Читать книгу Seahawk - Mary Grant Bruce - Страница 10

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THE town of Brandan’s Point straggled back from the sea, the road to the pier winding up the sandy headland. Not a good road for horses with laden vehicles, and motorists disliked it heartily, especially when rain turned it into a water-course. To-day, however, it was at its driest, and the fine sand made walking a heavy matter.

“Jolly hot!” said Derek, as they gained the level road above. “We’ll collect old Peter and have an ice when we come back, Jill.” He looked longingly at a small confectioner’s shop which bore the magic legend “Fresh Ices.”

“Oh!” said Jill blankly. “I didn’t bring any money!”

“I did. Fact is, I brought too much. I meant to take some out of my little wallet, and I forgot.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Jill, much relieved. “Then we’ll certainly have ices. There are your men from the launch, Derek.”

“Where?” he asked eagerly. “Oh—I see—over the other side.”

The men who had left the grey motor-boat were standing under the verandah of a shop across the street. One was a tall fellow, with a keen, dark face, clean-shaven and good-looking; his companion, short and thickset, with fair hair and a trim little moustache, had somewhat of the air of a cheerful little dog. They were dressed in sweaters and grey flannels, and both were hatless. The tall man was looking at his wrist-watch.

“They look pretty decent,” Derek commented. “I wish I knew who they are.”

“The Temples may know,” Jill suggested. The men did not interest her; at heart she was a little hurt that their launch had led Derek to disparage their own Seahawk, which represented to her all that was most desirable in boats.

“They may—but they haven’t been living here long, you know,” said Derek, moving on reluctantly. “Still, Peter has a way of picking up things. We’ll ask him.”

They turned from the main street, following a tree-shaded side-road for a few hundred yards. The Temples’ house, set in wide grounds, and half-hidden by shrubberies, faced them as the road curved. A boy’s figure could be seen at the gate.

“There’s Peter!” said Jill. “I’m glad he’s at home. Whistle to him, Derek.”

Derek whistled, and the boy looked up quickly. He stared at them for a moment; then waved his hand, continuing to busy himself with something at the gate-post. This showed itself, as the twins drew near, as a small flag of a particularly bilious shade of yellow, its staff thrust into a hole in the post. It drooped in a depressed fashion, and the boy drooped over the gate beside it, as if in imitation.

“What on earth is he up to?” uttered Derek. He raised his voice. “Whose flag are you flying, Peter? What’s your game?”

“Unclean!” said Peter in a hollow voice.

The twins stopped, staring.

“Do you mean us?” demanded Derek.

“No; you look beastly clean. We’re not. Are you coming to see us? Because you can’t.”

The bewildered twins moved forward.

“Keep back!” warned Peter. “Don’t I tell you we’re unclean? You ought to know a yellow flag when you see one. We’re ... er ... diseased.”

“Peter, what’s the matter? Anyone ill?”

“Ill!” said Peter gloomily. “We’re simply greasy with measles! Doris has got ’em, the two kids have got ’em, and now the cook’s got em. Bright holidays, and all that, I don’t think! And everyone’s watching me eagerly to see when I’ll blossom out in spots.”

He drew a small mirror from his pocket and inspected himself earnestly.

“None yet. The one on my nose is a mosquito-bite. It’s pretty foul, you know—the family actually wants me to blaze out in spots. They say it would be ever so much simpler if all of us had it at once. They’ve simply wished it on Doris. And now they’re wishing it on me!”

“Oh, Peter, I’m awfully sorry,” Jill said. “Is Doris very ill?”

“No. Nobody’s very ill. Doris seems pretty cheerful, considering, and the kids are sitting up now, doing jig-saws on trays. I don’t know how the cook is—and I don’t care. You never saw such a house. It’s simply sticky with aunts. They all had measles about forty years ago, so they’re not scared, and they came in herds to help Mother. You chaps got any aunts?”

“Not a single one!” said Derek. “We’ve always thought it was rather hard luck.”

“Oh, yeah?” drawled Peter expressively. “Don’t you waste any grief on that. Aunts think that because they’re aunts you’ve got to love them, and they’re entitled to boss you. Mine kiss me twice a day. Large moist kisses. I’m fed-up with life.”

The twins, rendered almost speechless by the starkness of this tragedy, uttered incoherent sympathy.

“Can you come out?” Derek asked. “We’re not afraid of measles—we had ’em years ago.”

Peter shook his head.

“Had to give my word I wouldn’t go outside the place. The doctor says he doesn’t mind how many Temples have ’em, but he bars us spreading germs all over Brandan’s. So you see what that means. Whenever I’m in the house I’m falling over aunts, so I’m reduced to wandering outside like—like a beast in the jungle.” The twins exploded in a sudden shout of laughter. Peter glared at them for a moment, and then permitted himself to grin.

