Secret Water

  “He’s got them,” said Daisy. “We landed and then he towed them round and anchored them out of sight behind the little islands.”

  “Our clothes are in one of them,” said Peggy.

  By the time the Eels and their blood relations had come down to the landing place, they could hear the sound of oars in the dark, and presently the Mastodon came pulling in, with the three small boats of the savages towing astern.

  A minute or two later, four of the savages were rowing away, the Mastodon to his lair, the other three to the mouth of the creek.

  “It’s been just gorgeous,” said Daisy. “And what we won’t do next year. …”

  Five explorers and two striped savages stood in the dark at the landing stage listening to the splash of oars.

  “Karabadangbaraka!” the call came over the water.

  “Akarabgnadabarak!” came the answer from the shore and from the Mastodon already near the mouth of his creek.

  “Come on, Peggy. Wallow a bit and get the war-paint off,” said Nancy. “I’ve got something to say to you,” she whispered privately.

  “Yes,” said Susan. “You’ll never get the mud out of your sleeping bags if you go into them like that. And look here, Bridget. You ought to be in bed already.”

  Nancy and Peggy, back from their wallow, dried themselves by the embers of the bonfire. “Lucky it’s too dark,” said Nancy, “to see the blackness of the towels. But we won’t want them again. Buck up with your drying. You’ve got to sleep while you can.”

  “What are you doing in the stores tent, Titty?” said Susan. “Putting things back? That’s right. But we’re not going to do any washing up till morning.”

  “Good,” said Titty.

  Bridget had gone unwillingly to bed, but slept as soon as her head was on her pillow. After all, she had been an Israelite in the morning, an Egyptian in the afternoon and a human sacrifice in the evening and that was about enough for one day.

  “It just can’t be helped about Peewitland and the North West Passage,” said John. “Daddy’ll understand. Hullo, Titty. Have you taken the maps into your tent?”

  “I’ve got them all,” said Titty. “Do you want them?”

  “No,” said John.

  “Aren’t you going to bed?” said Susan. “We’ve got to be up early. It’ll take us all our time to get packed.”

  “I know,” said John.

  He stood for a minute or two watching the dying fire, looking into the darkness and thinking over the exploration of the week. The map was not finished. They had failed after all. Well, it couldn’t be helped. The main thing now was to have everything packed and ready before the relief ship came in. He went to his tent, pulled his clothes off and settled down for the last night in camp.

  *

  In the tent of the Amazons, Nancy poked at Peggy. “Look here, Peg,” she whispered, “If you squeak when I wake you, I’ll never speak to you again.”

  *

  There was a whisper in Roger’s tent also.

  “Titty.” A hand reached out under the tent wall and felt about till it met another groping hand. “Have you got hold of it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t go and pull too hard. I can’t spare a toe.”

  “All right. I won’t. And don’t you pull too hard either.”

  “Is that you, Titty?” John had heard the whispering.

  “Good night,” said Titty.

  “Good night,” said John.

  In the darkness of her tent Titty tied her end of Roger’s bit of string tightly round her thumb. It was not too easy to tie it one-handed in the dark, and she knew before it was done why Roger had tied his end round a toe instead. But it was done at last. She gave a gentle tug. A tug, not quite so gentle, answered her. She lay down with the tied thumb outside the sleeping bag. With the other hand she reached out and felt a small pile of things beside her. Yes, she had forgotten nothing. She firmly sent herself to sleep.

