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Text originally published in 1961 under the same title.
© Papamoa Press 2017, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.
Publisher’s Note
Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.
We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.
THE TIDE IN THE ATTIC
BY
ALEID VAN RHIJN
Translated by A. J. Pomerans
Illustrated by Marjorie Gill
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Contents
TABLE OF CONTENTS 5
CHAPTER ONE — A game in the loft 6
CHAPTER TWO — The worst is still to come 9
CHAPTER THREE — Ready for the flood 15
CHAPTER FOUR — The water comes nearer 22
CHAPTER FIVE — A desolate Sunday 34
CHAPTER SIX — Huddled in the loft 41
CHAPTER SEVEN — A new calamity 49
CHAPTER EIGHT - On the roof 56
CHAPTER NINE — Another day dawns 67
CHAPTER TEN — The helicopter 72
CHAPTER ELEVEN — Kees meets his Queen 83
APPENDIX 86
REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 88
CHAPTER ONE — A game in the loft
‘It’s blowing up quite a gale,’ said Kees Wielemaker.
‘What of it?’ his friend Jaap Buis replied. ‘Let’s pull the rope round here. Come on, pull...still harder...that’s it. Now it’s fixed.’
The two Dutch boys were playing in the spacious loft of Sunset Farm.
The farm buildings were large and not very far from the village. You got there by turning left a hundred yards past the last house in Church Street. From it a path led to Zeedorp and to Sunset Farm. At the entrance to the drive stood two stone pillars, with ‘Sunset’ carved into one and ‘Farm’ into the other.
It was a very fine farm.
The first thing you saw was the house giving on to the cowsheds and the stables with the big loft above them.
Next to them was another large building, with more cowsheds below and a hay-loft on top. All the outhouses were thatched, except the pig-sty which stood between them and the orchard. Altogether it was a lovely old farm.
The entire farmyard was covered with ground sea-shells, making a sort of paving. It looked very pretty and reduced the amount of dust. But the chickens would scratch about in it and often dig up the soil underneath.
Six people lived on Sunset Farm: Mr. Wielemaker the farmer; his wife; his son Kees; his little daughter Sjaantje; Jacob, the farm hand; and Trui, the maid.
Then there were some twenty cows which were let out on the fields in summer, five horses and about a dozen pigs. Of course, there were chickens and ducks as well. You couldn’t imagine a farm without chickens or ducks, could you? And, of course, there was Miesje, the snow-white cat, and Bob, the great brown watch-dog.
But let us have another look at the boys up in the hayloft.
It was wonderful playing up there in the winter. There was plenty of room and you could really let yourself go. Nobody minded how much noise you made and Kees and Jaap went there as often as possible. Jaap Buis, the teacher’s son, was Kees’s best friend; they were in the same class and spent as much of their free time together as they could. The loft was just above the cowshed, and you could easily get up there by a ladder. Most of the floor was covered with hay but one corner was not, and it was here that the boys usually played.
They had rigged up a tent out of bamboo sticks and old pieces of sail-cloth. It was not so simple, for the tent kept falling over. So they had decided to fasten it to the timbers with a thick rope. They had the whole afternoon to do it, for it was Saturday afternoon, Saturday, January the 31st, 1953. The wind was raging round the hay-loft.
Half an hour later, Kees and Jaap had finished.
Their tent was a farmyard; Kees was the farmer and Jaap the farm hand.
‘But we’ve got no cattle,’ Kees said.
Jaap had a wonderful idea; Jaap always had wonderful ideas.
‘Let’s bring Bob and Miesje up here,’ he said.
Bob, the farm dog, was delighted to be taken up in the loft with the boys, and didn’t even mind being tied to a rope.
But Miesje, the family cat, put up a fight when the boys tried to tie a string round her neck. When protesting didn’t do her any good, she made the best of a bad job, lay down and fell asleep.
As they were busy stocking up with animals, they decided they might as well take Witje up, too. Witje was a snow-white young nanny-goat born last summer. She was a playful thing and would much rather have romped about in the yard than be dragged up a ladder. But now there she was, tied to a pole and looking round inquisitively.
‘But we still need a farmer’s wife,’ Jaap called out.
Just then, they heard voices below. The boys peered down and saw Kees’s little sister, Sjaantje, with Geurt Adriaanse. They had turned up just at the right moment.
Geurt’s father worked on Sunset Farm but lived in a little house in the village. Geurt was in the same class as Kees and Jaap.
‘Hallo, Geurt!’ Kees called out.
‘Hallo,’ Geurt replied.
‘Come up, you,’ Jaap shouted to them. ‘We’ve made a farmyard up here.’
‘And we’ve got a lot of livestock as well,’ Kees added.
‘We’re short of a farm hand.’
‘And we need Sjaantje as the farmer’s wife.’
In a moment Sjaantje and Geurt were up. Bob wagged his tail; Miesje woke up and started miaowing. Witje sniffed inquisitively at Geurt’s hand.
‘Geurt,’ said the make-believe farmer, ‘you’ll have to go and feed the animals and you, Jaap, ought to get on with the milking.’
