Читать книгу Seahawk - Mary Grant Bruce - Страница 8
THE “SEAHAWK”
Оглавление‟WELL, we’ve laughed until we ached, and we’ve made Joe into a film-fan; and that’s more than I thought we could have done this afternoon,” remarked Derek. “But it doesn’t stop the house feeling awfully large and empty to-night, does it?”
Jill shook her head.
“It’s not so funny ... being without Mother. Everything seems to have fallen to pieces, somehow. What are we going to do about it, Derek?”
They were sitting in the smoking-room, each half lost in the depths of a large leather arm-chair. Joker was curled up on Derek’s knee; he alone was unaware of anything lacking towards complete happiness. They had tried the wireless, which crackled under a burden of atmospherics, and the gramophone, which seemed only boring, and had finally relapsed into silence.
“Oh, well, we aren’t going to bleat about it,” Derek said firmly. “I expect things will feel better to-morrow. We’ll go fishing, anyhow, as we didn’t go to-day.”
Jill nodded absently. She was thinking.
“Derek,” she said presently, “I have a plan. You know the Temples are always asking us to go over and stay with them at the Point. Suppose we go?”
“They mightn’t be able to have us. Pity we didn’t think of asking them when we were over there to-day.”
“Oh, they’re the kind of people who like to have a crowd always. Doris said they could put us into a tent last hols. We might take over some blankets, in case they were short of them.”
“It would be rather fun,” said Derek. “Peter Temple’s a good sort. Did you think of going over in the car?”
Jill considered this.
“No, I think that would be dull. Joe would have to take us if we did. I vote we go in the launch. We could fish in the morning, have lunch on the water, and turn up at the Temples’ in time for tea.”
“I say, Jill, it’s a bit of a brain-wave!” said Derek. “A few days over there would just fill in the time before Mother comes back. You’re sure you’d like to go?”
“I think it would be wise,” said Jill sagely. “If we had known we should be alone here, we’d have been prepared, and quite happy. It’s just because Mother has been whisked away unexpectedly that everything seems to have flopped. So the best plan is to do something that is—well, different. And we’re sure to have fun with the Temples. Anyhow—we’ll go looking for adventures.”
“Right-oh. And we’ll find ’em!” cried Derek. “I feel bucked-up already. Will it matter what we wear?”
“I don’t think the Temples would notice if we lived in bathing-suits from morning till night,” laughed Jill. “I might put in a frock just in case it was wanted. But they would run us over in the car if we really needed more clothes.”
“I’ll take you, old man,” Derek said, pulling Joker’s ears. “Couldn’t leave you alone to look after the place with all your belongings away. And if you fight with Temple dogs you’ll get whacked.” At which Joker, clearly understanding, became wildly excited, barked enthusiastically, and ended by licking his master’s nose.
The morning broke clear and still, promising a day of unusual warmth for autumn. Not the best of days for fishing, Derek reflected, as he carried blankets down to the boat-house and stowed them in the launch. The tiny bay below the house was like glass, sheltered on both sides as it was by low cliffs, clothed with tea-tree scrub. He ran the launch out, made sure that he had plenty of petrol and that all was well with the engine, and brought her alongside the jetty. Joker, established on the fore-deck, surveyed these preparations with grave approval.
“Looks well, old chap, doesn’t she?” Derek asked him, jumping out, and turning to run his eye over the Seahawk. Her brown paint was fresh; every part that could be polished shone brightly. “Come along; we’re not off yet.” With the little dog at his heels he went whistling back towards the house—quickening his steps as he saw Jill, laden with bundles and baskets.
“Couldn’t you have waited until I got back, you old duffer!” he reproached her. “There’s no need to make yourself into a pack-horse. Is there anything else to bring?”
“No, that’s all,” she answered, not sorry to give up some of her burdens. “You’ve got the fishing-gear?”
Derek nodded. “Those clams I got for bait must be a bit ancient, but the fish like ’em that way. Anyhow, we can soon catch something for fresh bait. What about getting Mother’s letters?”
“I told Joe to send on anything for us. And I’ve written to Mother, saying we were going to the Temples’. So everything’s fixed up.”
Heavy steps pounded down the hill in their rear.
