Great Northern?

by Arthur Ransome

  He crept on. He was in the middle of the island now. Some of the rocks were already behind him, those walruses. The ones that mattered were close in front. This big one must be the rock that, when looking from the shore of the loch, he had thought would make a background to his hide. The other two must be just beyond it. He could see the tops of them, and, yes, there was a dark space between them. Crouched in there, he would be about a dozen feet from the nest on the flat grassy shore between the rocks and the water.

  Only another yard. And then, at the very worst moment, Dick stubbed his toe against a stone. He did not notice the pain. That was nothing. He was wearing sandshoes and the blow of his toe against the stone had made no noise. But, by bad luck, the stone he had kicked against had been almost touching another. There had been a click of stone on stone, and that small noise had been enough and more than enough. Something was moving on the shore beyond the rocks. There was a splash. One of the Divers had flopped to the water’s edge and launched itself. Dick, clenching his teeth, listened for a second splash … for the beating of wings on water as the bird rose … for the wild “Hoo … Hoo …” that would tell everyone within hearing that the Divers were awake. He waited, listening for sounds that never came. There was no noise at all but the gentle ripple on the shore.

  At last Dick moved again. Waiting was useless, now that one of the birds was gone. The other must know that he was there, and, peering into the dusk, Dick thought that he could see it, a dark lump on the shore just where he knew the nest must be. Sitting on the eggs, probably, and listening, listening, just as he was listening himself. The best he could do now was to be gone as soon as possible. But, somehow or other, he had to get that net in place.

  He wished he could have used a torch. He wished there was more light in the sky. He was afraid there was too much. But if there had been less he could have done nothing. He had been right about those rocks. There was room to squeeze between the bigger rock and the two that were nearer to the nest. Between those two there was room for him to crouch. He fumbled at the knot that held the bundle of netting. He untied it. His fingers shook. He clenched his teeth so that they could not chatter, but could feel his heart beating so that he wondered the bird did not hear it. Speed. Speed. What he had to do had to be done fast. Nothing would stop the rustle of the scraps of heather on the net. He unrolled the bundle and, after a desperate moment when the netting caught on a point of rock, he spread it over the two grey lumps that were to be the walls of his hide. And still that dark lump on the shore did not stir.

  The thought came into his mind that perhaps the eggs were very near hatching. He remembered a tawny owl, nesting in the roots of a tree. It had never stirred till he was within a couple of yards of it, in broad daylight, and only two days later, he had visited it again and seen the owl’s two chicks, all wool except for gaping beaks. Speed. Speed. Good thing they had made the net so big. It came down to the ground on both sides of the two rocks and hung, just as he had planned, across the opening on the side nearest to the nest. He felt for a stone, found one ready to his hand, and put it on the netting to anchor it. Another, and another. He slipped round to do the same on the other side. More stones. He found them. One, as he placed it, clicked against the rock. He thought he saw the bird move. “Just going. Just going,” he whispered to himself.

  In the dim light he had a last look over the hide. There was nothing more that he could do. Only daylight would show whether the hide would work or not. Listening for a splash that never came, he crept back through the rocks to the reedy end of the island.

  There was John, standing in the water, holding the dinghy ready for him.

  “Well?” whispered John.

  “One bird went,” whispered Dick, “but I don’t think the other left the nest.”

  “Well done, Professor,” whispered John. “Look here. When you come to take the photographs, I’ve found the place for you to push the boat into the reeds. Shove her in here, well in, and she’ll be hidden from both sides of the lake.”

  “I ought to stop here now to save coming back again in daylight,” said Dick.

  “You can’t.”

  “I know. I haven’t got the camera here. And perhaps if I did stop it would bother them more. Let’s get away quick.”

  “What about the hide?”

  “I think it’s all right. I say. Row up the lake a bit before going for the shore. Don’t let’s go near their end of the island. One of them’s in the water, swimming, and we’d better keep as far away as we can.”

