Page 25 of Winter Holiday


  Roger went out to keep watch for them on deck, but found it cold, and came back into the cabin, to have another look at the cabin table and the piles of oranges and chocolates and a huge cake covered with white icing, a perfect snowfield, on which eight small Eskimos, with three sledges, were gathered round a tall candle that served for a North Pole. Captain Flint had planned a regular banquet to celebrate Nancy’s return. Peggy and Titty were peeling potatoes. Susan had had trouble with a Primus stove, and Captain Flint was showing her how to unscrew the pump and put a new washer on the plunger. John was looking into Peary’s North Pole in hope of finding something useful for tomorrow’s journey.

  The half-hour passed, and another half-hour, and another after that. At first it had not seemed to matter much that the D.’s were a bit late, because, after all, the council would not begin till Nancy arrived. But, as the hands on the cabin clock moved slowly round, the thing became rather more serious.

  “Look here, John,” said Captain Flint, at last, when he saw the cooks getting ready to put the huge plum-pudding into the biggest of the saucepans. “Look here, John, what about slipping along to Dixon’s and routing those two out? Nancy won’t be starting just yet, but we don’t want to have her here before them. I thought we might go to meet her. Anyhow, she ought to find the lot of us together, ready to give her a cheer.”

  “I’ll have them here in two shakes,” said John, grabbed his skates, and was gone.

  *

  Ten minutes went by, a quarter of an hour, and then Titty, who, after finishing her share of the potatoes, was taking a last look into Nansen’s Farthest North, found that she could hardly read.

  “It’s awfully dark,” she said.

  “Here they are,” said Roger, at the same moment, flinging open the cabin door as he heard skates being dumped on deck, and a step on the ladder.

  But it was John alone.

  “They aren’t at the farm,” he said, without coming into the cabin. “I say, just look at the sky.”

  “What is it?” said Peggy.

  “Just have a look,” said John.

  Everybody crowded out of the door. There was something in John’s voice that made even Susan leave her cooking for a moment.

  “Snow,” said Captain Flint, after one look out of the cabin door at the grey cloud that was sweeping over the little bay and darkening the whole sky.

  “Look at everybody bolting,” said Roger.

  The skaters at the end of Long Island, who could be seen from Houseboat Bay, were hurrying away towards Rio. Already the ice was almost clear of them.

  “Here it comes,” said Captain Flint. “Half a jiffy while I put a cowl on the stovepipe. We don’t want the fire put out.” He dived down again, went through the cabin, and came up by the forehatch with a black metal cowl to keep the snow from coming down into the stove. He fixed it on the pipe, and came aft along the gangway outside.

  “It must be coming down pretty hard at the foot of the lake already,” he said. “What did you say about those two?”

  “They aren’t at the farm,” said John.

  “Well, wherever they are now, I hope they’ll stay put,” said Captain Flint.

  “Hullo, there’s a snowflake,” cried Roger.

  “Lots of them,” said Titty.

  Captain Flint dodged into the cabin and looked at the clock.

  “Well, there’s one thing about it,” he said. “It’s come before Nancy’ll have started. It’s not twelve o’clock yet, and she’s got sense enough not to start with it looking like this. Her mother wouldn’t let her, anyway.”

  The first few flakes seemed harmless enough, but almost before Roger had had time to catch one in his hand, the air was white with them, not just floating down like feathers, but driving sideways in a hard wind. The snow drove along the decks and lodged in every crevice and piled itself against the cabin walls. It drove into Titty’s hair and inside Roger’s jacket. Peggy shook her head as she felt it melting and trickling down her neck. John had to screw his eyes up tight as he peered into the wind. Nobody could stand without stooping to meet the harder gusts.

  “It doesn’t look like stopping,” said Captain Flint. “We shan’t see Nancy today.”

  “No council!” said Titty.

  “No banquet!” said Roger.

  “We’ll have the banquet all right,” said Captain Flint, “and we’ll have another for Nancy.”

  “She’ll be most awfully mad if she can’t come today,” said Peggy.

  “Well, just look at it,” said Captain Flint.

