The Picts and the Martyrs

by Arthur Ransome

  CHAPTER IX

  HARBOUR FOR SCARAB

  WET work was being done in Octopus Lagoon. Dick and Nancy had found Peggy already changed into bathing things, waiting in Amazon ready to push off. Dick had been put at the oars, because Peggy, being larger, was better fit to balance Nancy and to keep the boat upright, more or less, while Nancy was busy with her under-water scything. A few strokes had taken them up river and into the lagoon, and Nancy, working away with the scythe had begun cutting a fairway through the waterlilies. “The harbour’s got to be right in the corner down there, not where there’s nothing but field behind the reeds … there, by the willows. Get her in there and nobody’ll be able to see her even from the road.”

  Cutting the stems of waterlilies deep below the surface is no easy business from a small boat. Dick did his best to keep Amazon steady, pretending to himself that already he was handling Scarab. Nancy, astride the bow thwart, leaned over, sunk the scythe as far as she could reach and swept it round, while Peggy hung her weight as far over as she could on the opposite side, as if they had been sailing with a stiff breeze on the port tack. That splash that Dorothea had heard from the road was Peggy falling backwards overboard when Nancy after nearly overbalancing to starboard had jerked herself suddenly upright.

  Peggy came up again with a mouthful of water, and grabbed the gunwale of the boat. Dick let go of an oar, but caught it again, very nearly dipping the gunwale as he did so. Nancy laughed.

  “All right, Peggy,” she said. “My fault really. Good thing we left our party frocks ashore. Work round to the stern and come in over the transom … Sit still, Dick. She’ll manage.”

  In another moment Peggy was aboard again, shaking her wet hair and dripping water as she went back to her place. “I ought to have had a foot under the thwart,” she said. “All right, Dick, you needn’t grin. Who went overboard on the Broads?.”

  “I wasn’t grinning because of that,” said Dick.

  He had not known that he was smiling at all. The smile that the dripping Peggy had seen was one not of amusement but of admiration. Nobody in all the world could have fallen overboard and climbed in again with less fuss. And already Nancy was working her scythe under water as if nothing had happened. They really were sailors these two, and more than sailors. While cutting the channel, already wide astern of them, they had been talking. He had heard more of the Great Aunt’s arrival. Peggy had copied Cook’s voice in greeting the unwelcome guest, and the Great Aunt’s in announcing to Cook that she and not Nancy was going to do the housekeeping. He had heard Nancy’s story of her dealings with the postman. He had heard of Timothy rowing hurriedly away at the sight of the Great Aunt outside the drawing-room window, and of his panic-stricken dodging into the wood on meeting her taking her nieces for a walk. “Good thing really,” said Nancy. “I’d made up my mind to give him a glassy look and pretend we didn’t know him, but he might not have taken the hint. And there wouldn’t have been a chance of warning him. ‘Where’s Dick?’ he’d have said, thinking of his stinks. And the G.A. would have said nosily, ‘Who’s Dick?’ And then we’d have been all in the soup together … Pull right a bit. That’s it. Hold her there … As it is, it’s going to work out beautifully. He’d have been one of the worst dangers. Now, it’s quite safe. He’ll never come near the house. I’ve told him about it in my letter. He’ll do his stinks in the houseboat, and when he wants you all he’ll have to do is to send off a pigeon, and we’ll get a message up to you.”

  “They’ve got a good letter-box in the wall,” said Peggy.

  “We’ll be able to shove a despatch in that,” said Nancy. “Even if we can’t get up the wood. Shove her forward again, Dick … You’ll have Scarab tomorrow, so you’ll be able to get to the houseboat. Everything that was planned is going to get done just as if the G.A. wasn’t here.”

  It was little wonder that Dick was smiling. Everything was going to be all right after all, and the doubts even he had had were gone. With people like Nancy and Peggy who fell in and got out again as if it was part of the day’s work and set themselves without a murmur the dreadful task of keeping the Great Aunt happy, how could anything go wrong?

  They had cut a way through the waterlilies almost to the edge of the reeds, when they heard a quiet “Ahoy!”

  WET WORK IN THE LAGOON

  “Dot,” said Peggy, and quacked like a duck.

