. ‘Where's the beach?’ she gasped.
‘It's gone,’ said Dominic.
In front of them grey floods of water rushed to the shore, covering the sand and crashing against the cliff bottom in a mass of spray and gurgling white foam. Out at sea great green waves curled and arched, moving relentlessly towards them.
‘We can't go any further,’ said Velma, gripping Dominic's arm so tightly it hurt.
‘Oh heck!’ he exclaimed. ‘We're cut off.’
‘We've got a problem, miss,’ spluttered Dominic when they had arrived back at the wet and weary crocodile of children and teachers.
‘What sort of problem?’ demanded Miss Pruitt.
Mr Risley-Newsome, seeing something was amiss, deposited Nathan on a large wet stone with a thud and hurried towards them. ‘What is it? What is it?’ he barked.
‘We're cut off, sir,’ said Velma simply.
‘What do you mean cut off?’ exclaimed the teacher, wiping the water from his face with the flat of his hand.
‘Cut off by the sea,’ said Dominic. ‘We can't go any further. We could see the path leading up the cliffside, but there's no way we can get to it. The tide's come right in.’
‘Oh, my goodness,’ sighed Miss Pruitt.
‘Cut off by the sea?’ repeated Mr Risley-Newsome. ‘We can't be.’
‘We are, sir,’ said Dominic. ‘The tide's coming in really fast. It's covered all the sand, so we can't go any further.’
‘It's not high tide until later in the afternoon,’ mouthed Mr Risley-Newsome. ‘It just cannot have come in.’
Dominic's Discovery Page 11
