Secret Water

  “Of course I can,” said Roger.

  “Go up then, and have a look at the water the other side of the mud.”

  Roger was up the mast in a minute, and hung on there looking out.

  “Just water,” he said.

  “Isn’t it nearer than it was?”

  Roger watched. “Of course it is,” he said at last. “Tide’s rising.”

  “Then there must be another way out,” said Titty. “Or how does the tide get at it? Where does the water come from?”

  There was no answer to that. From the masthead it was easy to see that there were two sheets of water creeping towards each other over the mudflats. One was the water that had brought them so far. The other was coming to meet it.

  “How soon’ll they meet?” said Roger. “Look here, I can’t hang on for ever, I’m coming down.”

  “We’re going to get through,” said Titty.

  Inch by inch the waters came nearer to each other. The Wizard stirred, floated, moved on and stopped again. Titty, busy with her map, sketched in as well as she could as much of the coastline as she could see. Roger watched.

  “I’ve been at that creek,” he said. “But it doesn’t go through. John hoped it did but it doesn’t.”

  “Did he mark it on his map?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” said Titty. “That’ll help,” and she carefully took a compass bearing of the deep cleft in the coastline. “South-east,” she said, drew a line and pencilled the bearing beside it.

  Inch by inch the water, not deep enough to float the Wizard, crept on to meet the water that was spreading on the further side of the mud. The wide mudbank that had divided them shrank and shrank. It became a narrow isthmus, joining two sheets of mud. It was an isthmus no longer. The waters met across it.

  “Roger,” said Titty. “That’s the way we’ll have to go. Towards the place that other water’s coming from. About north-east.”

  “She’s moving. … No. Stuck again. … She’s moving. Let’s get the sail up, to blow her across as soon as she can float.”

  They hoisted the sail, and because the rudder was lower than the keel, they unshipped it, and made ready to steer with an oar.

  “Whatever happens we mustn’t smash the rudder again,” said Roger.

  Every few minutes the boat stopped, moved on and stopped again. Suddenly she was off, moving steadily, faster and faster.

  “North-east,” said Titty. “North-east. Keep her steady with an oar. I’m putting the rudder back. We’re off.”

  “Deeper water,” said Roger. “And we don’t need the centreboard with the wind aft.”

  “We’ll do it,” cried Titty. “We’ll do it.”

  Faster and faster the little boat slipped along over the smooth water. The entrance by Shelduck Island was very far away. But there was no sign yet of any other opening. On port bow and on starboard the land was coming nearer. Even Titty began to fear that the two lines of the land were all one and that they were simply running into a bay. And time was going on. If they had to turn back, would they ever be able to get home to the camp before the Goblin came sailing in, when everything had to be packed and ready? “Oh gosh!” said Titty to herself. “Have I gone and made a mess of things again?” And then she remembered that though now the water was all one there had been two separate sheets of it, and though one had come in past Shelduck Island, the other must have come from somewhere else.

  “Weeds ahead,” cried Roger. “Lots of them.”

  “I know,” said Titty.

  “Dykes,” cried Roger. “I say, Titty. … We’ll have to turn back.”

  “Keep her going as she is,” said Titty.

  “Aye, aye, sir. … As she is.”

  The little boat ran on. Clumps of weed were sticking up out of the water to right, to left and straight ahead. The usual dyke, built up to protect the land from flooding, was coming nearer. It looked as if there could be no way through.

  “There’s a gap,” said Titty. “Those two dykes don’t join.”

  “We’ll be aground in another minute,” said Roger.

  “Marshes right across,” said Titty.

  “Shall I turn round?”

  “Yes. … No. … Wait a minute. … Keep her as she is. … I can see water on the other side.

  Nearer and nearer they came to the marshes, lumps of mud edged with green slime, with narrow trickles of water, and tall weeds. There were little openings everywhere, but no proper channel. Not one of the tiny creeks seemed to go more than a few yards into the marsh.

  Roger pointed. “That one’s the biggest.”

  “Or that one,” said Titty.