“Well, now, Miss Jill—you hadn’t ought to ’ave gone off on me like that,” Joe rebuked her. “I was only ’avin’ a word with the girls in the kitchen, an’ you know you’d a right to get me to carry them things.” He annexed all that she was holding, together with Derek’s largest basket, and strode downwards.
“Films?” queried Derek, with a grin.
“Films.” She nodded. “I hadn’t the heart to interrupt him—he was in full career, with Mary and Susan gaping at him. I see all Joe’s savings going to support that cinema.”
“He’ll end by importing cowboy kit to ride after cattle. And that will make things very bright when the other fellows see him,” chuckled Derek. “Well, nobody can say we haven’t given Joe a new outlook on life. We’ve done our good deed for the holidays, and now we can be as slack as we like!”
Joe had arranged everything in shipshape fashion in the launch. He stood on the end of the pier as they moved slowly out.
“Don’t stay away too long, Master Derek! This place’ll be pretty lonesome until yous all get back.”
“We won’t be long,” Derek called. “You’ll know where to find us if we’re wanted.”
“Right-oh!” He waved his hat. The launch slipped out of the little bay, tossing gently as she met the long, lazy swell of the open sea. In a moment they were out of sight beyond the southern headland.
Twelve miles up the coast Brandan’s Point ran out, a long, narrow finger dotted with houses, ending in a bluff that dropped sheer to the water. In the other direction there were no headlands: the line of hummocks was unbroken, clothed towards the land with scrub, presenting precipitous sandy slopes towards the sea. It was a lonely stretch of coast, with few houses to be seen, and only at a very few places was there any shelter for boats. Their own little bay seemed due to an accident, perhaps a whim of Father Neptune, which had flung great rocks to the shore, so close together that in the course of ages sand and scrub had drifted over them. Other rocks were scattered in the water, rough brown shapes that made careful steering necessary for a little distance.
Beyond was open water. Here and there, towards the Point, a buoy marked a dangerous bank or a submerged rock. Farther out, islands were dotted about, some mere humps of sand and rock, with five or six larger ones, covered with trees. They were islands of hope to Jill and Derek. Since they had first come to live by the sea the islands had represented to them the undiscovered country which they must some day explore. That was out of the question while they had only a rowing-boat; but the purchase of the launch, a few months back, made longer sea-trips possible, and both twins had looked forward eagerly to an island expedition during the holidays.
They ran down the coast for a few miles before turning outwards to a bank where fair schnapper-fishing was generally to be found. There they anchored and dropped in their hand-lines, weighted with heavy lead sinkers. The ancient clams were not especially pleasant to prepare as bait, but it was soon evident that the schnapper appreciated a meal with a flavour; in a few moments Jill’s line quivered, tightened and jerked, as the fish tugged furiously. She hauled in, hand over hand. Joker became wildly excited when a broad shape, darting hither and thither, gleamed in the water; and in a moment a big pink-and-silver fish was flapping madly in the bottom of the launch.
“Keep back, Joker!” shouted Derek. “I’ll get him, Jill—don’t let him tangle the line more than you can help.” He gave his own line a couple of twists round a cleat and strove to disentangle the fighting fish, while Joker, yearning to be in the fray, barked furiously. Twice the schnapper eluded the boy’s grasp; then Derek had him. He ended his career with a quick blow, holding him up in triumph. The sunlight flashed on the beautiful sides and on the ugly bull-nosed head.
“Some fish!” uttered Derek. “Well done, old thing—good beginning!”
“Quick—there’s something on your line!” Jill cried. She snatched the fish as Derek swung round to find his line taut and jerking.
“He’s sending up Morse messages from below!” grinned Derek, gripping the line; “and, my hat! he can pull. Get your gear clear, Jill—I don’t want to land this chap on top of it.”
“All clear!” sang out Jill; “and Joker thinks a whale is trying to kill you.” She grasped the little dog’s collar as he struggled to go to his master’s aid. “Be quiet, Joker—lie down, sir!” The fish was hauled in to the accompaniment of a fusillade of barking.
“I’ll have to teach that dog fishing-manners,” said Derek with annoyance, as he wound up his line. “Come here, Joker.” He dangled the schnapper by its tail in front of the terrier’s nose. “Take a good look at it.”