  “Don’t bring a lot of snow into the cabin,” said Susan. “Come on in, Roger. Shake off as much as you can first.”

  In those few moments breastplates of driven snow had formed on the fronts of jackets and sweaters. Roger tried to get his off all in one piece.

  “You can’t see the island,” he said.

  “You can’t even see the shores of the bay,” said Titty.

  “It’s worse than a fog,” said Peggy.

  “Be quick,” said Susan. “Let’s get the door shut.”

  It was midday, but she was lighting the cabin lamp, and was bothered by the wild wind even in the cabin.

  “I do hope those two have the sense to keep under cover till this is over,” said Captain Flint, stamping his feet, and sweeping the snow off his bald head, as he came in after taking a last look round. “This may last for some time. Nancy’ll be all right at Beckfoot. But I’m bothered about those two.”

  “They’re very good at thinking of things,” said Titty.

  “Well, I hope they think of staying indoors,” said Captain Flint. “This is a blizzard, or something very like one, and if it goes on long we’ll be having the roads choked and there’ll be no moving about to be done without a snow plough. Who was at the farm, John?”

  “Mrs Dixon had just come back from Rio, and she said they were getting ready to start just after breakfast. At least, Dorothea was, and Dick had run up to the old barn . . .”

  Captain Flint slapped his knee.

  “Can they see Beckfoot from up there?” he asked. “Could they see Nancy’s joy flag?”

  “Easily,” said John. “Dick always uses a telescope.”

  “That’s what’s happened,” said Captain Flint. “They’ve spotted poor old Nancy’s signal, and gone straight across there to see what she wanted.”

  “It’s just what they would do,” said Titty.

  “Your mother wouldn’t be too pleased,” said Captain Flint to Peggy, “but, after all, she could let them run about the garden or something till the disinfecting was over.”

  “Nancy’d be bursting to talk to them,” said Peggy.

  “That’s what’s happened,” said Captain Flint. “They’re all right, sitting at Beckfoot with Nancy, trying to get a word in once every ten minutes. We shan’t see any of them till this is over, so we’d better be getting on with this banquet. We can’t starve, even for their sakes.”

  “Well, it splits the council in half,” said Peggy. “With all of us here, and Nancy talking to the D.’s. She’ll tell them everything, so you may as well spit it out, too.”

  “Let’s get at the food,” said Captain Flint. He was a good deal happier at the thought that those two unpractical D.’s were not getting into trouble somewhere, but were sitting at Beckfoot having dinner and talking to Nancy.

  The snow-covered cake with the eight explorers round the sugar Pole was a melancholy reminder that not all plans work out as they are intended, but Peggy and the four Swallows settled down with Captain Flint to see that the banquet was not wasted altogether. Outside, the blizzard might rage and the whole world be muffled and blinded by flying snow, but in there, in the cabin of the Fram, with the stove burning strongly, and cold turkey, and Christmas plum-pudding (that Captain Flint set on fire in the fo’c’sle and brought in triumphantly flaming on its plate), and mugs of hot tea, and oranges, and the fine smell of burnt chestnuts mixing with the smell of the pudding, everybody was snug an
d comfortable. It was sad that so many of the explorers were not there, but a good thing in a way, because, with those two to keep her company, Nancy would not mind so much having her first afternoon of freedom spoilt by the snowstorm. Anyway, nothing could be done about it. Tomorrow the sledges would be on their way over the trackless ice. Tomorrow, as explorers, they would march steadily towards the Pole. Tomorrow, as dogs, they would strain gallantly at the ropes. Today, in the Fram, warm and secure in the midst of the blizzard, they sat and feasted and made plans, or rather heard what Nancy and Captain Flint had planned together. There were no serious disagreements. There would be three sledges: the big Beckfoot sledge in charge of Peggy and the Swallows, the Dixon’s farm sledge in charge of the D.’s, and Captain Flint’s small sledge with Nancy in command and Captain Flint to help her.

  “Nancy’s got much the strongest dog,” said Roger, between two sucks at an orange, after the bulk of the banquet was done.

  “Thank you,” said Captain Flint.