  There was hardly time to choose. Hummocks of slimy mud were on either side of them. The narrow ditch, one of dozens, in which they found themselves, bent to the right, then left, then right again. They felt the Wizard graze the mud. She touched and touched again and stuck.

  “Oh gosh!” said Roger, “and there isn’t even room to turn her round.”

  “We’ve got to go on,” said Titty. “There’s open water the other side if we can only get her across.”

  They stepped out of the boat and, their feet slipping and sinking in the mud, tried to lift her on.

  Roger staggered across one of the hummocks to look at another winding ditch. “I say, Titty,” he called. “It’s still pouring in. It must be ages before high water.”

  “Oh gosh!” said Titty. “I only hope it is. The camp’s got to be packed by high water and if we’re not back before they get up they’ll be in an awful stew.”

  “Will Daddy wait for us?” said Roger.

  “We’ve got to be back before he comes,” said Titty. For one dreadful moment she saw the marooned explorers waiting on the shore, two able-seamen missing, the relief ship sailing in, and John doing his best to explain. But how could he, when he did not know where they were? And they could go neither back nor forward, but were stuck here, within sight of open water.

  And then, suddenly, she saw that all these tall rank weeds growing on the marshes had rings stained on their stalks.

  “Roger,” she said. “All this is going to be under water. We’ve only got to wait.”

  “But have we got time?” said Roger. “Look here. Hadn’t I better get to dry land, and go and signal to them for help?”

  “Oh no. No,” said Titty. “You’d only get stuck in the mud. And anyway, what could they do? We’ve just got to wait till the water rises.”

  “All right,” said Roger. He took the telescope. “I say, there are terns over there. Diving. … Having their breakfasts.”

  “You’ve had yours,” said Titty. “You’re not hungry again!”

  “Not exactly,” said Roger, and pulled the end of his belt a little further through its buckle.

  “We’ve only got to wait,” said Titty again. “Some of those hummocks are already under water. Look here. She’s in an awful mess. Let’s get some of the mud off her inside.”

  Inch by inch the water rose. The marshes turned into a lot of tiny islands. Weeds were standing in water. Titty, looking ahead, tried to fix in her mind where the water had showed first. There it would be deepest.

  The little boat stirred, stirred again, and, with the sail still set, began to slip forward.

  “I’ll steer just till we’re through,” said Titty. “You keep a look out.”

  The boat moved on, Titty steering to avoid the places where the weeds were thickest. It was like steering through a flooded field and trying not to hit the clumps of thistles.

  Suddenly Roger shouted. “A sail! A sail! I say Titty, they’ve spotted we’ve gone and John’s come to look for us.”

  LIKE STEERING THROUGH A FLOODED FIELD

  Titty groaned. That was the very worst thing that could have happened. If John had done that then the camp would not be packed in time, and the Goblin would come in to find nothing ready. Everything would have gone wrong, and once again good intentions would have come to a bad end.

  ?
??It’s not John,” said the look out. “It’s the Amazons. He’s sent them instead.”

  “Gosh! I wish I knew what the time was,” said Titty.

  The weeds were fewer in the water and lower. Twice the boat had touched but had not stopped.

  “We’re through,” shouted Roger. “We’ve done it. I can see our island, and the native kraal.”

  “Come and steer,” said Titty. She looked at the compass. “South. That’s good enough. You steer and I’ll get it down on the chart.”

  The other boat was beating to meet them. Peggy was steering, Nancy flourishing a paper.

  “Ahoy!” she shouted. “We’ve done it. Circumnavigated Peewit. So that bit’s all right. John’ll get his map done after all.”

  Titty waved her own.

  “We’ve discovered the North West Passage,” she shouted. “What time is it?”

  “Don’t know. Susan’s got my watch. I say, you haven’t been right round?”

  “Yes, we have,” shouted Roger. “We had breakfast before sunrise.”

  “We didn’t have any,” said Peggy.

  “We didn’t want any,” said Nancy firmly, and then, “Look here. We’ll race you home.”

  Roger looked at Titty. She was the better steersman and he knew it.

