by Enid Blyton
‘Well, Philip,’ said Aunt Polly, shutting the lid of the old chest and turning to the boy with a troubled face, ‘Well, my boy, you mustn’t think I am making too much fuss – but the fact is, your mother hasn’t been at all well, and hasn’t been able to send nearly as much money for you as usual – and, you see, your school fees are rather high – and I’ve been a bit worried to know what to do. You are old enough now to realise that dear old Uncle Jocelyn is not much use in bearing responsibility for a household – and the bit of money I have soon goes.’
Philip listened in alarm. His mother was ill! Aunt Polly hadn’t been getting the money as usual – it all sounded very worrying to him.
‘What’s the matter with Mother?’ he asked.
‘Well – she’s very thin and run-down, and she’s got a dreadful cough, she says,’ answered Aunt Polly. ‘The doctors say she must have a long rest – by the sea if possible – but how can she give up her job?’
‘I shan’t go back to school,’ said Philip at once. ‘I shall find a job myself somehow. I can’t have Mother working herself to death for us.’
‘You can’t do that,’ said Aunt Polly. ‘Why, you are not even fourteen yet. No – now that I have a little money coming in from Mr Trent for these two children, it will ease things a good deal.’
‘This house is too big for you,’ said Philip, suddenly noticing how tired his aunt looked. ‘Aunt Polly, why do we have to live here? Why can’t we leave and take a nice little house somewhere, where you wouldn’t have to work so hard, and which wouldn’t be so lonely?’
‘I’d like to,’ said Aunt Polly, with a sigh, ‘but who would buy a place like this, half ruined and in such a wind-swept, desolate spot? And I should never be able to get your uncle to move. He loves this place, he loves this whole coast, and knows more about it than anyone else in the world. Well, well – it’s no good wishing this and that. We must just go on until you and Dinah are old enough to earn your living.’
‘Then I shall make a home for Mother, and she and Dinah and I will live together happily,’ thought Philip, as he followed his aunt downstairs to fetch the old mattress. He called to Jack, and the two boys, with much puffing and panting, got the awkward mattress up the narrow stairway. Kiki encouraged them with shrieks and squawks. Joe, the handyman, frowned at the noise. He seemed to think Kiki was directing her screeches at him, and, when she found that her noises annoyed him, she did her best to make him jump by unexpected squawks in his ear.
Joe was taking up a small table and Jack’s trunk. He set them down in the tower-room and looked out of the window. He seemed very bad-tempered, Philip thought. Not that he was good-tempered at any time – but he looked even sulkier than usual.
‘What’s up, Joe?’ said Philip, who was not in the least afraid of the sullen man. ‘Seeing things?’
The children had laughed over Joe’s idea that there were ‘things’ wandering about at night. Joe frowned.
‘Miss Polly shouldn’t use this room,’ he said. ‘No, that she shouldn’t, and I’ve telled her so. It’s a bad room. And you can see the Isle of Gloom from it too, when the mists lift – and it’s bad to look on the Isle of Gloom.’
‘Don’t be silly, Joe,’ said Philip, laughing.
‘Don’t be silly, Joe,’ repeated Kiki, in an exact imitation of Philip’s voice. Joe scowled at both boy and bird.
‘Well, you take my word, Master Philip, and don’t you go looking at the Isle of Gloom more than you can help. This is the only room you can see it from, and that’s why it’s a bad room. No good ever came from the Isle of Gloom. Bad men lived there, and bad deeds were done there, and wickedness came from the isle as long as anyone remembers.’
With this very weird warning the man departed down the stairs, his eyes angry, as he gazed back at the two boys with a scowl.
‘Pleasant fellow, isn’t he?’ said Philip, as he and Jack unrolled the mattress. ‘Half mad, I think. He must be daft to stay on here and do the work he does. He could get much more money anywhere else.’
‘What’s this Isle of Gloom he talks about?’ said Jack, going to the window. ‘What a weird name! I can’t see any island, Tufty.’
‘You hardly ever can see it,’ said Philip. ‘It lies right out there, to the west, and there is a reef of rocks round it over which waves continually break, flinging up spray. It seems always to have a mist hanging over it. No one lives there, though people used to, years and years ago.’
