They pushed off again, landed at the other side of the stream, and climbed up the rocks until, looking down, they could see the big white motor boat at anchor. Her dinghy was still in its davits.
“Just waiting,” said Nancy. “Like a snake. All ready to come chasing after us if we move. You see, as we can see him from our cross-trees, he can see our topmast from his deck.”
“Probably somebody in that cucumber frame watching all the time,” said John.
“If we sail he’ll think we’ve got the eggs on board and Uncle Jim says he’ll come after us and have another shot at buying them. When he sees we don’t move, he’ll be sure we haven’t got the eggs and all he’s got to do is to watch where we go. He thinks we’ll show him the way to the birds.”
“So we shall if we’re not jolly careful,” said John.
“We’re not going to give him a chance,” said Nancy. “Come on, or Dick’ll be starting before we know it’s safe.”
Keeping just below the skyline they moved along the narrow ridge that divided the inlets, and rose gradually towards the inland hills.
“There’s the loch,” said Nancy. “There’s the place where we left the folder yesterday. Did you put it back in the same place last night?”
“Yes,” said John. “But, I say, it’s not too well hidden from this side. I can see it from here. Perhaps I couldn’t if I didn’t know where it was.”
“Doesn’t matter anyhow,” said Nancy. “It won’t be there as soon as Dick’s taken it off to the island. There he is … just coming to the reeds now.”
John, with the telescope, was looking at the reed-bed far away and wondering if anybody else could have seen that black spot among the reeds that he knew was a folding boat.
“So long as he hides it properly when he’s on the island,” he said.
“Telescope,” said Nancy and, taking it, carefully swept the much higher northern ridge on the other side of the valley and then focused it on the Ship’s Naturalist who had moved along the shore of the loch and, using Captain Flint’s binoculars, was looking across at the two scouts.
“He’s seen us all right,” she said. “Do you think it’s safe for him to start? Nothing moving on that side.”
John went a few feet higher till he could just see over the top.
“Dactyl’s still asleep,” he said. “Anyhow, nobody stirring. The sooner he’s at the island the better.”
“Right,” said Nancy. “I said we wouldn’t signal unless there was danger. Come on. Dick’s watching us. Lie down. If we just sprawl, he’ll know it means he can start.”
The two scouts threw themselves at full length on a flat rock. It was a queer way of signalling, not to signal at all, but a moment after they had lain down they lost sight of Dick.
“Good for Dick,” said Nancy. “He’s understood all right.”
“In the reeds,” said John. “He’s getting her out. There he comes.”
The little folding boat was pushing her dark nose out of the pale reeds.
“Gosh, she is easy to see,” said John.
“No eyes to look,” said Nancy. “He’s out.”
“Pretty bad at rowing her,” said John.
“She’s a bit of a beast,” said Nancy. “Never mind. He’s getting her along.”
“But how,” said John.
The folding boat had left the reeds and was making a very zigzag course of it along the shore towards the island. The surface of the loch, smooth in the windless, early morning, was broken by row upon row of long ripples.
“Gosh!” said John. “Even Roger’d do better than that.”
“Nobody could do much worse,” agreed Nancy, and the two old shellbacks, one-time captains of the Swallow and the Amazon, sat up with impatience as they watched the Ship’s Naturalist glance over his shoulder, pull hard with an oar, glance over his shoulder again and pull hard with the other.
“I wish I knew what time Gaels get up,” said Nancy, after another long search with the telescope. “I can’t see anybody moving.”
“Short strokes,” said John. “Short. Not too hard. Gosh! He’s spun her again!”
“She isn’t like a proper boat,” said Nancy. “He rows all right in a dinghy. But I do hope to goodness nobody spots him and comes howling down the hill to upset everything.”
“He’s doing a bit better now,” said John, some minutes later.
The folding boat was coming near the island. Suddenly a row of white splashes was drawn on the water.
“That’s a bird getting up,” said John. “One of Dick’s?”
“Heuch! Heuch! Heuch!” A harsh, croaking cry of fear or anger sounded across the loch.
“Golly, that’s a bit of bad luck.”