‘Very good, sir,’ Geurt and Jaap answered.
‘I’m going to see to your supper,’ said the ‘farmer’s wife’. ‘There’ll be bacon, eggs and potatoes. And strawberries and cream to follow.’
So they went on with their game, which they were enjoying tremendously, laughing, talking and shouting all the time. From time to time, they couldn’t hear each other speak. That was when the west wind made the beams creak noisily and startled Miesje in her sleep. It was a very violent storm.
CHAPTER TWO — The worst is still to come
It was half past five, and outside it was pitch dark. The entire Wielemaker family were sitting round the table in the big kitchen. Miesje had lapped up her milk and was dozing by the stove, and Bob was eating large hunks of bread from his dish.
‘We had a marvellous time up in the hay-loft,’ Kees said, taking a tremendous bite out of his piece of bread and butter.
‘Just listen to the storm,’ his mother exclaimed.
‘There’s worse to come for it isn’t high tide yet,’ her husband replied and his face looked worried. ‘There’s no sign of the storm letting up.’
‘And then there’s tomorrow’s spring tide,’ Trui said as she got up from the table. She picked up the pot from the stove and poured out some more coffee.
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‘Dirk from the farm next door passed by this morning. He told me the water level was pretty high there,’ Jacob said as he held out his cup.
‘Do you think the sea-wall might give?’ Kees asked thoughtfully.
‘Don’t even say such things, Kees,’ his mother reprimanded him.
Kees quickly took another bite.
‘Things would have to get pretty bad for that to happen,’ Jacob the farm hand said. ‘The sea-wall can’t give way. It’s much too solid.’
At that moment they could all hear a terrific din on the roof.
‘Whatever can that be?’ Mrs. Wielemaker asked anxiously.
‘I think a few tiles must have come off,’ Jacob said. ‘I’ll go and have a look.’ He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and went out. Mr. Wielemaker, anxious to know what the trouble was, quickly followed him.
‘May I go, too, Mother?’ Kees asked.
‘You’ll stay right here indoors in this terrible weather.’
Mr. Wielemaker and Jacob were back very quickly. Their faces were flushed with the wind and their hair was all over their faces.
‘What was it?’ Mrs. Wielemaker asked anxiously.
‘Part of the chimney has blown off—at least half of it. The weather is terrible. I must say, I’m very worried.’
‘Are you worrying about the sea-wall?’ his wife asked.
Mr. Wielemaker shook his head. ‘No, not about that. It’s the house, the roof, the...’
Through the window they could hear the clatter of a pail being blown across the cement path by the washhouse.
Bob looked up from his dish and growled.
‘I wouldn’t worry, Mr. Wielemaker,’ Jacob said as he gulped down his coffee which had meanwhile got cold. ‘The house is as solid as a rock.’
Trui helped Mrs. Wielemaker clear the table. Mr. Wielemaker pushed his chair towards the stove and filled his pipe. Jacob took a newspaper and rolled a cigarette. Kees went to fetch a book and then sat down to read it.
A little later, his father switched on the wireless. The weather forecast said: ‘Further outlook: strong westerly gales.’
Saturday night was always the best time of the week, particularly in winter. Kees was allowed to stay up a bit longer, and usually played fox and geese with his father and Jacob.
The wind was moaning in the chimney at intervals, startling Mother with its violence. At one point, Kee’s father got up to see what was happening outside. As he opened the door, the wind rushed into the room and the calendar on the wall began to flap about. Bob and Miesje seemed to be quite happy about the storm. They were snuggled up close together by the stove. Sjaantje was upstairs in bed. Trui was knitting socks for Arie Jobson, who worked for Farmer Sanders and was going to marry her one day.
Mrs. Wielemaker was patching a pair of Kees’s trousers, while Kees himself was playing fox and geese with Jacob. But for the howling of the storm and an occasional exclamation from Kees about the game, there would have been dead silence in the kitchen.
At about nine o’clock, Mother looked at the grandfather clock and said, ‘Kees, it’s time you were in bed.’
‘Oh, Mother, do let me just finish this game.’
‘All right,’ Mother said, and threaded another piece of cotton into her needle. Kees hoped that the game would take a long time yet. It was so pleasant down there in the kitchen and his room upstairs was cold and dark.
Suddenly there was a tap on the window-pane. A moment later, they heard the front door open. Then there were footsteps in the hall and the sound of clogs being shaken off. It was Farmer Sanders.
When he had said ‘Good evening’ to everyone, he pulled up a chair, took out his tobacco pouch and offered it to Kees’s father.
‘The weather is really wicked tonight,’ he said. ‘There might easily be trouble.’
Mr. Wielemaker nodded. ‘That’s what I thought.’
‘Don’t worry; everything will turn out all right,’ Jacob said.
‘Don’t be too sure,’ Farmer Sanders told him as he slowly lit his pipe. ‘I don’t want to worry you, but the water is right up to the sea-wall.’
‘Do you mean...?’ Mr. Wielemaker asked in alarm.
Farmer Sanders nodded gravely as he pressed down the tobacco with his thumb. ‘I’m afraid it’s so,’ he said.