  SO FAR, SO GOOD …

  John rowed quietly from the island until, not far ahead of them, the duck, that had been silent for some time, startled them both by sudden quacking. Then he pulled towards the shore, turned and rowed back in the shelter of the shelving bank. Dick, listening, heard no sound from the Divers. Peering towards the island in the dim light he could see nothing moving on the rippled water.

  “Well, it’s done anyhow,” he said, “even if I can’t take the pictures.”

  “Why shouldn’t you take them?”

  “I can’t if the egg-collector’s watching. And it would be just as bad if those other people saw. They’d sell him the eggs if he offered to buy them. They’d never know how important it was.”

  “Nancy’s got a plan,” said John.

  They came to the big reed-beds at the foot of the loch, found the place where they had hidden the boat in the morning and took her in there again, poling her through the reeds. Then Dick, like John, took off shoes and stockings and, leaving the folding boat in the reeds, they tied the painter to a stone which they dropped in the water a few feet from the shore.

  “We’ll find that easily,” said John. “Just opposite this place where the bank’s fallen in.”

  “I’ve got to do it by myself tomorrow,” said Dick. “There isn’t room for two in the hide, and two of us moving about on the way there would be more likely to frighten them.”

  “And to be seen,” said John. “Yes. I’d forgotten that. Well, buck up with those shoes. Nancy’ll be thinking we’ve sunk the folder.”

  Walking back in the night Dick with every step grew more and more cheerful. Everything that could be done had been done. Best of all, he was nearly certain that one of the birds had never left the nest. In the morning the rocks would look a bit heathery, but he did not think any bird would mind that. And John had sounded so sure that Nancy had a plan that would work that Dick himself began to think that after all he would be able to get the proof of his discovery without giving Mr Jemmerling a chance of taking the eggs. Nancy’s plans always did work, even if sometimes they meant that a lot of other people had to work too. Everything was going to be all right.

  It was darker than it had been, but the distance seemed shorter and soon they were coming down past waterfall and rapids to the mouth of the stream and could see the Sea Bear at anchor with a light glimmering in the rigging.

  “Great Guillemots!” said a quiet voice from across the stream, “you people walk like elephants. No need for an owl-call to let me know you were coming.”

  “We were a lot quieter on the island,” said Dick.

  “What’s the Dactyl doing?” asked John.

  “Gone to bed,” said Nancy. “Their last light went out ten minutes ago. And their dinghy’s still aboard. They’re not trying anything till tomorrow. What about the hide?”

  “It’s done,” said Dick. “And one of the birds didn’t stir.”

  They launched the dinghy and paddled it across for Nancy.

  “Have you got a spare pair of spectacles?” said Nancy suddenly to Dick.

  “I ought to have,” said Dick. “But I went and left them behind. Why?”

  “Part of our plan,” said Nancy. “Never mind. I’ll think of another way.”

  “Whatever do you want them for?” said John.

  There was a quiet chuckle in the dusk, but Nancy gave no other answer just then, and they were presently alongside the Sea Bear.

  �
�Well?”

  “What happened?”

  “Have you done it?”

  “No noises. We’ve been listening all the time but never heard anything.”

  Anxious voices greeted them from the deck.

  “Dactyl’s never even come on deck,” said Nancy. “He had a light in the deckhouse at first and lights in the port-holes, but they’ve all gone out.”

  “I saw them go out,” said Peggy. “I was up at the cross-trees, but it was no use staying up there after that.”

  “What about the hide?” asked Dorothea.

  “I think it’s all right,” said Dick.

  “And the birds?” asked Titty.

  “One went into the water,” said Dick, “but it didn’t get up and it didn’t screech. I was awfully afraid it would. I’m pretty certain the other never left the nest.”

  “Did you see the eggs?” asked Captain Flint.

  “I couldn’t have seen them without frightening the bird away. I didn’t even try.”

  “Netting big enough?”

  “Just right.”