John was already wriggling up to the skyline to look at the Pterodactyl. They had not been the only hearers of that cry. They were just in time to see the door of the deckhouse open, and the egg-collector himself, in pink pyjamas, shoot out and stand, listening, on the deck.
“He doesn’t know where it was,” whispered Nancy, as the pink figure turned first one way and then the other. But if that bird goes and squawks again….”
“It’s sure to,” said John.
They lay there listening, flat to the ground. The egg-collector was listening too. It was almost as if they could see his thoughts, as he moved from one side of the deck to the other and faced now towards them and now to the south. Nancy chuckled in spite of her fears and passed the telescope to John. “He’s like a pink thrush listening for worms,” she said. “Look at the way he holds his head.”
“It was awfully loud, that bird,” said John.
“If he was down below he wouldn’t know where the noise came from,” said Nancy. “But if it does it now….”
At every moment they expected to hear that wild, rough squawk again, that would tell the egg-collector just where he had to look. But a miracle happened. The silence hung over the valley as if for ever, until at last it was broken by the call of a curlew. They saw the egg-collector glance up and then go quickly back into the deckhouse, shutting the door behind him.
“Sick as cats with himself,” said Nancy. “Telling himself that curlew was all he heard and that it wasn’t one of Dick’s birds at all.”
“Hope that’s it,” said John. “But if he did hear it, he knows now that Dick’s birds aren’t far away. Hullo! Dick’s got to the island.”
They watched the boat slipping into the reeds at the far end of the island. She seemed to stick.
“If he leaves her like that,” said John, “we’ll have to start signalling to tell him she’s in full view.”
But a minute later, they saw that the boat was disappearing.
“Let’s have the telescope,” said John.
“Can’t see her at all,” said Nancy, and handed it over.
“He’s done that all right,” said John. “Hullo. There he goes.”
They caught a few glimpses of bits of Dick as he crawled his way through the rocks.
“There’s one thing,” said John. “Nobody’d ever think that hide was anything but a clump of heather. He did that jolly well.”
“Can you see him?” asked Nancy, a minute or two later. “I can’t.”
“Neither can I,” said John.
“Good,” said Nancy. “And that bird’s never squawked again. First job’s done. Ship’s Naturalist’s in his hide. Now for breakfast and then hard work for red herrings.”
They looked across the valley. No one was stirring on that northern ridge. They looked down to the Pterodactyl. No one was on deck. They took a last look at the island on the loch, a little flat island, with rocks towards its nearer end, and among the rocks what looked like a sturdy bush of heather. They hurried down to the mouth of the stream, pushed off in the dinghy and rowed back to the Sea Bear.
Everybody aboard the Sea Bear was now awake and making ready for the business of the day. Dorothea, who had waked to learn that Dick was already on his way to his island, was on deck waiting for them. Captain Flin
t was sitting in the cockpit, shaving, half his face covered by a white beard of lather. As the dinghy pulled alongside, John and Nancy could hear Roger’s voice, protesting about something down below.
“Hullo you,” said Captain Flint, clearing a wide red furrow in the white soap as he leaned forward to look into a shaving-glass propped against the binnacle. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“No need,” said Nancy.
“Is Dick all right?” asked Dorothea.
“On the island and in the hide,” said John.
“Oh, good,” said Dorothea.
“He’s all right for now,” said Nancy. “Nobody about on shore. There was just one bad moment when one of his birds let loose its howl, and the old Dactyl popped out on deck, pink pyjamas, the very pinkest, you know, strawberry ice cream. He’d heard it all right, and was listening for it to howl again, but luckily it didn’t and a curlew came over at the right moment and he bobbed in again thinking he’d made a mistake.”
“Grub!” called Peggy from below.
“Ready for it,” said Nancy. “We haven’t a minute to lose. The sooner the red herrings get going the better.”
IN THE HIDE
Down in the cabin, breakfast was on the table, and Susan was wrapping up the last of eight packets of sandwiches. John and Nancy had to tell again how Dick was on the island and had safely stowed away both himself and his boat.