“I suppose it has its funny side,” he said. “Especially when you’re on the right side of the gate. Sometimes I think I’d just as soon come all over spotty and be done with it, if it weren’t for the aunts. You see, once I go down I’ll be at their mercy, and they’ll sit on my bed and talk to me. Improving talk. Unless you’ve had any of your own you can’t imagine the line of chat aunts hand out to a fellow.”

“I wish we could kidnap you and take you over to our place,” Derek declared.

Peter sighed heavily.

“Do you mind not talking about it?” he asked. “I might break down. Tell me about yourselves. Having good hols?”

“Well, rather. The parents are away, so it’s a bit dull. The fact is,” admitted Derek, “we came over to see if we could stay with you for a few days. Your mother was jolly kind asking us last hols.”

“Doris talked of our camping in your garden in a tent,” added Jill. “We thought that would be fun. Peter, we even brought our blankets!”

“Well, that puts the lid on things!” mourned Peter. “What larks we could have had! I say, you know, I’m awfully sorry. It seems pretty rotten to have to turn you back at the gate.”

The twins assured him handsomely that their feelings were not to be considered.

“All the same, it’s foul,” stated Peter. “But I don’t see what I can do about it. How did you come over?”

“In the motor-boat. We left our kit in her. We’ve been fishing all day. These fish are for your mother, by the way,” Derek added. “Can you let them in, or will they get measles?”

“I think we can chance it. What are they—schnapper? Good business,” said Peter. “Most of my meals are tail-ends of the stuff they make for nourishment. And you two free and independent blighters are out on the loose with a motor-boat and blankets! Why don’t you go and camp somewhere?”

“That’s what we meant to do,” said Jill. “But it rather depended on you.”

“I don’t see that. We’d have loved to have you, of course. But if you don’t want to go home—well, you’ve got your boat and your kit, and you could easily pick up some grub. And there’s lots of Australia to camp in!”

“We haven’t got a tent.”

“Who wants a tent?” demanded Peter loftily. “You’ve got a big launch. I’ve slept in a canoe before now. Though I’ll admit I never knew in how many places I could ache until that night!”

The twins looked at each other doubtfully.

“Tell you what I’d do, if I had your chance,” said Peter eagerly. “I’d go and camp on one of the islands. I’ve never been there, but I believe they’re ripping—good bathing, good sand, and fishing-grounds all round ’em. And there are caves—lots of ’em. A chap told me that the water is always deep in some of the sea-caves; so deep that you can stow a launch away.”

“I say!” uttered Derek, his eyes kindling.

“It’s nothing of a run out, with a motor-boat,” Peter said. “You could buy a frying-pan and things in the town, and you’d nearly live on the fish you’d catch. And you could run over here every day for anything you wanted. What would your people say? Would there be a row?”

“I don’t think so,” said Derek slowly. “Father said I could take the boat anywhere. Do you know if it’s risky for a boat the size of Seahawk?—currents and sunken rocks, or anything like that?”

“I fancy not. Two fellows were out there in the summer, and neither of them knew much about a boat. I heard all I know of the islands from them. They had a fortnight there, and they said it was marvellous.”

There was a pause, devoted to profound thought by the twins.

“Well—why not?” they said suddenly in perfect tune. Peter grinned.

“You’re a funny pair,” he told them. “Do you always think like that? One brain between you?”

“It’s a good thing for you that you’re the safe side of the gate,” said Derek threateningly. “Do you think it’s really all right, Jill?”

“I think it’s a gorgeous chance,” she answered. “There’s nothing to go home for, and nobody to worry about. I’m game, if you are.”

“Oh, I’m game. We’ve always wanted to explore the islands. And if we go now and find that they’re as good as Peter thinks they are we’ll make Father and Mother come out another time. I’m not sure that we wouldn’t explore them better on our own: parents have such a way of thinking that perfectly easy things aren’t safe.”

“Mine are a bit trying that way,” agreed Peter. “I took the kids out in that canoe I built, and Mother was quite fussy about it.”

“That’s the one that sinks unexpectedly, isn’t it?” asked Jill.

“Oh, well, she did, once or twice. But I’d altered her after that. She was really a jolly good boat until I stove her in on the Black Rocks. She wasn’t much good after that. By the way, you haven’t got a dinghy with you, I suppose?”

Derek shook his head.

“It’s a good thing to have one at the islands. The chaps I was telling you about came in and hired one: they said you could get into lots of places in a dinghy where you couldn’t take a big boat. There’s no landing for a launch on some of the islands, but you can anchor, and go off exploring in a dinghy. You can have mine if you like.”