  “So everything’s ready for tomorrow? No more waiting?” said Captain Flint.

  “Look here,” said Nancy. “We haven’t wasted a minute so far. Dick’s got his hide and John and I have got a gorgeous plan. The Dactyl’s not going to have a chance. Nor are the Gaels. Our plan’s going to keep everybody off. There are lots of us. Eight, not counting you. No. Seven, because Dick’ll be taking photographs. Well, seven red herrings ought to be enough.”

  “Red herrings?” Almost everybody spoke at once.

  “I’ll explain,” said Nancy.

  “Down below,” said Susan. “There’s a kettle boiling. Cocoa all round and then bed. What time have we got to get up?”

  In the cabin, over steaming mugs, the red herrings worked out the plans that were to mislead Gaels and egg-collector alike and leave Dick free to take his pictures without a single enemy to see him. Only Dick and Roger said nothing at all. Dick because he was thinking out every detail of the photographing, Roger because he had a plan of his own. He had not forgiven that stranger who had watched the sleeping sentinel.

  At midnight all was peace. The Sea Bear swung gently to her anchor with a glimmering light above her deserted deck. The two great birds slept on their island and had forgotten the noises that had worried them. Mr Jemmerling turned in his bunk aboard the Pterodactyl, thinking of a huge glass case with two stuffed birds in it and the eggs that would be the crowning glory of the Jemmerling Collection. In the grey house over the top of the ridge, Ian, the young Highlander, slept without a dream. Old Angus and he, climbing home again in the dusk, had, like the crew of the Sea Bear, made their own plans for the morrow.

  CHAPTER XIX

  A CLEAR COAST FOR DICK

  NANCY, WHO HAD slept with the alarm clock under her pillow, had lit a Primus stove in the fo’c’sle before waking the cooks to do their duty. She had meant to wake only Susan, but Peggy had heard her too, and now John was looking in at them from the cabin.

  “Skipper’s still asleep,” he said.

  “Don’t wake him,” whispered Nancy. “And look out for Roger.”

  Roger, sleeping in the fo’c’sle, had turned in his bunk, but Susan had hung a spare sail to keep the light from his eyes and he had not moved again.

  “Don’t wake anybody except Dick,” said Susan, with a finger to her lips.

  “No hurry for anybody else,” whispered Peggy. “The longer Titty and Dot sleep the better.”

  Everything was going well. All plans had been made the night before. Now they had to be carried out and, first of all, the Ship’s Naturalist had to be hurried away to the loch and into his hide before the world was stirring. With the Pterodactyl in the next creek and hostile Gaels ashore, the taking of those photographs without being seen was not going to be easy. Nancy’s first idea had been to send Dick off alone before it was really light, but that meant risks of other kinds. Better for him to go as soon as he could see what he was doing and as soon as it was light enough for scouts, Nancy herself and John, to signal to him from a distance if it was safe or not to take the folding boat out of the reeds and row to the island. That would be the first of the dangerous moments. The other, no less dangerous, would be later in the day when, with the photographs taken, he would have to leave the island and bring the boat back. A boat, moving on a loch, is something that can be seen for miles, but by that time it ought to be possible to have every enemy, ashore or afloat, either far away or looking in the wrong direction.

  Dick had to be sent off with breakfast inside him and with food in his knapsack to eat during his wait in the hide. It would be a long wait before the sun would be right for photographing and the red herrings had decoyed all enemies to a safe distance. Oatmeal had been put to soak the night before and Susan was stirring the porridge on one Primus stove while a kettle boiled on the other, and Peggy was cutting rounds of bread to make potted meat sandwiches.

  “Porridge ready?” whispered Nancy. “I’ll get Dick.”

  But Dick was already awake. Bare-footed, with his shoes in his hands, he was looking from the cabin into the fo’c’sle.

  “Have I overslept?” he asked anxiously.

  “’Sh!”