“Heather’s grown a bit in the night,” said Nancy. “Nothing else to show he’s there, and nobody’d spot that if he didn’t know exactly where to look. And now it’s up to us to see that nobody even thinks of looking.”
Breakfast was quickly over. Sandwiches and lemonade bottles were dropped into knapsacks for easy carrying. Each red herring took its own knapsack, so that, in case of need, they could separate without starving. One packet of sandwiches was left on the cabin table for Captain Flint, who was to stay aboard.
“Everything clear?” said Nancy. “Uncle Jim at the masthead, to keep an eye on the Pterodactyl. He gives three long hoots on the foghorn as soon as Dick’s safely back. The main body of red herrings do just what the explorers did the other day. They’ve got to get stalked again and take the stalkers right up the valley to the hills and keep them going as long as ever they can to give Dick time to get his photographs and bring the folder away from the island. Dick and I go and show ourselves to the Pterodactyl. As soon as the old Dactyl sees Dick, he won’t worry about anything else. He’ll be dead sure to follow Dick, and we’ll take him up the wrong valley where there are lots of lochs and he’ll come chasing after us, gloating to think that Dick’s showing him the way to the birds.”
“But Dick’s on the island,” said Dorothea.
Nancy chuckled. “John’s Dick,” said Nancy. “I was afraid last night he couldn’t be, because of the spectacles, but we’ve thought of a way.”
“Roger’s more Dick’s size,” put in Dorothea.
“I’ve got something else to do,” said Roger.
“Roger can’t cover as much ground as John can,” said Nancy. “The old Dactyl may come chasing after us waving cheques and banknotes, and he mustn’t get near enough to see John isn’t Dick. We may have to leg it pretty hard. Off you go. I’ll put you ashore and bring the dinghy back, while John’s getting ready. Where’s Peggy?”
“Hi!” said Peggy quietly from aloft. “They’re putting the Dactyl’s dinghy over.”
“Buck up and come down,” said Nancy. “We haven’t a minute to lose.”
The main box of red herrings stowed themselves in the dinghy, Susan, Peggy, Dorothea, Titty and Roger. Nancy rowed them quickly ashore at the place where the Sea Bear had been put on legs to be scrubbed.
“Wouldn’t it be better to go up along the stream?” said Peggy.
“Galoot,” said Nancy. “Of course not. You’ve got to go right up to the ridge, just like they did the other day. Titty and Dot’ll be guides. They know where they went.”
“Up past my Pict-house,” said Roger.
“Nowhere near the loch anyhow,” said Nancy. “You’ve got to get your Gaels stalking and keep them stalking for as long as you jolly well can.”
“And when they catch us?” said Peggy.
“Don’t let them,” said Nancy. “But if they do it doesn’t matter so long as you’ve taken them far enough. You haven’t been doing anything wrong. Just grin at them and be polite. Ask them how far you have to go before you can see the Atlantic. And if you can see it already, ask them what it is. Leave the talking to Susan.”
“I wish Captain Flint was coming with us,” said Susan.
“Lots better without him. You can pretend not to understand if they yell at you. Just wave cheery hands and go galloping on. He’d be bound to get into a parley. What you’ve got to do is to keep all your Gaels and stalkers on the move.”
Roger sat in the bows of the dinghy and said nothing. He had only one idea in his head, and that was to get even with the particular stalker who had labelled him a sleeping beauty. If Roger could meet him there would be no thought of parley or anything like it. But the others would not understand that. They hadn’t fallen asleep, as anybody might, and waked up to find that some enemy had been playing round, turning knapsacks inside out and generally gloating.
The moment the red herrings were ashore and climbing towards the Pict-house, Nancy pushed off with an oar and rowed as hard as she could back to the Sea Bear.
Captain Flint was waiting for her.
“Pterodactyl’s dinghy away,” he said.
“Come on,” said Nancy. “If he’s ashore the sooner we show him Dick the better. Where’s John? Hullo! What’s all that hanging up at the cross-trees?”
