Читать книгу The Adventurous Four Again - Enid blyton - Страница 5

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Breakfast was a very welcome meal. There were hard-boiled eggs, scones and butter and a tin of peaches. Jill heated some milk down in the little cabin and made cocoa, which they all enjoyed.

Now the boat was heading shore-wards, and the rocky cliffs could be clearly seen. It was about eight o’clock. The sun was higher in the sky, and its warmth was very welcome.

“My word—what a lonely, desolate coast!” said Tom, watching it as the boat sped along. “And look at those wicked rocks, Andy, nearer the shore.”

“Yes—there are some out here too, so we’ve got to keep a look-out,” said Andy. “The worst are marked on that chart. I know them all. In about an hour’s time we have to slip between an opening in a rocky ridge we’ll come to, and skim along in a kind of channel between two rows of rocks. We’re all right if we get into the channel. It’s like a sea pathway, and so long as we keep in the middle of it, we’re all right.”

At about nine-o’clock the children saw ahead of them a very turbulent stretch of water. The waves frothed and surged and sent spray high into the air.

“Look out!” said Tom, pointing ahead. “There must be rocks there.”

“Yes—just about here is the opening I told you of,” said Andy. “We’ve got to slip through it as soon as we come to it. I think it lies beyond that big surge of water.”

He cleverly skirted the bubbling, frothing patch, where the waves were torn into shreds on rocks that hardly showed above the surface. Then the children gave a shout.

“Here’s the entrance—look—a nice, calm little bit!”

Andy steered the boat deftly through the little passage, the opening through the outer ridge of rocks. The boat careered along, its sails full of wind, and slid into a channel between the outer and inner rows of rocks. Fairly calm water ran there.

“There are horrid rocks on each side of us,” said Jill. “But here we’re safe! How far does this queer calm channel go, Andy?”

“It flows to Smuggler’s Rock,” said Andy, “but we swing landwards before we get there, to the Cliff of Birds.”

“Smuggler’s Rock! What an exciting name!” said Tom, and he looked at the map. “Oh yes—your father’s put it in—at least, I suppose this dot, with S.R. beside it, means Smuggler’s Rock?”

“That’s right,” said Andy. “We’ve a good way to go still. My, aren’t these lonely waters? We haven’t sighted a ship on the sea or seen a soul on land since we left our village behind!”

“It’s a wild bit of the coast,” said Tom. “I wonder why Smuggler’s Rock was given that name, Andy? Were there smugglers there in the old days?”

“I don’t know,” said Andy. “I’ve only seen the Rock from the distance. It’s like a small steep island made entirely of rock. Nothing grows there, I should think—except seaweed round the foot. Maybe there are caves there that smugglers hid things in. I don’t know anything about it. Nobody goes there now—and maybe they never did! Maybe it’s just a name.”

“It’s half-past ten,” said Tom, after a time. “Shall we soon be there, Andy—at the Cliff of Birds?”

“Why, are you getting hungry again?” asked Andy, with a grin.

“Well—I am,” said Tom, “but I wasn’t thinking of that. I was thinking of the time, and how long we’d have there. We’ll have to allow a good many hours for getting back.”

“We’ll have a couple of hours at the Cliffs and no more,” said Andy. “But it will be enough. You’ll be able to climb up the cliff and explore it a bit, and have some dinner, and maybe take some photographs. Then we’ll have to go back.”

“Is that Smuggler’s Rock, look, right over there!” suddenly shouted Jill, pointing westwards. The others looked, and saw a small, rocky island rising above the waves a fair distance away. Almost at the same moment Andy swung the boat to the left, and headed for the shore.

“Yes—that’s Smuggler’s Rock,” he said. “And did you notice that the channel we were in went on towards it? But I’ve swung away now, because we’re coming to the Cliff of Birds. See the birds on the water now, and flying above it!”

As they sailed nearer to the Cliff of Birds the children shouted in amazement at the amount of birds to be seen everywhere. Gulls called, and the sound of their laughing voices, which Jill said reminded her of the mewing of cats, echoed all round them. Birds bobbed up and down on the water, skimmed the waves, soared high and low in the air.

“Now, when we round this rocky point, you’ll see we come into a kind of shallow bay, and the cliffs behind are the ones I’ve brought you to see,” said Andy. “They are covered with the kind of little narrow ledges that sea-birds love for their nests. They must have used the cliff for hundreds of years.”

The Andy rounded the point, and then swept into a shallow bay. The children gazed at the towering cliffs behind, too astonished to speak.

There were birds there by the thousand! They lined every ledge, they called from every point. They launched themselves from the steep cliffs into the air, and soared and glided on the currents of air, crying and calling at the tops of their wild voices.