  “Go on, Roger,” said Titty. “Do the best you can. I’ve got to finish the map.”

  And so, neck and neck, the two expeditions raced down the creek towards the Secret Water.

  “Did you pack your tents?” called Nancy.

  “No.”

  “Neither did we.”

  “I say, Nancy,” said Titty, “there’s no tide. It must be high water.”

  “Barbecued Billygoats, don’t I know?” said Nancy. “But we can’t go any faster. They won’t mind when they know what we’ve done. And anyway the Goblin’s not in sight. …”

  But just then the two boats, side by side, shot out of the creek, and there was the Goblin, close at hand, beating up the Secret Water with the Blue Peter already fluttering from her crosstrees.

  “Gosh! Oh gosh!” said Titty.

  “Giminy!” said Nancy.

  “There they are. All of them,” said Roger. “The Eels and the Mastodon and everybody. … And the tents are gone. …”

  “Stick to your steering,” said Titty, and with fingers that would not keep steady, drew a line on her map that was meant to be straight but was not.

  CHAPTER XXXI

  FAREWELL TO THE EELS

  THE TWO SMALL boats crept into the creek together, Firefly half a boat’s length ahead.

  “We’d have won if you’d steered,” said Roger.

  “Couldn’t,” said Titty. “You did jolly well. And the map’s done … well, done enough to be added to the rest … and we’re not too late, and look, look, they’ve loaded the camp into Eels’ boats.” She crammed pencil and indiarubber in her pocket. “It’s going to be all right after all.” She looked back. The Goblin was already coming into the creek. Mother was steering, and Daddy was on the foredeck ready to drop the anchor. She looked ahead. All the four boats of the Eels were lying afloat, loaded to the gunwale, a savage at the oars in each boat. The tents had gone. John, Susan and Bridget were down at the landing place, the water lapping about their feet at the edge of the saltings. John was furiously beckoning. Bridget had Sinbad in her arms, and at the same time was trying to flap a handkerchief to welcome the relief ship. The saucepan must have been forgotten. Susan had it in her hand.

  “Saved,” said Nancy, who was by the mast of Firefly, all ready to lower sail. “Well done, the Eels!”

  “Wait till he’s anchored,” they heard the Mastodon say, as the boats of the savages were moving out to meet the Goblin. “Give him room to round up.”

  “Titty,” shouted John from the shore. “Get your sail down quickly.”

  “Turn her into the wind just a second, Rogie,” said Titty, “and then go straight for the landing. … NOW.”

  Down came the sail. Titty hauled up the centreboard and the Wizard slipped on and grounded at the landing place.

  “Look here, Titty,” said John. “It’s really rather too bad. You could have waited to go racing till we got back to Pin Mill. You knew Daddy was coming at High Tide. …”

  “Pipe down, skipper. Pipe down.” Firefly had slid in alongside and Nancy had hopped out. “She didn’t go out to race. Neither did we. They’ve done the North West Passage. We’ve done the North East. The map’s finished after all. Show him, Titty.” She flourished her map in John’s face. “We’ve only got to put them in. Peewit’s an island all right. So’s Blackberry. And who’s late anyhow? Nobody. Barbecued Billygoats! Don’t you see?”

  Titty said nothing. She simply handed John her map, with all the bearings marked, the coastline sketched in, and a row of dots marking the course of the Wizard through the gap and across the Northern Sea.

  John stared at it and then, as a long rattling noise showed that the Goblin’s anchor was down, he saw the boats of the savages, four of them, with all the gear of the camp aboard, shoot out from the shore. Everything was ready, just as Daddy said it should be. Not a minute was being lost. And, at the very last moment, failure had been turned into success. The whole map of the Secret Archipelago would be finished after all. There was nothing left to be done but to put the last bits in and to ink and colour it at home. He couldn’t speak, but grabbed Titty’s hand and shook it.

  “What about us?” said Nancy. There was joyful handshaking all round.

  “Did you have any breakfast?” asked Susan.

