Читать книгу Secret Water - Arthur Ransome - Страница 5

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The Goblin was floating well below her usual water line as she left Pin Mill to sail down the river into the unknown. She had never been so laden before. Inside her there was hardly room to move. Stuffed knapsacks, cases of ginger beer, tin boxes and bundles were piled on the cabin floor and in the bunks. Huge rolls of oilskins and ground sheets had been lashed down on the cabin top. A bundle of long bamboos for surveying was made fast on one of the side decks. And beside their gear there were all the members of the expedition, John, Susan, Bridget (on her first sea voyage) and the kitten, Sinbad, were in the cockpit. Titty and Roger were on the foredeck. Down below in the saloon, Commander Walker was ticking things off on a list and telling Mother that everything was really quite all right and that there was nothing about which to worry.

“It isn’t as if there wasn’t Susan,” he said, “and it isn’t as if John had no sense. I say, John. You keep straight down the middle of the river. I’m going to turn the engine on to get us quickly down over the tide.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” said John seriously. He, like Susan, had heard that their father was depending on them.

The engine started chug, chugging beneath them. Roger scrambled aft in a hurry, to be allowed to push the lever forward and put it into gear. The Goblin’s wake lengthened, and the water creamed under the bows of Wizard, the sailing dinghy, towing astern.

In the cockpit, they had to shout to each other to make themselves heard over the noise of the engine, and could no longer hear what was being said by the friendly natives in the cabin. But there was little need for talk while everybody, even John the steersman, was busy with sandwiches and ginger beer.

They passed boats not in a hurry going slowly down under sail alone. They met boats coming up fast with the tide. They were interested in all of them, but the Goblin, they knew, was the only boat that was on her way to maroon a party of explorers on an island. The wooded banks slipped by and were left behind. The river opened into the wide harbour. They looked up the Stour and pointed out to Bridget where they had spent their first night in the Goblin anchored off Shotley pier. They drove down past the dock where (how long ago it seemed!) they had seen Jim Brading row in for petrol before the fog had come down on them like a blanket. Ahead of them once more was the Beach End buoy.

“Listen!” said Titty at the top of her voice.

“I can hear it,” shouted Roger.

“Clang! ... Clang! ... Clang....”

It was very different, hearing the bell buoy now with Mother and Daddy aboard, and bright sunshine everywhere, from what it had been, hearing that “Clang ... Clang ...” coming blindly nearer in the fog.

“We’re nearly out at sea,” said John.

“John says we’re nearly out,” Bridget called down into the cabin.

Commander Walker put his head out, looked round and went down again. The chug, chug of the engine came to an end.

“We shan’t want that now,” said Daddy, coming on deck again and talking quietly in the sudden silence made by the stopping of the engine.

They made as much room for him as they could and he sat on the after deck looking at Jim’s chart.

ON THE WAY TO THE ISLANDS

“I’ll take over now,” he said. “John, you’ve got the best eyes. Get forward by the mast and keep them skinned. Look out for a small black buoy with a square topmark.” He changed the Goblin’s course, and looked at the compass. “We ought to be heading for it now.”

John scrambled forward. The sea was smooth, the wind light, but the Goblin seemed to be moving faster than when she had been coming down the harbour with her engine going. The tide was with her now instead of against her and they could see by the buildings ashore how fast they were moving. Nobody even felt like being seasick.

Away to the south was a bit of a hill with a tall narrow tower. Ahead of them was a wide deep bay with a low straight coastline far away in the distance. John, standing by the mast searched for the buoy. Suddenly he saw a black speck dancing on the water.

“Small black buoy almost dead ahead,” called John.

“Piccaninny,” said Roger.

“It’s got something on the top of it,” said Titty, who, looking where John was looking, had managed to bring her telescope to bear.

“That’s the fellow,” said Daddy. “See any others?”

“There’s another beyond it.”

“Good.”

Soon they were sailing close past it, a black tarred barrel, with a stick and a sort of squarish box on the top of it. Ahead of them was another black barrel, and far ahead of that was a red one with a pointed top.

“In the channel now,” said Daddy, and Mother came up the companion ladder and put her head out and looked away over the water which seemed to stretch for miles on either side of them.

“Pretty narrow just here,” said Daddy.

“It doesn’t look it,” said Mother.

“It is, all the same. There’s hard sand just below water on that side, and rocky flats on the other. At low tide we wouldn’t be able to get in.”

“What would happen if we went over there?” said Roger, “so that we could have a better look at that tower.”

“A good old bump,” said Daddy, “and no more Goblin if we weren’t lucky. Lots of boats have been smashed up on that.”

“Are you sure it’s deep enough for us here?” asked Susan.

“Plenty,” said Daddy.

“I don’t see any islands,” said Bridget.

“Right ahead of us,” said Daddy.

