The Little Grey Men

by BB

  Mummy showed him how it worked by winding it up inside the funnel (as if Robin didn’t know!) and after breakfast they went down to the lake, Robin clasping the ship in his arms (it was all he could do to carry it). Mummy insisted on showing him how to hold the red propellers under the stern. As she wound the engine up she didn’t notice the little lever close to the stern which locked the propellers, but ladies aren’t really very mechanically minded! Robin was afraid something would happen, the spring would break, or the barrels would drop out of the hold. Then he remembered that on her first voyage she should carry some sort of cargo. The little sacks were filled with sawdust—that was silly. The barrels were empty, that would never do—she must carry a cargo. Robin had an idea. The Jeanie Deans should be part of a convoy, carrying food across to Britain, with the U-boats and the German dive bombers after her, and the lake should be the Atlantic. A wonderful idea!

  So before she was launched, Robin decided he would fill the little sacks and barrels with food. Close by was a big bramble bush covered with juicy blackberries; they would do for oranges. Everyone likes oranges, and blackberries were nearly as nice. He collected a hatful (Mummy helped him) and packed them neatly away in the barrels. Each barrel held three juicy blackberries, and there were fifteen barrels in the hold. Then he put his hand in his pocket and brought out a handful of peppermint creams. He packed the sweets away in the bags (there were eleven sacks) and then, her cargo complete, and fully laden, the Jeanie Deans was ready for her first perilous voyage.

  Robin only hoped that some sneaking U-boat commander was not watching him through his periscope!

  The Jeanie Deans was put carefully into the water, and Robin, who was now holding the propellers, which were straining to go against his fingers, gave the ship a gentle push. Away she went, steaming bravely from the shore on her first voyage, fully laden with barrels and merchandise, a brave sight!

  The sun shone, the water sparkled, the reeds bent in the wind and the leaves fell all around.

  Ahead of the Jeanie Deans was a mass of leaves, and Robin thought she would stick fast in them. But the powerful engine made light of the matter and she got safely through.

  Why was it that Mummy had not altered the rudder before putting it in the water? Robin began to feel nervous.

  Out and out into the lake went the little ship, tiny wavelets breaking against her painted bows, but her master and mate did not steer again for the shore. The Jeanie Deans was evidently bound for Britain, and no thought of coming back to port. Why should she? It was a glorious morning, just the weather for a long sea voyage, so on she went, out into the shining dazzle of the water.

  Robin began to run along the bank; Mummy, too, was anxious—how silly of her to forget the rudder! Just like a woman! Surely the spring would soon run down and the ship would drift back to shore! But no, on she went, getting smaller and smaller on the dazzling expanse of the lake. Robin began to cry . . . his lovely boat, the loveliest birthday present he had ever had! His joy was turned to sudden bitterness, his birthday spoilt.

  ‘It’s all right, Robin; we’ll get it back in no time . . . I’ll tell them to get the punt out.’ (She did not know that the punt, which was kept in the boathouse at the far end of the lake, was too leaky to float, from long disuse.) ‘Don’t cry, Robin; it’s bound to come to the side.’

  The Jeanie Deans was now only a tiny speck far out on the breast of the shining ocean. Robin flung himself down on the grass and wept bitter tears.

  •

  The 29th of September found the gnomes in a bad way. Despite the glorious sun and sparkling water, and the brilliant colours already showing in the leaves of the island trees and bushes, the gnomes were in no mood for admiring the beauties of the lovely autumn morning.

  Dodder was definitely weaker, and the others were in an even worse state. All through the day they lay in the hut, feeling too feeble to move.

  When the sun began to sink and the breeze which all day had been blowing off the land, dropped, Dodder got up and hobbled unsteadily along the shore. He was in a desperate frame of mind. In some ways he felt responsible for the expedition.

  You will remember he was the oldest gnome of the three and the wisest. He had urged that the voyage be continued, and he now heartily wished he had persuaded the others to turn back after killing the giant in Crow Wood—surely that feat was enough to go on with!