‘I’d like to go there,’ said Jack. ‘There must be hundreds of birds on that island – quite tame and friendly. It would be marvellous to see them.’
‘Tame and friendly. What do you mean, Freckles?’ said Philip, in surprise. ‘Look at the birds here – afraid even of Kiki!’
‘Ah, but the birds on the Isle of Gloom would not have known man at all,’ said Jack. ‘They would not have learnt to be wary or cautious. I could get some simply marvellous photographs. Gosh, I’d like to go there!’
‘Well, you can’t,’ said Philip. ‘I’ve never been myself, and no one has, as far as I know. Look – will this be the best place for the mattress? We don’t want it too near the window because the rain would wet it – and it often rains here.’
‘Put it where you like,’ said Jack, lost in dreams about the misty island and its unknown birds. He might see birds there that he had never seen at all – he might find rare nests and eggs. He might take the most wonderful bird-photographs in the world. Jack was quite determined to go to the Isle of Gloom if he could, in spite of all Joe’s frightening tales.
‘Come on down to the others,’ said Philip at last, putting the last of their clothes into the chest. ‘I can’t say you’ve been much help, Jack. Come on, Kiki.’
They went down the narrow, winding stair to find the others. It was good to think of the weeks ahead, with no work, no lessons – just bathing, climbing, rowing. They certainly would have fun!
6
The days go by
The girls had decided to have the two rooms. They were such small rooms, and it would be easier to keep two rooms tidier than one, if two people were to have them.
‘There would never be room for anything it we tried to keep all our things in one room,’ said Dinah, and Lucy-Ann agreed. She had been up to see the tower-room and liked it very much. She would have liked a room without glass panes too. It was almost as good as sleeping out-of-doors, thought the little girl, as she leaned out of one of the windows, and felt the sea-breeze streaming through her hair.
The girls’ two rooms looked out over the sea, but in a different direction from the boys’. The Isle of Gloom could never be seen from there. Jack told Lucy-Ann what Joe had said, and Lucy-Ann looked rather alarmed.
‘You needn’t worry. Joe’s full of strange beliefs and strange stories,’ said Philip with a laugh. ‘There’s nothing in his stories, really – I believe he just likes frightening people.’
It was strange to sleep for the first time at Craggy-Tops. Lucy-Ann lay awake for a long time, listening to the muffled roar of the waves breaking on the rocks below. She heard the wind whistling too, and liked it. How different it all was from the quiet little town Uncle Geoffrey lived in! There everything seemed half dead – but here there was noise and movement, the taste of salt on her lips, the feel of the wind through her hair. It was exciting. Anything might happen at lonely Craggy-Tops.
Jack lay awake in the tower-room too. Philip was asleep on the mattress beside him. Jack got up and went to the window. The room was full of the wind, sweeping in at the sea-windows. Jack put his head out, and looked down.
There was a little moon rushing through the clouds. Down below was the swirling water, for the tide was in, beating over the black rocks. Spray flew up on the wind, and Jack felt sure he could feel a little on his cheek, high though his room was. He licked his lips. They tasted deliciously salty.
A bird cried in the night. It sounded sad and mournful, but Jack liked it. What bird was it? One he didn’t know? The sea pounded
away below and the wind swept up in gusts. Jack shivered. It was summer time, but Craggy-Tops was built in such a wind-driven spot that there were always draughts blowing around.
Then he jumped violently, for something touched his shoulder. His heart thumped, and then he laughed. It was only Kiki.
Kiki always slept with Jack, wherever he was. Usually she sat on the rail at the head of his bed, her big head tucked under her wing, but there was no rail this time, only a flat mattress laid on the floor.
So Kiki had found an uncomfortable perch on the edge of the chest – but when she heard Jack at the window she had flown to her usual perch, on his shoulder, making him jump violently. She nestled against him.
‘Go to bed, naughty boy,’ she said. ‘Go to bed.’
Jack grinned. It was funny when Kiki by chance hit on the right sentences. He scratched her poll, talking in a low voice to her, so as not to wake Philip.