  “She doesn’t know that signal,” said Nancy, and called out, “Coming.”

  Dick rowed stern first through the waterlilies, catching an oar now and then in the tough stems on either side of the cut channel.

  “No good making it wider,” said Nancy, watching. “You don’t want it so that everyone can see it. You’ll have to work her in and out by sculling over the stern.”

  “Yes,” said Dick. That was yet another thing to learn. He could row very well with two oars, but sculling over the stern with one … Well, he had seen Tom do it in Titmouse, and noticed that sideways waggle and twist of the oar’s blade, making it work something like the blade of a screw. There was nothing about it in Knight on Sailing, but he would find out by experiment.

  Once clear of the waterlilies he turned Amazon round, and rowed downstream. Dot was waiting under the trees at the edge of the river by the two white blobs that were the clothes shed by Nancy and Peggy. He worked the boat’s nose in towards the bank.

  “This side of that tree root,” said Nancy. “Good. You don’t manage her half badly. Hop in, Dot. I’ll keep the scythe out of the way. Get to the stern. Pole off, Dick. Well? Is it all right?”

  Dorothea had meant to tell them her new idea before getting into the boat, but, somehow, she found herself sitting in the stern, with the boat afloat and Dick pulling upstream before she had had time. She answered Nancy’s question.

  “He hasn’t told her about us,” she said.

  “I knew he wouldn’t,” said Nancy. “He’s never as bad as he makes out. But what about her lying down?”

  “He’s told her to take a rest every day after lunch.”

  “Good. That means two and a half hours clear for us,” said Nancy. “We’ll manage with that.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” said Dorothea.

  “Pull left, Dick … Left again …”

  “Stop,” said Dorothea. “Wait a minute …”

  “What is it? Go on, Dick. You’re heading for it now.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” said Dorothea. “Don’t let’s do it … The harbour, I mean. You see the only thing that really matters is that she shouldn’t find out we’re here. And we oughtn’t to take any risks at all. And having the harbour so close to the house … Much better not. Dick and I can easily wait for Scarab till she’s gone.”

  Dorothea saw the disappointment on Dick’s face. She went on hurriedly. “It’s only for a few days. And it won’t be much good having Scarab if you can’t sail too. And she’s much less likely to find out, if we simply stay in the wood.”

  Dick stopped rowing. The boat slid silently on towards the waterlilies.

  “It would be a bit safer,” said Peggy.

  Nancy turned her head sharply. “And let her win?” she said. “Of course not. Look here, Dot. Mother asked you two to come here. Uncle Jim did all the arranging about Scarab. They planned for her to be ready when you came. If the boatbuilders weren’t boatbuilders and always late you’d have had her already. Mother thinks you’re having a lovely time sailing every day. She’ll be awfully sick if she finds you’ve been cooped up doing nothing.”

  “What about you?” said Dorothea.

  “That’s got nothing to do with it. It can’t be helped about us. Go on rowing, Dick.”

  “There’s lots for us to do in the wood,” said Dorothea. “We can easily wait for the sailing. I’ve got housekeeping to learn and Dick’s cutting wood. And there’s birds and caterpillars … We won’t mind a bit just waiting for a few days.”

  Dick was watching Dorothea’s face. “Dot’s quite right,” he said.

&
nbsp; “No she isn’t,” said Nancy. “Shiver my timbers. Just you listen to me. Nobody invited the G.A.. Mother invited you. Everything was planned beforehand. There’s Scarab ready tomorrow and you’re jolly well going to have her. And it isn’t just for fun either. There’s a reason.”

  Dick’s hopes rose again.

  “You’ve forgotten the main thing you’re here for. What about the mine? What about the stinks that have got to be done? Timothy and Dick were to get them done before Uncle Jim came back. Well, they can’t do them in Uncle Jim’s den. But they can do them in the houseboat. And how’s Dick going to get there if you haven’t got Scarab? So no more gummocking about doing without. It isn’t safe for you to use Amazon or to keep Scarab in our boathouse …”

  “I’d forgotten about the assays,” said Dick.

  Dorothea looking from Dick to Nancy and to Dick again made up her mind once more. “I suppose it’s the only way,” she said.