  CHAPTER XXIX

  PACKING UP

  JOHN STIRRED IN his sleeping bag. There was sunlight on the walls of his tent. Time to get up? He pulled the bag closer round his chin. A spider at the end of an invisible thread was dangling in the doorway. It dropped a few inches. He watched it climbing again, spinning as it climbed. There was sunlight outside. Yet he woke with a queer feeling of gloom. It was like waking on the day after he had written parvissimus instead of minimus in an examination paper. Something had gone wrong. Suddenly he remembered what it was. The expedition had failed. They would be embarking that day and sailing home with the map unfinished, the North West Passage undiscovered and the North East Passage, that would make Peewitland an island, still no more than guessed at. Nancy had failed him … even as he thought of it he could not help smiling at the thought of what she had done instead and at the memory of the savages ringed, streaked and spotted in their war-paint of mud. Titty had failed him … no, that was not quite fair … he ought to have seen her patteran. … Still, the result of Titty’s private exploration had been that he had not had time to do what he had planned … and very nearly there had been a worse disaster. The skin on the back of his hands tickled with horror as he thought of those idiots letting themselves get caught by the rising tide. … If only they had done what they had been told to do, they would have been in the camp when he and Susan had got home and he would have been able to make a dart for the North West Passage to get that question settled before Nancy and her savages took charge. And now the map would have to be left unfinished till they came again, if ever they did come again. And it wasn’t as if the unexplored bits were well away in the corners where they would be natural, almost right. There they were, bang in the middle, on the very shores of the Secret Water, spoiling everything. Islands, or mainland? … Who could tell? No one had had time to go and see.

  Daddy would be disappointed… and then John remembered that Daddy, too, was under orders. He might be disappointed about the map but he would be still more disappointed if he were to come sailing in with the relief ship and find that he had been failed by John and that the explorers were not ready with tents packed, ready to go instantly aboard.

  What time was it? He pushed his sleeping bag down to his knees, and kicking free from it, crawled out of his tent. John went to have a look at the meal-dial. The shadow had not reached the breakfast peg by several inches. He grabbed bucket, soap and towel, and had a hurried wash at the edge of the pond.

  “Stuffy little beasts,” he said to himself on seeing the door flaps of Roger’s tent and of Titty’s, hanging down instead of being tied back to let in air.

  He dressed, rolled up his sleeping bag and night things, slackened the guy ropes of his tent, jerked out the tent pegs, laid the posts aside and rolled up tent and groundsheet.

  Susan put her head out. “’Sh!” she said. “Bridget’s still asleep.”

  “She’ll jolly soon have to get up,” said John. “Goblin’s coming and every single thing’s got to be packed and ready. I’m just going to wake the others.”

  “Give them as long as you can,” said Susan. “They’ll only wake Bridgie. Let me get breakfast going first.”

  “What’s the time?”

  “Half past seven. Here’s Nancy’s watch. Hang it on the totem so it won’t get forgotten.”

  “I’ll be lighting the fire, while you’re getting up. But buck up. I’ve left the bucket by the pond.”

  There was no trouble today in finding fuel. Charred sticks lying in the still warm ashes of the savages’ bonfire were piled together over a handful of reeds in Susan’s fireplace and burst instantly into a blaze.

  Bridget put her head out. “Isn’t it time to get up?” she said.

  “Good,” said John. “She’s awake anyhow. Take your toothbrush and come along. There’s only time to slosh two buckets over you. We’ve got to get everything packed. Go on, Susan. Blow your whistle. Gosh! I wish we had a ship’s bell. Ahoy, everybody! Wake up, Captain Nancy! Kick your mate out! Roger! Titty! Heave out,
you able-seamen! Show a leg!”

  He stooped by the door of Titty’s tent, reached in, got a good hold of the foot in her sleeping bag and hauled mightily, thinking to drag it out with Titty in it. He nearly fell, for the bag came very easily. There was nothing in it. Clinging to it with all its claws was a startled kitten, which, after one anxious moment, recovered its dignity, stood up, blinking in the sunlight, and began to stretch itself.

  “Hullo!” said John. “Titty’s up already. Out you come, Roger!”

  There was no answer, and looking in he saw that Roger’s tent was also empty.

  John looked into the tent of the Amazons. Lumps in the sleeping bags showed where the explorers lay.

  “Nancy!” he shouted. “Get up. We’ve the whole camp to pack.”

  There was no answer.

  “Let me cold-sponge her,” said Bridget, hopping round holding up her pyjamas with one hand and squeezing a sponge in the other.

  “Go ahead,” said John.

  “But they aren’t there,” said Bridget a moment later.

  “Of course they are,” said John.