Joker did so, and said exactly what he thought of it. It was clear that he regarded it as bad medicine.
“No, you don’t—you’re not to bark at fish,” his master told him. “Be quiet! Well, if you won’t——” He rubbed the wet black nose with the fish. Joker protested violently.
“I wouldn’t like it myself, so I can guess how you feel about it,” grinned Derek. “Stop yapping: I’ll rub your nose every time you do it.”
“I’ve got another!” cried Jill, from the stern.
“Bring it in—it will help to train Joker.” He silenced a bark with a quick dab of fish. “You’ll get it every time, old chap. Little dogs must learn to be quiet in boats. Now you get up for’ard and hold your tongue.”
Joker escaped to the bow, where he showed that he considered himself free to bark; finding, to his disgust, that further applications of fish were his reward. The lesson continued for twenty minutes, during which Jill landed three fish. Derek felt that his sternness had been worth while when Joker watched the third arrival in silence. He quivered like a bundle of springs, but he did not bark; and was given praise and a biscuit.
“Now you’re a sensible fisherman’s dog—good old chap!” said Derek, rubbing his ears. “You stay there and be quiet. I’ll leave your object-lesson near you, just to remind you what will happen if you get above yourself again.”
Joker looked at the schnapper in deep disgust. He retired to the farthest possible point of the bow and sat down to reflect on the difficulties of life.
“You can be pretty patient when you like,” Jill told Derek. “I think I should have given it up and whacked him ten minutes ago.”
“Whacking wouldn’t have been half as good,” said Derek. “He knows now what fish means to his young mind.”
“Yes, when I catch them. But he may not be able to bear it when he thinks Master is attacked by a sea-monster.”
“We’ll see.” They fished for a few minutes before Derek’s bait was again taken. Joker, who had remained coldly aloof just before, when Jill had hauled one in, was on his feet in a moment, bristling. He gave one short yap.
“Stop that!” commanded Derek, waving his free hand towards the schnapper lying in the bow, and Joker said no more, though he stood quivering as if about to spring. Derek landed his fish, killed it, and stowed it in the basket. Then he turned.
“Good dog! Come here.”
Joker came with a bound. This was not the stern-voiced Master who rubbed his nose with a hideous sea-monster: it was the Master who knew just where a dog liked to be tickled, whose voice was, beyond all other sounds, able to send one little dog into the seventh heaven. Joker rubbed that fishy nose into his arm in ecstasy.
“Very good dog!” said Derek. “Now you get back, and we’ll all have a good time.”
Joker went back, passing the schnapper with a look that bespoke utter contempt. Sea-monsters, the look said clearly, were beneath a dignified dog’s notice: when young, he had imagined that they were to be barked at, but now he had grown old and wise. He watched the fishing with interest, but without comment, since that was evidently the way Master wished to be helped.
“I think we’ve got enough,” remarked Jill after a tune. “The Temples will never be able to eat all these.”
“Oh, they can give them away,” Derek said carelessly. “But I’ve had enough fishing. It’s better fun with a rod: I vote we bring rods out next time.”
“Yes—and now we’ll have lunch.” She wound up her line, and they cleaned the launch with cotton-waste. Derek pitched Joker’s sea-monster overboard, to the little dog’s obvious relief. The sight of the lunch-basket brought him to his feet, wagging his brief tail. He looked sideways at Derek, and bounded into the stern at his whistle.
“Susan seems to have packed enough for an army,” said Jill, investigating the basket. “Sausage-roll or sandwich?”
“If you put them between us we shan’t have to make up our minds,” grinned Derek. “I’m hungry enough for an army. Can you see Joker’s package? I asked Susan to put in some special bones. Sandwiches are not much good for him.”
“Here you are—all labelled.” She tossed him a brown-paper bag, and he made Joker happy with a juicy chop-bone. They ate in contented silence, basking in the sunshine.
“Well—I’m beaten,” announced Derek after a time. “That is good cake—but solid. There’s an awful lot left. Shall we ground-bait the schnapper with it?”
Jill’s prudent mind revolted at this.