  He hobbled along over the stones, following the curve of the beach. In one sheltered bay he came upon web footmarks in the soft sand and some grey feathers. Dodder knew the feathers of every bird that flew. He recognized them at once as goose feathers. That was curious . . . they had seen no geese, tame or wild, on the lake. It was just possible wild geese did rest here on their spring and autumn migrations, for it was a large sheet of water, and the feathers had lain there a long time, so he thought no more about it. Everything was so peaceful and beautiful. The lake was just like a huge polished mirror and the atmosphere so clear that he could see the far shore with its thick woods and, rising over the trees, a thin mist of smoke from the chimneys of the big house.

  He sat down on a stone and lit a pipe. At this rate they couldn’t last out much longer. If only the herons would come back, or poor Otter’s brothers pay them a visit. But he knew why they shunned the place. It was the lack of fish. Even the frogs kept away because of the herons.

  Over the water danced a cloud of midges, up and down, up and down; a wonderful night for fishing, if only he had his hook and line. Already there were signs of more fish about the island; now that the shark was no more, they were returning. But they could not be caught without fishing-lines. He hid his face in his hands.

  Well, there wasn’t much else he could do. He had prayed to Pan, and Pan hadn’t heard him; perhaps he was busy elsewhere in another part of the country, looking after his big family of animals, and had no time to bother with three castaway gnomes. If his prayer was meant to be answered, surely it would have been by now?

  Dodder got up and wandered on. Everywhere bare stones and bushes with not a berry on them, no mushrooms here because there was no grass, truly a barren wilderness. He was thirsty and remembered that Baldmoney had told him of a little spring farther along the shore. At any rate they did not lack water, and both gnomes and men can live for days on water alone; it is the lack of it which kills quicker than lack of food.

  He soon found himself in a part of the island he had never been before. The trees came right down to the water’s edge, overhanging it, and here and there were massive boulders and, of course, the interminable ground ivy.

  At last he heard the distant tinkling of running water. It must be the spring! On climbing over a large fallen tree he came upon it, bubbling fresh and clear out of a little natural basin in the rock. He knelt down and drank greedily, wetting his beard. The water was delicious and he took long draughts. Then he felt better.

  As he raised his eyes, he saw something sticking over the top of a large stone a little way down the shore, something painted black and red. Whatever could it be? He rubbed his eyes and looked again and then, seeing it did not move, he cautiously approached it, crawling through the ground ivy.

  Slowly the object came into view . . . a big red and black funnel, quite seven inches high! Another squirm and he peeped round the rock and he was so flabbergasted he lay quite still. It was a huge steamer, a beautiful craft, with not a scratch on her paintwork. There she lay with her bows on a little spit of white sand, quite motionless. No smoke rose from the funnel and there was no sign of life on board; it was far too small to carry a human crew. A thought flashed through his mind—could it be Cloudberry’s? It might be. By some strange chance he might have built the boat, though it seemed unbelievable. For a long time he lay watching for any sign of life on deck, then he boldly crept closer until he was right under her bows. He saw JEANIE DEANS in big gold letters painted on either side of the bows and the heavy anchors hanging down. She flew no flag, but her paintwork gleamed as spick and span as a si
lver roach. There was a little ladder made of tarred rope hanging over the side and, despite his game leg, Dodder managed, after a struggle, to reach it. Rung by rung he hauled himself up until he was standing on the pitch pine decking.

  His heart beat wildly. Supposing someone was on board! He stood for a long time listening and then very cautiously peeped in at the saloon door. Inside was a table with a little lamp hanging over it, and four bunks let into the walls, empty and without bedding. At the far end of the saloon was a picture of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth and the two Princesses. So she was an English ship! He went inside, examined the bunks, admired the pictures and had a good look round. Once he thought he heard steps outside and crept under the table, but it was only his imagination. In one corner of the cabin was a cupboard let into the wall. Inside he found six small tin plates, six large ones, a carving knife, forks and spoons, and a little copper stew-pan.