The sight of the red-sailed ship startled them. A hundred or so flew up from the cliffs, and their flight startled hundreds more, so that the rushing of wings sounded like a mighty wind. Tom gave a cry.

“What’s that falling down the cliff—look, it’s like a rain of white drops tumbling down!”

“Eggs!” said Andy. “These sea-birds lay their eggs on the bare ledges of rock, you know—and they are jolly careless with them. When they fly off suddenly they often make their precious eggs roll off—then down they fall and smash on the rocks below.”

“What a waste,” said Jill. “I wish we hadn’t frightened them. But what a sight, Andy! I’ve never, never, in all my life seen or heard so many birds together before!”

“Andy, look—there’s a river rushing out at the bottom of the cliff,” said Tom, excited. “Is it a river? It seems to be coming out of a cave! Right out of the depths of the cliff.”

“Yes, it’s a river,” said Andy, bringing the boat in gently. “It must flow right through the cliff. And look—do you see that waterfall splashing half-way down the cliff? That comes out of a hole somewhere up there. I suppose it couldn’t find a way to seep down through the rock, so it has forced itself out up there, and made a waterfall.”

“It’s a very exciting place,” said Jill. “I wish the birds wouldn’t make quite so much noise, though. I can hardly hear myself speak!”

“Where are we going to put the boat?” asked Mary.

“There’s no jetty—and no sand to drag her on to. What shall we do?”

“I’ll guide her into the deep pool under that overhanging cliff,” said Andy. “And let down the anchor. She’ll be all right there. We can jump across to the rocks nearby.”

“Let’s have dinner first,” said Jill.

“Well—only just a snack now,” said Tom, to everyone’s surprise. “I’m longing to explore that bird-cliff. It’s marvellous, really marvellous. We don’t want to waste too much time eating. If we had a snack now, we could make a good meal on the way back.”

“Right,” said Andy. So they hurriedly made some sandwiches of bread and butter and potted meat. They ate them, had a drink, and then, with the Andy lying quietly at anchor, looked to see which rock would be the best to jump to.

“There’s a rock just under water here,” said Jill, peering over the side of the boat. “We’ll tread on that, and then we can easily get to that big rock there, and so to the rocky ledge at the bottom of the cliff.”

They took off their shoes and tied them around their necks. Then they made their way across the rocks to the foot of the cliff. Not far off, the river that came out of a cavern in the cliff surged into the sea, frothing and seething where its current met the waves of the sea. The waters there boiled and surged and made a great noise. Altogether it was a very deafening place, for the sea-birds never once stopped their loud clamouring and calling.

“I’ll find the easiest path up the cliff,” said Andy, who was as good as a goat on hill or cliff. “You follow me carefully. It’s a steep cliff, but not dangerous to anyone like us that’s used to climbing about. Look out for any slippery bit. You go last, Tom, in case one of the girls should slip.”

With the clamour of the birds round them, and a ceaseless swish of wings, the four children began their steep climb.

There were plenty of good footholds and handholds, but their parents would certainly not have liked to watch them going slowly upwards, higher and higher. Soon they looked like specks against the towering cliffs.

They had their rubber shoes on again now, and Tom carried his camera slung over his shoulder. Soon they came to the nesting-places, high up beyond the reach of any stormy waves. The frightened, angry birds flew off their eggs. There were no nests at all. Jill was grieved to see yet more eggs roll into the sea.

“Some of them don’t fall off,” she called. “They just roll round and round. Look what a funny shape they are—awfully pointed at one end.”

“Eggs shaped like that don’t roll away so easily,” said Andy. “They are meant to roll round and round in exactly the same spot.”

Soon they came to a narrow ledge that seemed almost like a pathway round the cliff-side. It was about half-way up. Jill suddenly gave a cry.

“Andy! I’ve just looked down! And oh, I don’t like it a bit! I might fall, it makes me giddy.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Andy, who didn’t mind heights at all. “You’ve never minded before. Follow me, and I’ll take you round the cliff a bit, where there’s a wider place you can rest in. You’re tired!”

Trembling, poor Jill followed Andy closely, not daring to look down at the far-away sea again. Neither Tom nor Mary minded a bit. They thought it was funny of Jill to feel afraid.

The ledge was a favourite nesting-place for the birds, and the children had to be careful not to tread on the eggs. Jill was glad when the rocky pathway widened out, and became a fine resting-place. At the back of this resting-place was a shallow cave. The children crawled into it, and lay there, panting, warm with their climb.

“I’ll just go out and see if I can take a few snaps,” said Tom, at last. But just as he was about to go, he stopped. He heard a noise that sounded most peculiar in that deserted, sea-bird-haunted place—the sound of somebody whistling a well-known tune! How very strange!