Kees had meanwhile beaten Jacob and, as the game was over, he really ought to have gone to bed. Fortunately for him, no one had a thought to spare for him. They were all very alarmed at the news Farmer Sanders had given them. If the water had come that far it meant that all the fields and meadows on the far side of the wall were under water already.
Wielemaker said, ‘What with tomorrow morning’s spring tide, I don’t know if we can...’
Farmer Sanders looked at his neighbour gravely. ‘I have just heard that our Mayor is very perturbed and so are the Reclamation Board people.’
‘Do you think...’ Mrs. Wielemaker hardly dared to ask it. ‘Do you think the wall itself might be breached?’
The men looked at one another for a moment. Suddenly Mr. Wielemaker stood up and took his windbreaker from behind the door.
‘Where are you going?’ his wife asked him.
‘Just to see for myself.’
Kees would have liked to ask his father to take him along, but he was pretty certain what his father would say to that. Best not draw any attention to his presence when he ought to have been in bed long ago.
And what an exciting evening it was, too! High water, floods...it all sounded so thrilling. He remembered a book he had once read about the floods in the fifteenth century which had destroyed large parts of the Dutch countryside and had cost hundreds of lives. It was a terribly exciting book—a bit frightening—but that was part of the reason he had liked it so much. He had always hoped to experience something like that himself.
Just then, Father and Farmer Sanders left the house. The calendar on the wall rustled again. Bob stood up, stretched, yawned and flopped down again. Suddenly a door started banging.
‘The door of the cow-shed has blown open,’ Jacob said. He stepped into his clogs and quickly ran out through the back door.
At last, Jacob was back. It had taken him a long time.
‘I could hardly get the door shut,’ he said as he wiped his face with a handkerchief. ‘There’s a frightful storm. I mopped up the stable floor while I was out, because the rain had come in something dreadful. A bit of the back fence has blown down, too. I put it up again but I don’t know if it’ll hold.’
Suddenly the door opened, and in came Sjaantje barefoot and wearing her blue nightie. The light dazzled her so much that she had to shield her eyes with her hands.
‘What are you doing down here?’ Mother asked.
‘I can’t sleep,’ she said. ‘The wind is so loud and there’s a terrific lot of clattering going on upstairs.’
‘Yes, it’s very bad,’ Mother agreed.
Kees was furious because now Mother was bound to remember that it was long past his bed-time. And so she did.
‘Kees is going up to bed, as well. Then you won’t be all by yourself any more. Hurry up, Kees. You ought to have been in bed long ago.’
He glared at Sjaantje crossly and said, sarcastically, ‘Thank you so much.’
Jacob patted him on the back and said, ‘Get along with you, you rascal. It’s high time you went up; I shall be turning in myself in a while.’
Kees would have given anything to stay downstairs now, when the evening was at its best. Trui had the coffee mill between her knees and was grinding coffee. The smell was wonderful.
Kees decided to make one more attempt. ‘But I haven’t said good night to Father yet.’
Jacob laughed. ‘What a dutiful son! Worried because he hasn’t said good night to his father!’
Kees admitted defeat, though not very graciously. Sulkily he left the kitchen.
‘And see that you go up with him,’ Mother said to Sjaantje. Jacob folded the fox and geese board and
put it behind the wireless, right next to Mr. Wielemaker’s tobacco pouch. Trui poured the freshly ground coffee into the blue coffee pot. Mrs. Wielemaker went on with her mending and at the same time listened to the storm, which was growing stronger all the time.
‘He’s out a long time,’ she said, at last, looking at the clock. A cow was moaning in the cow-shed.
Sjaantje hopped back into bed.
She was very pleased that Kees was upstairs with her. She had really been frightened by herself.
Their room was above the kitchen, and its left wall sloped down just under the eaves of the house. The sloping wall had a dormer window. As Kees was undressing he tried to look out. But he couldn’t see a thing. It was pitch dark outside and a cold draught was coming through the cracks. The curtains were fluttering.
On summer evenings you could watch the sunset from here, and the whole room would be a glowing red. If you were going towards the farm from the village at that time of day, it looked as if a part of the farmyard was on fire. That’s why their place had been called ‘Sunset Farm’.
It was against this side of the house that the storm was now raging. No wonder the forecast had said there would be westerly gales.
Brr! It was terribly cold. Kees pulled the blankets over his head. Sjaantje had fallen asleep; he could tell by the way she was breathing. Kees snuggled down inside. The sheets were cold but he knew they would soon warm up.
Downstairs he could hear the clock strike half past nine.
He felt quite pleased that he had been able to stay up that long. Geurt and Jaap were certain to have gone to bed hours before. He thought of what a wonderful time they had had together that afternoon. Tomorrow it would be Sunday and they had arranged to play again. Jaap was going to bring some pictures along, to pin up inside the tent. And Geurt was coming with his mouth organ. He could play any tune you cared to mention, as well as the hymns they learned at school.
Whatever was that terrific noise?
Another roof-tile had probably blown off. If you listened to the storm for long it sounded like some big, angry brute shouting and raging.
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