  He came out of the cabin and then began a thorough search all over the ship. He lifted the covers off the two lifeboats. Inside each was a pair of oars and a coil of rope. Everything smelt of paint and clean, new wood.

  He went into the fo’castle and there found a bright hollow object with an oval ring at one end. He lifted it up and blew down it. He thought it might be some sort of musical instrument. Perhaps the captain played it, or could it be the bo’sun’s pipe? No, it was too big (he did not know it was the spare key). He scratched his beard and took off his cap, but he couldn’t make head nor tail of it. Then he went along the deck to the hold and peeped fearfully in. There was a little ladder which let down the side. He could see rows of barrels and in one corner a little pile of sacks.

  So the Jeanie Deans was carrying a cargo. Perhaps it was food. Food! Dodder’s mouth began to water. He was suddenly aware that he was very hungry. He climbed down the ladder and gingerly approached the barrels. When he took the top off the first one he could have cried with joy. It was full of the loveliest, juiciest, blackberries he had ever seen! But he didn’t take one—he remembered Baldmoney and Sneezewort back in camp, starving and weak and hardly able to stand.

  Next he opened the mouth of one of the sacks; large round white things, like sugar engine domes, were inside—whatever were they? Gingerly he broke off a piece. OOOO! but it was good! He had never tasted anything so delicious in his life as peppermint creams!

  So Pan had not forgotten them after all.

  •

  As darkness fell, three little gnomes, carrying bundles, might have been seen picking their way among the stones towards the stranded steamer.

  Dodder had returned to camp with the staggering news, and it was decided to return to the ship with all haste. Food was there, and there also seemed to lie their only chance of ever getting away from the island.

  After Sneezewort and Baldmoney had toured the ship (as delighted and amazed as Dodder with this wonderful answer to their prayers), they foregathered in the cabin to talk things over.

  The rising moon cast an eerie light through one of the portholes and in the half-darkness could be heard the sound of juicy suckings, for they had brought some peppermint creams and blackberries up from the hold to ease the pangs of hunger.

  The first thing to be considered was the problem of getting away from the island.

  Dodder, having finished his meal, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, squeezed the juice out of his long beard and lit his pipe. Then he began:

  ‘Now, Baldmoney and Sneezewort, we’ve got to do a lot of thinking. First, the ship is aground, and it isn’t going to be easy to get her off, and once off we’ve got to find how she works. Below, in the engine-room, there are levers and cogs, springs and bolts, which I don’t understand at all. But, gnomes’ (and here Dodder brandished his pipe), ‘we’ve got to move with the times. I have no doubt, if we think long enough, we shall find a way out of this difficulty and discover the secret of how the engine works. We must all use our heads and be intelligent. Pan wouldn’t have sent us this boat if we couldn’t sail it.

  ‘Here we are, in a brand new spanking steamer, but as she stands she’s useless. It’s true we’ve got food now to last us for a week or two, but that isn’t going to last for ever, and the sooner we get busy the better.

  ‘Who knows? The owner of this ship might come along and find us here; we should be arrested and thrown into prison, because, really, it does not belong to us at all!

  ‘It may belong to some other gnomes. Remember, we have always lived by the Folly, in the Oak Pool, and never stirred from the place. I see now, that was a mistake. We thought we were the only gnomes left in England . . . well, perhaps we were wrong. Cloudberry may have met some other gnomes—they may even have built this boat. After all, what would humans want with a ship of this size? Her owner and crew may be even now on the island; they may return at any moment!’

  The gnomes sat in the moonlit cabin, listening. After Dodder’s last remark they began to imagine things. Baldmoney went out on deck and looked about.

  It was a serenely calm night. The moon, half full, rode in a clear sky, the trees rustled softly. Something fell with a faint splash not far away and he saw gleaming rings widening on the still water. But it was only a leaf which had fallen from one of the bushes.