‘I’ll rig you up a perch of some sort tomorrow, Kiki,’ he said. ‘You can’t sleep properly on the edge of that chest, I know. Now I’m going to bed. It’s a wild night, isn’t it? But I like it.’
He went back to bed, cold and shivering. But he soon got warm, cuddled up against Philip’s back, and fell asleep, to dream of thousands of sea-birds walking tamely up to be photographed.
Life at Craggy-Tops was strange to Jack and Lucy-Ann at first, after all the years they had spent in an ordinary little house in an ordinary little town.
There was no electric light. There was no hot or cold water coming out of taps. There were no shops round the corner. There was no garden.
There were oil lamps to clean and trim each day, and candles to be put into candlesticks. There was water to be pumped up from a deep, deep well. Jack was interested in the well.
There was a small yard behind the house, backing on to the rocky cliff, and in it was the well that gave the household their water. Jack and Lucy-Ann were surprised that the water was not salty.
‘No, it’s pure drinking water all right,’ said Dinah, lifting a heavy bucket from the chain. ‘The well goes right down in the rocks, far below the sea-bed, to pure water, crystal clear and icy cold. Taste it.’
It was good to drink – as good as any iced water the children had drunk on hot summer days. Jack peered down the dark, deep well.
‘I’d like to go down in that bucket and find out how deep the well-bottom is,’ he said.
‘You’d feel funny if you got stuck and couldn’t get up again,’ said Dinah, with a giggle. ‘Come on, help me, Jack. Don’t stand dreaming there. You’re always dreaming.’
‘And you’re always so quick and impatient,’ said Philip, nearby. Dinah gave him an angry look. She flared up very quickly, and it was easy to provoke her.
‘Well, if you had to do as much as Lucy-Ann and I have been told to do, you’d be a bit quicker too,’ she snapped back. ‘Come on, Lucy-Ann. Let’s leave the boys to get on with their jobs. Boys aren’t much good, anyway.’
‘Yes, you’d better go, before I slap you,’ yelled Philip after her, and then darted away before the angry Dinah could come after him. Lucy-Ann was puzzled and rather shocked at their continual quarrels, but she soon saw that they were over as quickly as they arose, and got used to them.
Shopping was quite a business. It meant that Joe had to get out the old car, and go off with a long list to the nearest village twice a week. If anything was forgotten, it had to be done without till the next visit. Vegetables were got from a small allotment that Joe worked at himself, in a sheltered dip of the cliff away behind the house.
‘Let’s go with Joe and have a ride in the car,’ suggested Lucy-Ann one morning. But Philip shook his head.
‘No good,’ he said. ‘We’ve asked Joe heaps of times, but he won’t take us. He just refuses, and says he’ll push us out of the car if we get in it to go with him. I did get in once, and he kept his word and pushed me out.’
‘The old beast!’ said Jack, astonished. ‘I wonder you put up with him.’
‘Well, who else would come here and work for us in this desolate place?’ said Dinah. ‘Nobody else. Joe wouldn’t either if he wasn’t so strange.’
Still, Lucy-Ann did ask Joe if she could go with him when he went shopping.
‘No,’ snapped the man, and scowled.
‘Please, Joe,’ said Lucy-Ann, looking at him pleadingly. Usually she got her own way when she badly wanted it – but not with Joe.
‘I said no,’ repeated the man, and walked off, his powerful arms swinging by his sides. Lucy-Ann stared after him. How horrid he was! Why wouldn’t he take any of them in the car when he went shopping? Just bad temper, she supposed.
It was fun being at Craggy-Tops, in spite of so many things being difficult. Hot baths, for instance, could only be had once a week. At least, they could be taken every day, if someone lighted the copper fire, and was willing to carry pails of hot water down miles of stone passages to the one and only bath, set in a small room called the bathroom.
After doing this once, Jack decided that he didn’t really care whether he had any more hot baths or not whilst he was at Craggy-Tops. He’d bathe in the sea two or three times a day, and make that do instead.
The girls were given household tasks to do, and did them as best they could. Aunt Polly did the cooking. Uncle Jocelyn did not appear even for meals. Aunt Polly took them to him in his study, and the children hardly remembered he was in the house.