“Oh, but you might want her,” objected Jill.

“Me? I’m booked for measles. There isn’t a hope that I can dodge, with the aunts all concentrated on it. And, anyhow, I’m not allowed outside the place. You might as well have her. She’s a tiny thing, but she’ll take you anywhere.”

He fished in his pocket and produced a key.

“That’s my private key to our boat-house. There’s another up at the house, so you can keep that until you come back. You know our boat-house, don’t you? It’s painted green, and it’s got our name on it. Just east of the pier.”

“Jolly good of you.” Derek hesitated. “But I don’t quite like taking her. It’s all rot, you know, making sure you’re going to catch the blessed measles. You may find you want her any time.”

“Well, look here,” said Peter, brightening. “If I don’t get ’em, and the doctor lets me out, and if you’re not back, I’ll go over in our launch and find you at the islands. You wouldn’t mind if I came and camped too, would you?”

“Rather not!” cried the twins, and Peter grinned again.

“You make up your mind that you’re not going to catch them,” advised Jill. “And keep out of the house as much as you can. Probably, if they saw you looking horribly fit they’d be glad to send you out of harm’s way. We’ll keep a look-out for you.”

“You’ll see me if I can get half a chance to escape,” Peter said. “This is the first gleam of hope I’ve had for a week. Catch this key, Derek—I hope it hasn’t got a measle on it!” He tossed it over the gate.

“Oh, stop talking measles—don’t even think of them!” exclaimed Derek as he caught the key. “And smash that rotten little looking-glass—if you keep looking for spots you’ll find them.”

“Can’t you get busy at something, Peter?” asked Jill. “You’re sure to catch the disease if you go on acting the wandering beast in the jungle. You’re awfully good at carpentering—why don’t you begin to make something in the workshop? Then you would get interested and forget all about spots.”

“That’s rather a good notion,” Peter said. “You two are pretty good at bucking one up. Before you came, if I’d thought of making anything it would have been my own tombstone—but now I believe I’ll tackle something else. I need a new box for birds’ eggs.”

“More than you’ll need a tombstone,” remarked Derek. “That’s a job that can always be left to some other fellow. What about these fish, Peter? We shall want the basket. Shall I hurl them over the fence one by one?”

“You leave them on the grass, and I’ll collect them when you’ve gone. I can string them together. But you’d better keep some for yourselves for supper to-night.”

“We might keep a couple in case we haven’t time to catch more.” Derek tipped out the fish in a shining heap, and Joker hastily withdrew to a dignified distance.

“You got some beauties,” remarked Peter admiringly. “Mother will be jolly glad of those. Did you see many people fishing?”

“No—we were the only people in sight. Oh, I say, Peter, we saw a ripping launch: a long grey one, with a marvellous engine. Do you know anything about her?”

“I saw her the other day—a beauty, isn’t she? Three men have her, but I don’t know who they are. Father heard they were camping up the coast, somewhere beyond the Point. Not your way. You see, I haven’t had a chance to find out anything; we went into quarantine two days after I got home.”

“I was hoping she was a local boat,” said Derek. “But if they’re only visitors I don’t suppose they’ll be here long. My word, she can go! I thought she was a speed-boat when I saw her first. It would be rather sport to get to know those fellows, and have a run in her.”

“Well, you might. If they’re fishing anywhere near the islands you’ll probably come across them——” He stopped, listening. From the direction of the house came a long call: “Pe—ter!”

“That’s Aunt Cora,” he said bitterly. “She’s always on my trail; I believe she’d break her heart if she wasn’t the one to find my first spot. Sometimes I think she and Aunt Eva have got a bet on about it. There she goes again!” He uttered a shout. “Coming!”

“I’d better go, I suppose. No choking her off: she was meant for a bloodhound. And when I get busy in the workshop she’s sure to come along with her knitting and keep me company.” He broke off. A grim smile dawned.

“Got a brain-wave?” asked Derek.

“A beauty. There’s some fish-glue in the workshop—perfectly foul stuff; you can smell it a mile off. I’ll melt it and paint a board or two. It’ll be too strong, even for Aunt Cora!”

“Pe—ter!” The voice was nearer.

“Oh—coming!” he called disgustedly. “Good hunting, you two—I’ll be over if I have any luck.” He disappeared among the shrubs.

The twins looked at each other and laughed.

“Poor beggar! And he’s left the fish!”

“Oh, he’ll come back for them,” Jill said lightly. “Trust Peter. Come along, Derek—we’ve got to buy about forty thousand things, and get the dinghy, and sail off to the Never-Never. It’s going to be the most gorgeous adventure!”