Ahead of them the land seemed hardly above the level of the sea, just a long low line above the water, with higher ground far away behind it. But that low line of coast seemed to have no gaps in it. It looked as if it stretched the whole way round across the head of the bay. Even John began to doubt if there could be islands ahead. But Daddy was ticking off one buoy after another on Jim’s chart and seemed quite sure of his way. A couple of men were hauling a trawl net in a small boat and a cloud of gulls hovered above them. A motor boat appeared ahead, came to meet them and passed them in a flurry of foam.

“She must have come out from somewhere,” said Titty, but still could see no gap in the coast line.

“We’re nearly there,” said Daddy at last. “Look out for a round buoy with a cross on a stick above it.”

“There it is,” called John. “Close to the shore.”

Almost at the same moment, everybody saw a break in the line of sand away to the south, and a thread of water going in there, and one or two tall masts showing above sand dunes. And, as they came nearer to that round buoy with the cross they saw that a much wider channel was opening before them with smooth shining water stretching to the west and low banks on either side.

“There you are,” said Daddy. “That buoy marks the cross roads. Turn left, follow that creek in there, past those masts, and you’ll come to a town.”

“I can see houses now,” said Roger, “and lots more boats.”

“You can get right up to the town at high water in a dinghy. But if you go, don’t wait there too long, or there won’t be water to take you back.”

“But we’re going to an island aren’t we?” said Titty. “Not a town.”

“We are,” said Daddy. “We leave that buoy to port and carry straight on.”

“Crossroads buoy,” said Roger as they passed it.

A minute or two later they had left the open bay and the Goblin was slipping easily along in the quiet water of an inland sea. A low spit of land with a dyke along it already hid the creek that led to the town, though they could still see the tops of distant masts. Far away, on the opposite side, was another low dyke. Standing on the deck and in the cockpit they could see bushes here and there. Ahead of them the inland sea seemed to stretch on for ever.

“What’s it called?” asked Titty, from the foredeck.

Daddy smiled. “Do you want the name on Jim’s chart? I thought you’d give it a name yourselves.”

“It’s a very secret place,” said Roger. “You don’t see it until you’re almost inside.”

“Secret Water,” said Titty. “Let’s call it that.”

“Why not?” said Daddy and Titty scrambled back into the cockpit and pencilled in the first name on Daddy’s blank map.

“How far does it go?” asked John.

“Good long way at high tide,” said Daddy.

“It’s like a lake with no mountains,” said Titty.

“But where are the islands?” asked Roger.

“All round us,” said Daddy. He looked at his chart. “That’s one, right ahead. And that’s another, over there. And this is the island you’re going to be marooned on.” He pointed to port. “At high water you’ll be able to sail right round it through an inland sea wider than this, and get into the creek going to the town. At low water that’s probably all mud. Jim’s chart shows a track across it ... My blank map’ll give you a general idea, but you’ll find it all out for yourselves.”

“Unexplored,” said Titty, “until we’ve explored it.”

“Just so,” said Daddy.

“Gosh!” said Roger. “This is the real thing. Hullo! There’s another creek over on that side. And another on this....”

“That’s ours, I think,” said Daddy.

The Goblin slipped on. A wide creek opened to starboard. But Daddy was taking no notice of it. He was watching a smaller creek that was gradually opening on the other side, and glancing now and then at Jim’s chart.

“That must be the place,” he said. “I think we can run in now. Roll that jib up, John.”

“Aye, aye, Sir.”

“Ready? Haul away. Make fast. Now come aft and take her.”

John hauled on the line that made the jib roll neatly up on itself, made fast so that it should not unroll again, and clambered back into the crowded cockpit. Already the Goblin had left the Secret Water and was in the creek, moving more slowly now, under mainsail only, between green shores.

“Keep her as she’s going,” said Daddy, and went forward to deal with the anchor. There was the grumble and rattle of chain being hauled up and ranged on deck. Then Daddy was busy at the mast. The green banks slipped by. A heron got up and flapped slowly across the creek. A curlew cried. Daddy stood up on the foredeck watching the eastern bank, looking for something. Suddenly he flung out his right arm.

“Starboard,” he said quietly, and John steered towards the western bank.

“Now. Right round into the wind. Helm hard over.” John swung her round and the sail spilt the wind and flapped heavily as the Goblin headed back across the creek.

Splash!

The anchor was down, and Daddy was paying out chain. He was at the mast again. The boom lifted over their heads in the cockpit, and the sail came down with a run.

“Two tiers,” said Daddy. “We shan’t need more.”

In a minute or two, he had bundled the sail along the boom and put a couple of tiers to hold it there.

“We’ll call this Goblin Creek,” said Titty, pencil in one hand and the blank map in the other.

“Good name,” said Daddy. “Now then, John, haul in that dinghy. Will you put your Mother and me ashore?”

“What about us?” said Roger.

“Your turn’ll come,” said Daddy. “We’ve got to visit that kraal and make sure the natives won’t want to tell you to clear out after we’ve sailed away.”