  “They aren’t,” said Bridget. “Look. They’ve just stuffed things in their bags to look as if they were.”

  “Bother them,” said John. “This isn’t April Fool’s Day. But it’s a good thing everybody’s up. They were jolly quiet about it.”

  “Where are they?” said Susan.

  “They’ll have gone down to have a last wallow,” said John.

  He emptied the bucket over Bridget twice and a third time for luck and then set to work at the stores tent, slacking the guy ropes and pulling up the pegs. He saw Susan looking at a lot of bowls and saucers still dirty from last night’s eel stew.

  “Oh gosh! I’d forgotten. All yesterday’s washing up to do. Don’t worry about cornflakes. Give them boiled eggs they can hold in their fingers. We’re only just going to have time.”

  “All right,” said Susan. “Two eggs apiece. You can eat two? Bridget? Done your teeth? Call that face washed?”

  “Yes,” said Bridget, “and so it is.”

  “Mother won’t say so. You come along here and bring the bucket.”

  “Ow,” said Bridget. “You’re tearing the skin off my forehead.”

  “What on earth did Daisy use last night,” said Susan. “You’re going to have that eel on your forehead for the rest of your life.”

  “Oh leave it for now,” said John. “We’ll get it off when we get home. But do let’s have everything waiting when the ship comes in. Look here. Can I be taking down your tent? Skip to it Bridgie and pack your knapsack.”

  “I say,” said Susan, ferreting among the stores, “who on earth mixed sugar and biscuits and cornflakes all together?” Titty had forgotten to tell her how the Egyptians had found fuel for the fire in the middle of the Red Sea. “And, what’s happened to the chocolate? I’m sure we had more than two slabs left, even after the feast. And I didn’t think anybody ate bananas last night.”

  John looked round, puzzled. “What’s become of my compass?” he said.

  “Oh dear,” said Susan. “This is going to be as bad as packing to go to Holly Howe. Everybody always loses something at the last minute. The compass’ll turn up when we get other things packed. Let’s get breakfast over. Eggs are ready. …” She blew a long blast on her whistle.

  She was answered only by a startled curlew and a sudden stir of gulls along the saltings.

  “Blow again,” said Bridget.

  “Ahoy! Breakfast!” shouted John. “Look here, Susan. I’ll go down and chivvy them up.”

  *

  Five minutes later he was coming back from the landing place, feeling pretty cross with everybody in the expedition except Susan and Bridget, who, at least, were where they ought to be.

  “Boats gone,” he said gloomily, scraping the mud off his boots against a clump of grass.

  “Both boats?” said Susan.

  “Yes,” said John. “I bet Nancy put them up to it. The whole lot must have gone off to say ‘Goodbye’ to the Mastodon.”

  “Well, their eggs are getting cold,” said Susan.

  “They won’t care,” said John. “The Mastodon’ll make them stay to breakfast, and they’ll take ages over it, and, oh gosh! do look at the time. And their tents still to do, and the Goblin’ll be in sight before they’ve begun to pack.”

  “I think they might have invited us,” said Bridget.

  “They jolly well knew we wouldn’t go,” said John, “They know we’ve got to have everything packed.”

  “Come and eat your breakfast, anyhow,” said Susan.

  Susan, John, Bridget and Sinbad breakfasted almost in silence. Bridget talked to Sinbad, but not much. John and Susan kept looking, now at the things to be packed, the tents still to be dismantled, the whole camp that had somehow to be turned into packages for quick and easy stowage, and now towards the landing place, expecting every moment to see the others hurrying home.

  Three small white sails showed at the mouth of the creek.

  “It’s the Eels,” said Bridget.

  A few minutes later the three savages were splashing across the saltings.

  “Karabadangbaraka,” they shouted.

  “Akarabgnadabarak!” said the explorers.

  “Where’s Nancy?” said Daisy. “Where’s everybody? I say, White Chief, we’re awfully sorry about yesterday. I mean about there being no time to go round Peewit. We’d have gone if we’d known it was the last day. But Nancy said she thought you were going to stay a lot longer. …”

  “It’s all right,” said John as cheerfully as he could. “We’ll fill that bit in next year. The bit I didn’t do matters just as much. More, really.”