The boys had to get in the water from the well, bring the wood in for the kitchen fire, and fill the burners in the oil stove with oil. They took it in turns with the girls to clean and trim the lamps. Nobody liked doing that, it was such a messy job.
Joe looked after the car and the allotment, did rough scrubbing, cleaned the windows when they became clogged up with salty spray, and did all kinds of other jobs. He had a boat of his own, a sound and good one with a small sail.
‘Would he let us use it?’ asked Jack.
‘Of course not,’ said Philip scornfully. ‘And you’d better not try, without permission. He’d beat you if you did. That boat is the apple of his eye. We are not allowed to set foot in it.’
Jack went to have a look at it. It was a very good boat indeed, and must have cost a lot of money. It had recently been painted and was in first-class order. There were oars, mast and sail, and a good deal of fishing tackle. Jack would dearly have loved to go out in it.
But even as he stood looking at it, wondering if he dared to put his foot into it and feel the boat rocking gently beneath him, the handyman appeared, his usual scowl even deeper.
‘What are you doing?’ he demanded, his eyes roving, so the whites showed plainly. ‘That’s my boat.’
‘All right, all right,’ said Jack impatiently. ‘Can’t I look at it?’
‘No,’ said Joe and scowled again.
‘Naughty boy,’ said Kiki, and screeched at Joe, who looked as if he would like to wring the bird’s neck.
‘Well, you certainly are a pleasant fellow,’ said Jack, stepping away from the boat, feeling suddenly afraid of the unfriendly man. ‘But let me tell you this – I’m going out in a boat, somehow, and you can’t stop me.’
Joe looked after Jack with eyes half closed and his mouth turned in angrily. That interfering boy! Joe would certainly stop him doing anything if he could!
7
An odd discovery
If it had not been for Joe, life at Craggy-Tops, once the children had settled down to their daily tasks, would have been very pleasant. There seemed so much to do that was fun – swimming in the sheltered cove, where the water was calm, was simply lovely. Exploring the damp dark caves in the cliffs was fun. Fishing from the rocks with a line was also very exciting, because quite big fish could be caught that way.
But Joe seemed to spoil everything, with his scowls and continued interference. He always seemed to appear wherever the children were. If they bathed, his sour face appeared round the rocks. If they fished, he came scowling out on the rocks and
told them they were wasting their time.
‘Oh, leave us alone, Joe,’ said Philip impatiently. ‘You act as if you were our keeper! For goodness’ sake leave us to do what we want to do. We’re not doing any harm.’
‘Miss Polly said to me to keep an eye on you all,’ said Joe sulkily. ‘She said to me not to let you get into danger, see.’
‘No, I don’t see,’ said Philip crossly. ‘All I can see is that you keep popping up wherever we are and spoiling things for us. Don’t keep prying on us. We don’t like it.’
Lucy-Ann giggled. She thought it was brave of Philip to talk to the big man like that. He certainly was a nuisance. What fun they would have had if he had been jolly and good-tempered! They could have gone fishing and sailing in his boat. They could have fished properly with him. They could have gone out in the car and picnicked.
‘But all because he’s so sour and bad-tempered we can’t do any of those things,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘Why, we might even have tried to sail out to the Isle of Gloom to see if there were many birds there, as Jack so badly wants to do, if only Joe had been nice.’
‘Well, he’s not nice, and we’ll never go to Gloom, and if we did get there, I bet there wouldn’t be any birds on such a desolate place,’ said Philip. ‘Come on – let’s explore that big cave we found yesterday.’
It really was fun exploring the caves on the shore. Some of them ran very far back into the cliff. Others had holes in the roofs, that led to upper caves. Philip said that in olden times men had used the caves for hiding in, or for storing smuggled goods. But there was nothing to be seen in them now except seaweed and empty shells.
‘I wish we had a good torch,’ said Jack, as his candle was blown out for the sixth time that morning. ‘I shall soon have no candles left. If only there was a shop round the corner where we could slip along and buy a torch! I asked Joe to get me one when he went shopping in the car, but he wouldn’t.’