  In the moonlight the Jeanie Deans seemed even more imposing, with her huge funnel slightly slanting against its background of stars, her gleaming bridge, whitey-green in the moonlight, and dark shadows lurking in the hold. But beyond the faint noises of the night, the wind amongst the trees, and the occasional splash of a falling leaf or stick, all was still.

  The gnomes began once again to explore the ship, but after about an hour they were no nearer the solving of the difficulty. What power on earth could move the silent hulking vessel which, so perfect and amazing, lay like a heavy sleeping monster on the white sand of the little bay!

  Baldmoney climbed on Sneezewort’s shoulder and peeped down the funnel. He saw the vertical steel rod inside, but it was as inexplicable as everything else about the ship. Then Dodder remembered the bright thing in the fo’castle. He brought it along and showed it to the others. Baldmoney, perched on the funnel, had it passed up to him. He turned it over and over and then, a sudden idea occurring to him, he pushed it over the rod inside the funnel; it fitted perfectly!

  Perhaps this was the secret. But when he tried to turn the key (for, of course, it was the key, not only to the engine, but to all their difficulties) it would not budge an inch. Then Dodder moved the locking lever against the side. Nothing happened! He twiddled the spokes of the steering wheel, still nothing happened, save that the tiller moved, making a little slapping noise in the water.

  The gnomes pulled their beards and talked in low voices. No . . . that bright thing that fitted in the funnel must be something to do with the engine! Sneezewort climbed up and tried to turn it, then they both pushed and pulled. Dodder passed them up his stout cudgel stick which he always carried. They put it through the bow of the key and tried to make it work as a lever.

  ‘Push,’ hissed Baldmoney to the struggling Sneezewort.

  ‘Pull,’ groaned Sneezewort, little beads of sweat forming on his brow.

  Strange clickings started, and from the interior of the engine-room came a sudden whirring sound, as of a caged monster, which scared them out of their wits. The gnomes were so surprised that they let go of Dodder’s stick, which whizzed round rapidly, knocking both of them clean off the funnel. They fell on the deck with an awful bump, but luckily were unhurt.

  Dodder was very excited. ‘I felt her move,’ he shouted; ‘we’re on the right track—that’s the secret right enough, boys!’

  They climbed down to the sand and tried to push her off but she would not stir. In starting the engine they had driven her even farther aground, and she had no reversing gear. Baldmoney came down the rope ladder and lent a hand too, using sticks as levers. They pushed and pushed in the moonlight for all they were worth.

  ‘She’s moving,’ gasped Dodder; ‘one more heave—one, two
, three, now!’ Then . . . very gradually, the Jeanie Deans slipped back and the next moment she was floating in deep water just off shore, gently turning round, and showing her full and lovely lines. The excited gnomes clambered back up the rope ladder and the next moment all were aboard. A tiny breeze puffed once across the water and the big ship swung yet farther from the shore.

  The gnomes fitted the key into the funnel again and wound the engine up, the ingenious Dodder having found the purpose of the checking lever. Sneezewort and Baldmoney pushed and pulled until they were quite out of breath. At last the key would turn no more—the ship was ready to start.

  They made fast the little lifeboats, buttoning on the canvas covers, and when all was ready, Dodder took the wheel. The bows of the Jeanie Deans were pointing away from Poplar Island, for the gentle night breeze had taken her out still farther into the lake. Baldmoney went forward to the bridge beside Dodder, and Sneezewort went below to get the supper ready.

  The checking lever was pushed down and the next moment the Jeanie Deans began to move. Her decks trembled slightly, there was a sweet purring noise from the engine and very gently she gathered speed. What a wonderful moment that was, to feel the ship suddenly become alive, so full of power and movement! Down in the saloon the plates rattled gently on the table, tiny creaks and squeaks sounded on all sides, the pictures of King George VI and his Queen and the two Princesses trembled gently on the walls.

  Sneezewort felt very important, as, with sleeves rolled up, he busied himself over the galley stove. I’m afraid he also ate far too many peppermint creams, but it was an opportunity not to be missed.