“Oh, it might come in handy—you never know. I think we’ll keep it.”
“Well, I suppose the Temples keep fowls,” he said. “They’ll eat it, if nobody else will. Oh, and I’m so lazy! I don’t want to fish, or pull up the anchor, or anything. I think I want to sleep.”
“No reason why you shouldn’t,” Jill said, packing up the lunch-basket. “It’s rather jolly to think there’s no hurry about doing anything. Why do we feel so lazy in the first week of the hols?”
“Because we live by a time-table all through term, I suppose. We just go from one thing to another then, because we’ve got to. Then we come home, where time doesn’t matter, and we go slack.”
“Like old elastic,” suggested Jill.
“Just that. Now I know what I feel like.” He gave a great yawn, dragged himself up to the decking, and stretched out on his back, pulling his soft felt hat over his eyes.
Jill laughed to herself, yawned as she laughed, and followed him. Joker followed Jill, finding a place in the sun between them, where a little dog might put his nose between his paws and go to sleep. Silence fell. The launch rocked gently on the long sea roll.
The quick beat of a motor roused them half an hour later. Joker greeted it with a yap, and Derek rolled over. Jill was on her elbow, watching a boat half a mile away out to sea.
She was a long grey launch, almost the colour of the sea at evening. Two men sat in her, and she was headed for Brandan’s Point. The sea boiled away under her forefoot; her wake was a long path across the water.
“My hat, what a beauty!” uttered Derek. “Wonder whose she is? I didn’t think there was such a boat round here.”
“Well, she mightn’t belong here, because she could certainly arrive from anywhere else pretty quickly,” Jill said, laughing. “Do you think she’s a naval launch?”
“I don’t think so—she’s not quite their colour. They’re a darker grey. Whoever her owners are they’re lucky blighters. She’s a super-thing in launches.” His face was eager as he watched.
“They’re going in to the Point. I say, Jill, let’s go, too. We might have a chance of seeing her at the pier.”
Together they tugged at the anchor, coiling up its rope hastily, with something less than the shipshape manner enforced by their father. Derek started the engine; they dashed off at a pace considerably swifter than their leisurely progress of the morning, though it was slow travelling beside the speed of the grey launch. But the leading boat did not keep up her rate. She was still some miles from the Point when her engine slowed down, and she ran in quietly. Watching, the twins saw her berth by the pier steps. The men made her fast, ran up the steps, and walked off towards the township.
“Good business!” said Derek. “We’re safe to see her now.”
He kept his engine at high speed, and they were soon near the pier. It was deserted, save for a lone fisherman at the far end. They berthed at the other side of the steps. There was little to see in the grey launch, though her beautiful lines were a joy to any boat-lover. Her engine was carefully covered: everything about her was as spick-and-span as paint and polish could make her. Two rods in canvas cases were stowed along one side, a big fishing-basket near them. Derek sighed with joy over her.
“Lucky blighters!” he repeated enviously.
“Well, I think our own boat is just as good. For us, I mean,” retorted Jill.
“Oh, for us, of course she is. She’s just a good family affair. But you don’t understand, Jill—this one’s altogether out of the common. Wouldn’t I like to get to know her owners, and have a spin in her!”
“So you might, with luck. You never know,” Jill suggested.
“Too much luck to hope for. Well, I’ve seen her, anyway. Now I suppose we had better get up to the Temples’. We’ll leave the kit until we have seen them, won’t we? Peter can come and help us carry it up.”
“Yes—probably they will send the car down when they hear we have that pile of blankets. But we might as well take the fish, Derek.”
“It would look better,” agreed Derek. “Like the people that arrived bringing their provender in the mouth of their sack. We haven’t got a sack but a fishing-basket’s the next best thing.”
He slung the basket on his shoulder, and then hesitated.
“I vote we put on blazers. It’s as well to make a first appearance looking slightly respectable.”
“Right,” agreed Jill. “Chuck mine up.”
The blazers did little to mark any difference between them—each being dark blue, alike save for the school crests on the pockets. With Jill’s hair covered by her grey felt hat no stranger would have dreamed that they were not brothers. They fell into step, marching along the pier, with Joker at their heels, and took the steep path towards the town.