  “Are those eggs?” said Roger, taking the lid off Susan’s saucepan and looking to see what was inside.

  “Hard and cold,” said Susan.

  “Who cares?” said Nancy. “Deal ’em out.”

  “Be quick,” said Bridget. “We’re waiting for your boats. Sinbad wants to go aboard.”

  *

  The Goblin, rounding into the wind, had stopped moving.

  SPLASH. … Grrrrrrrrr. … The anchor chain ran out. Commander Walker made fast, hauled on the topping lift, and had time to look about him.

  “Well, Mary,” he said. “They’re a good lot. Tents struck and all ready. But how on earth have they managed to pick up such a lot of boats?”

  Four boats, deeply laden, were rowing out towards the Goblin. Two others were at the landing place where people were busily rolling up their sails.

  “But who are these?” said Mrs Walker. “I’ve counted all ours. Bridget, Susan, John, Titty, Roger and the Blackett girls. All ashore. But these …?”

  “Friends, I suppose,” said Commander Walker. “That’s why our rapscallions were sailing instead of packing. I was thinking I’d have to court martial them. But it looks to me as if they’d done exactly what I told them.”

  The four heavily laden boats came nearer.

  “Hullo!” said Commander Walker. “And who may you be?”

  Daisy stopped rowing, grinned as widely as she could, and pointed first at the Goblin, then at the bundles that almost filled her little boat, then at the explorers ashore and then at the Goblin again.

  She spoke.

  “Eelalog orusagoon.”

  “Beg your pardon,” said Commander Walker. “Say that again.”

  “Eelalog,” said Daisy, pointing to herself, “Orus,” pointing to the explorers at the landing place … “Agoon …”

  The other three had also stopped rowing, and were looking first at Daisy, and then at Mrs Walker.

  “Savages,” said Mrs Walker.

  “Of course,” said Commander Walker. “Might have known.” He hung a couple of fenders over the side, and pointed to them.

  “Savee?” he said. “Makee fast alongside. Plenty quick.”

  Daisy pulled her boat nearer, and gave rapid orders in an unknown tongue.

  “Catchee,” called Commander Walker and threw her a rope. “Hey. You. Makee fast.” He threw a rope to the quietly smiling Dum, and put over two more fenders on the other side.
Presently two of the savage boats were tied alongside. “Now then,” said the Commander. “Quick time topside all that. Plenty quick. Bimeby chow chow.” He turned to Mrs Walker. “Lucky you thought of bringing those bulls’ eyes.” And then, “You. Black fellow. Strong man. Makee fast astern. Come topside. Help stowee.”

  It was extraordinary how well the savages understood him.

  In almost less than no time, Goblin’s cockpit was crammed with rolls of bedding, tents in bags, and what not. Her decks were covered. Down below, Daisy and her brothers were stowing things, and talking together in a language which really sounded very like English, while Captain Walker and the Mastodon hove package after package down the companion way, and Mrs Walker was dumping things down the fore hatch, and, at the same time, watching the others at the landing place.

  The boats of the explorers were coming off now, sails stowed, masts lowered, and hard-boiled eggs not wasted after all.

  “Hullo, John,” said Daddy. “Good man. I thought you were running it a bit fine when I saw your sails as we were coming in, but I was wrong. Everything going like clockwork and not a minute wasted. Let’s have your painter.”

  John opened his mouth to speak and shut it again. After all, everything was all right. Nothing could have been smarter than the way in which the savages had brought tents and bedding and all the gear of the expedition alongside the Goblin the very moment her anchor had gone down.

  “Hullo, Bridget,” said her Mother. “I’ll take the kitten. Now then. One pull and up you come. Hullo, Susan. All well? No accidents?”

  “No need to ask,” said Daddy. “Look at them. … Well, John, how did you get on with your map? I don’t suppose you’ve had time to do much of it.”

  “Done it,” said John.

  “What? How much of it? I thought you said yesterday there was a lot to do.”

  “Only two bits,” said John. “Titty and Roger did one. Nancy and Peggy did the other. We’ll put them in on the way home.”