  “It’s only fair,” said John. “Think of all the practice we’ve had.”

  “And when we get to the Pole?” said Roger.

  “See when you get there,” said Captain Flint, “if you do get there . . . if any of us get there . . . We can’t go if it’s like this,” he added, looking out of the cabin windows at the white snow driving by.

  All afternoon the blizzard raged outside. It was not until it was already growing dark, and Susan had long been looking anxiously at the clock, that the snow stopped falling and the wind dropped; and Captain Flint, after taking a look round from the deck, said they had better take their chance and get back to Holly Howe.

  “The wind’s swept the ice for you,” he said, “but there’ll be deep drifts on shore. I’ll come with you, just to see you can get up the field. And then I’m off to Beckfoot to comfort poor old Nancy and bring the D.’s home.”

  The ice was dark in the twilight, blown clear of snow by the tremendous wind. But the little trees on the northern point of Houseboat Bay looked as if they were wading in snow. There was another big drift against the rocks of Darien, but luckily, the path going up the field from the Holly Howe boathouse was sheltered and clear. Just at the top of the field they had a bit of a scramble through the snow to get to the garden gate, and then there was the great fire in the parlour and the lamp already lit for them, and a kettle boiling, and Mrs Jackson saying what a storm it had been, and what a lucky thing it was they had not been out in the worst of it.

  “Those two children from Dixon’s Farm haven’t looked in, have they?” asked Captain Flint.

  “Not since this morning, Mr Turner,” said Mrs Jackson. “I’ve seen never a sign of them since the lad put his nose in and was off again when I told him what a hurry there was here with Miss Nancy signalling to them and all.”

  “Did you see which way he went?” asked Captain Flint.

  “I didn’t,” said Mrs Jackson. “He just put his head in at my kitchen door and was gone.”

  “They’ll be still at Beckfoot,” said Captain Flint. “I’ll be off there at once.” Nothing would make him stop even for a cup of Mrs Jackson’s tea, and without waiting a moment he was away out of the farm-house and hurrying down the field to the lake.

  Mrs Jackson had the usual huge tea ready for them, a tea that was a supper as well. Everybody was hungry, in spite of the banquet in the Fram, but Roger, Titty, and Peggy did most of the talking. John and Susan had seen that Captain Flint had gone off almost as if he had begun to worry about the D.’s again. What if Dick and Dorothea had not gone to Beckfoot after all?

  And then John took the lantern and slipped off into the dark. He told only Susan where he was going.

  “You never know with those two,” he said. “They may have been in the igloo all the time, and got themselves snowed up or something.”

  “But you won’t be able to get there,” said Susan.

  “Yes, I will,” said John, “keeping to the walls. And I’m taking a long stick to prod into the drifts.”

  “Why not get Mr Jackson to come too?”

  “He’s out, already, after his sheep.”

  “Let me come.”

  “If you don’t stay to keep them quiet, we’ll be having Roger and Titty coming after us. Remember that night at the Fram.”

  Susan hesitated. That night was not a comfortable memory.

  John was gone. She watched the lantern going fast up the field, not along the track, but close along the wall. She watched it swing and lift and vanish as John climbed over into the road. It showed again as he crossed the wall on the other side of the road. It vanished, and then glimmered again, going slowly, slowly up the hillside towards the wood.

  Susan sighed. John, she supposed, perhaps knew best. But she did wish those two D.’s had had the sense to obey orders, and to come to the Fram. What was the good of signalling if people did not do what they were told? She went back into the farm, and helped Roger and Titty, who were busy greasing their skates and getting their Arctic outfits ready for the morning, while Peggy was making a list of the things that must not be left behind.

  It was just about time for the younger explorers to go to bed when there was stamping in the porch, and they heard Captain Flint’s voice in the passage.

  “Mrs Jackson,” he was saying, “can you lend me a lantern? I’ve got to get along to the Dixons’, and I don’t want to go head first into a snowdrift.”

  “Where are the D.’s?” shouted Peggy and Roger, running out to talk to him.

  “He hasn’t found them,” said Titty.

  “They haven’t been at Beckfoot,” said Captain Flint.