  Nancy beckoned. “Come along in,” she whispered. “We don’t want to wake the others yet. Sit down on that coil of rope and tuck in. The sooner we start the better.”

  “I’m ready now,” said Dick.

  “No you aren’t,” said Susan. She gave him a bowl of porridge and a spoon. “Pretty hot, but the milk’ll cool it.”

  “Here’s the milk,” whispered Peggy, stirring some condensed milk into half a jug of water.

  “Aren’t you having breakfast too?” asked Dick.

  “Afterwards,” said Nancy. “We’ve got to get you off first.”

  “Anything else to go in your knapsack?” said Peggy.

  “No.”

  “Got your camera?” asked John.

  “Films?” asked Nancy.

  “Let him eat,” said Susan.

  “Well, he mustn’t forget anything,” said Nancy. “Once he’s on his island there’ll be no coming back for anything left behind.”

  “I got everything ready last night,” said Dick, between mouthfuls.

  “Tea,” said Peggy, putting a mug on the floor beside him.

  Susan was taking the top off a boiled egg. It was a new thing for the Ship’s Naturalist to be the most important member of the crew, but not one of the others could take his place and they were determined to send him off as fit as possible for the work he had to do.

  As for Dick himself his mind was on the Divers. What if, in spite of his care last night, they had been frightened off by the putting up of the hide or, worse, been frightened by it when first they saw it in daylight? Birds did desert their nests sometimes and if these deserted it would be his fault for trying to photograph them. It would be as bad as if he had been an egg-collector. He swallowed his breakfast as fast as he could, refused a second egg, and was ready.

  They did not open the forehatch, for fear of waking Roger. The five of them tip-toed through the cabin and went up on deck. Dick ran his finger along the damp edge of the skylight. There had been a heavy dew.

  “Good,” he said. “It’s going to be a fine day. It wouldn’t be any good without sunshine.”

  “Plenty of things to go wrong without that,” said Nancy. “But nothing will,” she added. “I’d never have thought about the weather. Jolly lucky it’s going to be fine. He’d never wait another day, even to do the Dactyl in the eye.” They all knew she was talking of Captain Flint in a hurry to take the Sea Bear back to her owner.

  They tip-toed gingerly on the wet, slippery deck. John hauled in the dinghy that was lying astern. Careful not to let it bump, he brought it alongside, went down into it and sat on the middle thwart. Dick and Nancy followed.

  “Don’t sit on the wet seats,” Susan whispered.

  Nancy grinned, but cha
nged her mind. Susan was right.

  “Much better not,” she whispered. “You don’t want to start sneezing when you’re in your hide. Sit on your hands.”

  Peggy was waiting to pass down Dick’s knapsack. John took it and laid it behind him in the bows.

  “You’d better go back to bed, you two,” whispered Nancy. “The rest of us won’t be wanted for a bit, once we’ve got him properly planted.”

  Susan dropped the painter into the bows. John pushed off. The dinghy, moved by the tide, drifted clear. He put the oars out and rowed away to the head of the cove, to put Dick and his knapsack ashore on the northern bank of the stream.

  “Off you go, Ship’s Naturalist,” said Nancy. “But don’t take the boat out on the loch until we’ve made sure that all’s clear. We’re going up on Low Ridge so that we can see down on the Dactyl and from there we’ll be able to look across the valley and see if any of the Gaels are moving. We’ll stand where you can’t help seeing us and we’ll be able to see you. We’ll signal if there’s any danger from either side. If you see no signals, you can go ahead.”

  “When you get to the island,” said John, “push the boat well into the reeds where we landed last night. I showed you the place.”

  “Yes,” said Dick.

  “Whatever you do, don’t go and forget that it isn’t only birds you’ve got to hide from.”

  “No.”

  “Off you go and good luck to you.”

  Dick started off. They watched him, knapsack on back, patting his pockets to make sure nothing had been forgotten, as he hurried along at the side of the stream, climbed up by the waterfall and was gone.