“Varnish tin,” said Captain Flint. “Hammer, marline spike, scraper and sandpaper. You don’t think I’m going to perch up there with nothing to do. I’m going to take down blocks, clean and varnish, so that if those chaps on the motor boat put a telescope on me they can see I’m busy. Satisfied?”
“Good idea,” said Nancy. “Pity you can’t see the loch from up there, but you’ll be able to see the other red herrings on the far side of the valley except when the Hump’s in the way.”
“If I’d known what a job it was going to be, letting Dick photograph a couple of birds, I’d have let the egg-collector have his eggs.”
“No you wouldn’t,” said Nancy.
“Well, perhaps not, after I’d seen him,” said her uncle. “Get out of the way. Where’s John?”
“John!” called Nancy impatiently. “Great Guillemots!” she exclaimed, as John came up the companion way and looked down into the dinghy with huge black rings for spectacles, done in burnt cork round his eyes with straight black lines going from the rings to his ears.
“It’s the best I could do,” said John, coming down into the dinghy.
“They’re not bad at a distance,” said Captain Flint, after a first astonished laugh.
Five minutes later, John and Nancy were ashore at the mouth of the stream.
“Sure I’d better not come with you?” said Captain Flint.
“And spoil everything?” said Nancy. “No. Somebody’s got to stay, to sound the foghorn and let us all know as soon as the real Dick’s safely back. Three long hoots for that. And two short ones again and again, if you see any of the Dactyls coming over into our valley. I’ve told the others which means which.”
“What if the egg-collector’s there already?”
“He’ll be after us the moment he sees Dick.”
Captain Flint glanced again at John. “I should think he’d run the other way,” he said. “But perhaps not, if you don’t let him come too near.”
“Don’t wait,” said Nancy. “Somebody ought to be up at the masthead now. Come on, John, I mean Dick. We ought to have started long ago. Look out, don’t rub your eyes, or the black’ll be all over your face.”
Captain Flint rowed away and Nancy and the new-made Dick set out to show themselves to the enemy.
CHAPTER XX
“RACE YOU TO the top,” said John, forgetting for the moment that it was his chief business to be Dick.
They had worked along the stream until they were close under the place from which in the early morning they had kept watch while the real Dick rowed the folding boat to the island. They rushed up the slope so suddenly and so fast that the Pterodactyl’s scout had hardly time to get away. They were as startled as he was when a blue-jerseyed sailor scrambled to his feet in the heather and, without a word, bolted down the further side of the ridge towards the shore off which the big motor boat lay at anchor.
“Gosh!” said John. “I wonder how long he’s been here.”
“Not long enough to see anything,” said Nancy. “They hadn’t got their dinghy over till after we got back for breakfast.”
“Funny his bolting,” said John.
“Bad conscience,” said Nancy. “Or terror. It was the same man who tried to get Susan and Peggy to give things away.”
“I say,” said John, remembering that he was Dick, “you don’t think he was near enough to see that my goggles are corked? I was coming uphill, head down, using my hands, and he can’t have had anything like a full-face view.”
“Not he,” said Nancy. “Take care. Don’t look at the Pterodactyl. Pink pyjamas is out on deck looking straight at us. Binoculars too. He’ll see too much if you make it too easy for him. Go on. Quick. Go ahead as if you were in a hurry. Give me an excuse for yelling at you.”
“What for?”
“Gummock!” exclaimed Nancy. “Hurry up. I’m looking at a nest or something. You get along quick. That sailor’s stopping. And the old Dactyl’s staring his eyes out. Just what we wanted. Get along. I want to yell at you and it would be silly if I yelled when you’re close to me. He’d guess I was doing it on purpose. Go on. Dick’s sure to have told him his name when he went aboard. Don’t you see. I’ve got to make sure the old Dactyl knows who you are.”
John, out of the corner of his eye, saw the pink figure of Mr Jemmerling on the deck of the Pterodactyl. He saw the sailor looking across the water to his master as if waiting for orders. Nancy was pushing her nose into a clump of heather. John turned his back on them all and went resolutely off along the side of the ridge as if he had urgent business on hand. He had gone perhaps fifty yards when he heard Nancy hail him.
Great Northern? Page 21