  “What about Nancy?” said Peggy.

  “She’s all right,” said Captain Flint. “Making up for being kept at home by burning, destroying, and disinfecting all day. You’d think a gang of pirates had sacked the place, to look at it.”

  “It’s a funny thing,” said Mrs Jackson, coming in again. “But I can’t find that lantern.”

  “Oh,” said Susan. “John’s got it.” She stopped, and then, thinking that no harm could be done now, she went on, “He’s gone up to the igloo, to see if the D.’s are up there.”

  “Good lad,” said Captain Flint.

  “And he never took us,” said Roger.

  “Traitor!” said Peggy.

  “There’s another lantern in the byre,” said Mrs Jackson. “I’ll just give it a wipe over.”

  “Never mind about that,” said Captain Flint. “I expect those two are back at the Dixons’, but I want to make sure.”

  “He’s in an awful hurry,” said Titty, as they heard the gate clang behind him.

  “I do wish John was back,” said Susan.

  Captain Flint had hardly had time to get well on his way along the road to Dixon’s Farm before John came stumbling in, out of breath and covered with snow where he had fallen in the drifts.

  “Quick, Susan!” he said. “Quick! There’s no time to lose. We’ve got to start at once. I must put some fresh oil in the lantern.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “I got to the igloo all right. Nobody there. And then I thought of their barn. It was a job getting there. There was nobody in the barn, but I could just see their signal. I hauled it down to make sure. It must have been up there all day.”

  “What? What did it say?”

  “North Pole,” said John. “They’ve gone there.”

  “It was Fram, this morning,” said Titty. “I wonder when they changed it.”

  “What’s ado?” said Mrs Jackson.

  “Dorothea and Dick were out in the blizzard. They’ve gone to . . . Peggy knows where they’ve gone. Come on, Peggy. We must go after them at once. Please, tell Captain Flint, Mr Turner, I mean. Tell him they started out for the north by themselves, and we’ve gone to the rescue. We must have some more oil in the lantern. It went out as I was coming down the field. Come on, Peggy. You know the place.”

  Peggy was already flinging a muffler round her thro
at and cramming on her rabbit-skin hat.

  “If they got caught in the blizzard,” said Susan, “almost anything may have happened.” In spite of herself she glanced at Titty and Roger, and was thankful that these two, at least, were safely at home.

  Not a second was wasted. John was getting the lantern filled and explaining to Mrs Jackson. Peggy was loading sheepskins on the sledge. Who could tell how cold those D.’s might be? Susan was filling three thermos flasks with hot tea. “They may be starving,” she said, “and it isn’t as if Dorothea ever really knew what to do.”

  If it had been Mrs Dixon they would probably never have been allowed to set out. But Mrs Jackson’s mind moved more slowly, “Don’t you go too far,” she said and, “You won’t be long.”

  “If Uncle Jim comes back here, tell him North Pole,” said Peggy. “He’ll understand.”

  “But what are you going to do?” asked Roger.

  “Relief expedition,” said John. “We’ve got to fetch them back. Hurry up, Susan. We must get down on the ice. The roads are awful with snow.”

  They were gone.

  “It isn’t fair,” said Roger.

  “Our things are all ready,” said Titty.

  Mrs Jackson was tidying away the supper things between parlour and scullery.

  “Well,” she said presently, “and what about bed for you two?”

  There was no answer.

  “Funny I never saw them go,” she said. “But with Miss Susan they’ll come to no harm.”

  Captain John and Mates Peggy and Susan took the sledge down to the lake, slid it out on the ice, put on their skates by the light of the lantern, and set out.

  They had left Holly Howe Bay and were working along near the shore, past the boatbuilding sheds, when they heard a faint shout behind them, “Stop! Stop!”

  They looked back and saw a spark of light swinging to and fro.

  “Bother it!” said Susan. “Roger’s torch. I ought to have made them promise to go to bed and stay there.”

  There was nothing for it but waiting.

  “Do hang on a minute while I get my skate straight,” said Roger, as they came up. “I did it on too quick and Titty didn’t hold the torch still enough.”