  “Of course it is. And we’ve nearly got to the reeds already. Steady, Dick …”

  They were back in the cut channel. Already the oars were lifting loose waterlily leaves.

  “Don’t you ever try bathing here,” said Nancy.

  “Peggy’s been in,” said Dick.

  “Pretty beastly with waterlilies,” said Peggy. “I don’t wonder Roger called them octopuses when they caught the oars. They’re worse when they catch your legs.”

  “I heard a splash,” said Dorothea, and Dick knew that she was no longer thinking of making Nancy change her plans. Scarab tomorrow. Sailing. And then assays in the houseboat with Timothy. If it had not been that he could not let go of the oars he would have taken off his spectacles and wiped them with relief.

  “Good thing we got into bathers,” said Nancy. “Pretty awful if Peggy’d had to turn up at tea with her frock all over green slime.”

  “The harbour’s going to be by that bush,” said Dick. “The willow. You can see it above the reeds.”

  “Get your weight on the same side as Peggy,” said Nancy, who was again working her scythe. “Don’t lean over too far or you’ll be in, too.”

  Foot by foot, yard by yard, they were coming nearer to the deep bank of tall reeds at the edge of the lagoon. There was a little open water between the last of the waterlilies and the reeds. The boat slipped forward and then stopped.

  “Hold her so,” said Nancy.

  Bit by bit she cut her way in, reaching down with the scythe to cut the reeds as far below the surface as she could. It was hard work even for Nancy, and the others said nothing, but did their best to help. Dick found he could touch the bottom with an oar. Peggy took one and he kept the other, prodding at the bottom while Dorothea took hold of the reeds and pulled to keep the boat from slipping back as they forced their way slowly in.

  “We’re not going straight for the willow,” said Dick.

  “That’s all right,” panted Nancy. “We want a bit of a bend in the channel so that it’ll look like solid reeds from the other side of the lagoon. Then nobody’ll be able to see her from anywhere. Shove her stern round a bit now. Gosh, my arms are nearly busting.”

  Dorothea looked back. It was as if they were in a narrow alley between tall reeds with feathery tops just stirring in the wind. The water astern of them was covered with cut and floating reeds. Through the mouth of the alley she could see waterlilies out in the lagoon, and, beyond them, the reeds that fringed the other side. Presently, as the boat moved forward on a new line the opening narrowed and disappeared. There was nothing but reeds to be seen. There was more hard work by Nancy. Dick and Peggy, poling the boat with their oars prodding into the soft bottom, watched her. They did not wait for orders, but moved the boat forward as Nancy cut a way for her. The reeds suddenly seemed thinner before them. The top of the willow tree showed above their heads.

  “Shove her in now,” said Nancy. “Both together. Let go of those reeds, Dot, or you’ll get your hands cut. Now. One, two, push …”

  The boat shot forward and grounded, close beside the willow.

  “Soft bottom for her and roots to land on,” said Nancy. “I had a look first. And jolly well hidden. She won’t be seen here even if anybody was looking for her. And the harbour’s going to be useful even when the G.A. goes back to her horrid Harrogate. We can use it as a lurking place when the Swallows come and we start a new war. Roger’ll remember the octopuses and they’ll never think of our being able to hide a brig here. What’s the time, Dick?”

  “Three minutes past four.”

  “Giminy. Hop out, you two. We’ve got to get home. I’ve got to get cool somehow. How’s your hair, Peg?”

  “Pretty dry.”

  “It’s got to be perfect with a ribbon round it before we go in to tea. And we’ve got to get out of bathers into beastlies. We haven’t a minute. All right, I’m holding the scythe well out of the way.”

  “The ribbon’s dry but you can see where it’s been wet,” said Peggy.

  “Well, don’t try to explain if she spots it,” said Nancy.

  “What shall I say?”

  “Say ‘Oh Aunt Maria, how careless of me’, and go and dig out another. Grab the willow, Dot, and jump on that root. Now look here. You know what you’ve got to do next? I’ve told Dick. The pigeon cage is hidden behind the wall nearly opposite our gate. Wait till we’re in having tea. Then go and lift it and cart it down to Timothy’s boat. You’ll see it from the road beyond the promontory. And then you’d better dodge back. You never know. She might want to walk that way again after tea.”