  “What about that eel on my forehead?” said Bridget. “Susan tried to scrape it off and it won’t come.”

  Daisy looked critically at last night’s work. “It’s not a bad eel,” she said.

  “But what did you do it with?” said Susan. “Soap doesn’t seem to touch it at all.”

  “Red paint,” said Daisy. “It’ll come off with a spot of turpentine. And so’ll all the gore on her frock. It’s only a small eel. I had an awful time last summer, but that was when we tried tattooing, and Dum and Dee painted eels all over me. You should have heard the missionaries afterwards.”

  “But where are the others?” asked Dum and Dee together, rather as if they wanted to change the subject.

  “Gone to say ‘Goodbye’ to the Mastodon,” said John. “And they jolly well ought not to have gone. Daddy’ll be here in another half hour.”

  “I’ll go and tell them to come back,” said Dum.

  “Here’s the Mastodon,” said Dee.

  “Karabadangbaraka!” said the Mastodon, stamping his muddy boots.

  “Akarab-gand-abarak,” said Daisy.

  “Gnad … gnad …” said Bridget. “I was listening to see if you’d say it.”

  Daisy fiercely clamped her teeth. “We didn’t eat enough of you last night,” she said. “Nothing but chops and steaks. I never thought about taking a nice bit of tongue. Wish I had.”

  “What are the others hanging about for?” said John.

  “Haven’t seen them,” said the Mastodon.

  “WHAT? Then where are they? They’ve gone off in both boats. Nancy really is a bit too thick, and Titty and Roger ought to have more sense. We’ve got the whole camp to pack and they know it. And Daddy said there wouldn’t be a minute to lose, and he wanted us to have the stuff all ready in the boats.”

  “I say,” said Dum. “You know your relief ship. What colour is her sail?”

  “Dark red.”

  “I thought it was. There’s a dark red Bermuda sail coming in from the sea now. We saw her in the distance.”

  There was a stampede along the dyke to the point from which, looking east, they could see the open sea. Far away out there, a triangle of red sail was moving in towards the outer buoys.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s the Goblin,” said
John.

  He looked up and down the Secret Water. Not another sail was in sight. “Every single thing’s gone wrong,” he said bitterly. “We’ve failed with the map, and now Daddy’s coming for us, and nothing’s ready.”

  “Come on,” said the Mastodon. “We’ll help. All hands to stow the camp.”

  “Wriggle, you Eels,” said Daisy. “We’ll have the camp stowed in two flicks of a fin.”

  There was a general rush back to the camp. Four savages and three explorers hurled themselves upon tents, stores and bedding. Down came Roger’s tent, Titty’s, and the bigger tent of the Amazons. John and Susan, packing hard, hurried from group to group to explain just how the folding had to be done, when the tents were ready to be stuffed into their bags. Susan for once had no hand in washing up. Daisy and her brothers were not, perhaps, as thorough as Susan would have liked. But there the things were, washed, and one of the Eels was giving a final wipe to the last of the mugs with the camp dishcloth. “What about all these eggs?” said Daisy. “I don’t know,” said Susan. “Empty the water out of the saucepan, and put them back in it. It’s their own fault if they aren’t here for breakfast. Bridget, do go and see if you can see them.”

  The Mastodon shouldered the long heavy bundle of the Amazons’ tent.

  “No good taking things down to the landing place till they bring the boats back,” said John. “They’ll only get all over mud.”

  “We’ll put them into our own boats,” said the Mastodon.

  “The relief ship comes for the explorers, and the savages ferry things off in their war canoes,” said Daisy.

  “It’ll save a lot of time,” said Susan. “But I do wish they’d turn up.”

  To and fro, to and fro, explorers and savages staggered to the landing place, dumped tents and bags and boxes and water cans into the boats of the savages, and splashed hurriedly back over the marshy saltings.

  Bridget came running to the camp. “I can’t see them anywhere,” she said. “And it is the Goblin. Where’s the telescope?”