  “What about tomorrow?” asked Dick.

  “We ought to be able to tuck her up by about two. Go along the road past Beckfoot. Climb up the promontory from the other side. All rocks and heather on the top. From there you can look down on our garden, and you’ll see when we’re ready. We’ll get Amazon out and pick you up below the boathouse. We’ll take you across to Rio, and get Scarab and then you’ll sail back by yourselves. You’ll have her in your own harbour tomorrow night. Time, Dick?”

  “Seven and three quarter minutes past four.”

  “Giminy,” said Nancy. “I’ve simply got to get cool.”

  She stepped over into the water beside the Amazon, paddled her feet, and scooped handfuls of water over her shoulders.

  “But how will you get dry?” said Dorothea.

  “That doesn’t matter so much,” said Nancy, climbing into the boat again. “My hair’s better than Peg’s anyhow. We ought to have brought a comb. Shove her off.”

  “Are you going to be there in time?” said Dick.

  “We jolly well are. You’d better sneak through the trees till you can see the lawn. Then you’ll know when it’s safe to go for the pigeons.”

  Already the two half-naked savages were poling their boat out stern first through the new-made passage in the reeds. They disappeared round the bend in the channel and a moment later, Dick and Dorothea, still waiting by the new harbour, heard the grunt of rowlocks and the steady noise of rowing.

  CHAPTER X

  PIGEONS FOR TIMOTHY

  “I’M jolly glad to have Scarab after all,” said Dick.

  “I’d forgotten about what you’ve got to do with Timothy,” said Dorothea. “And anyway, the harbour’s made now. All the same, we’ll have to go right past the house every time we take her in or out.”

  “Anybody can use the river,” said Dick. “Even if she saw us, she wouldn’t know who we were.”

  “With more and more people knowing, it’s getting riskier every minute,” said Dorothea.

  “We’ll be able to tie her up to the willow tree,” said Dick, thinking not of the Great Aunt but of Scarab. “And the reeds on each side will work like fenders. She’s going to be quite safe here.”

  “Do you think they’re going to be in time?”

  “We’ve got to go and see,” said Dick.

  “We might run right into her.”

  “Too jungly for that,” said Dick.

  They left the secret harbour and set
off through the coppice towards the Beckfoot garden, moving like hunters and wishing the twigs underfoot were not so dry and crackling.

  “Don’t go so fast,” Whispered Dorothea. ‘They can’t be there yet. They’ve got to land and change out of their bathing things first. Listen!”

  Somewhere to the left of them Nancy and Peggy must be turning themselves from savages into suitable nieces for the Great Aunt. But there was not a sound to he heard.

  “They’re being awfully quiet.”

  The Picts went carefully on, Dick leading the way. They came to an overgrown path, and crossed it. Paths, in enemy country, were things to be avoided. They stepped across a narrow trickle of a stream that they guessed must be the same that filled their washing basin up in the wood.

  “We must be close to the house now,” whispered Dorothea.

  And then, only a little way ahead of them, they heard someone call. “Ruth! Margaret!”

  They froze.

  “Her!” whispered Dorothea. “Cook wouldn’t have called them like that. Dick! Dick. We’ve heard her voice. Do you think we’ll be able to see her?”

  “They’re going to be late,” whispered Dick. He crept slowly on, putting each foot down as if he were walking on eggshells and afraid of breaking them. He had often stalked a bird in the same way, hearing its call and trying to come near enough to see it. Dorothea crept after him. He stopped, and crouched lower and lower, signalling with a hand to Dorothea. She crouched beside him. Looking out, from among the bushes, with their heads close to the ground, they could see the long daisy-covered grass of the Beckfoot lawn stretching down to the boathouse and the river. They could see nothing of the house, but dared not move again.

  “Ruth! Margaret!”

  The Great Aunt herself could not be more than thirty yards away.

  “She’s in the garden,” whispered Dick.

  “We oughtn’t to be here,” whispered Dorothea.

  “Listen!”

  They heard the splash of oars.