Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

by Ian Fleming

  Commander Pott sat gripping the wheel and chuckling with excitement and delight. “I told you so!” he shouted against the roar of the wind. “She’s got ideas of her own. She’s a magical car. Don’t worry! She’ll look after us!”

  He carefully turned the wheel to see what would happen. And, sure enough, the nose of the car followed what he did and after curving about a bit to get the feel of the steering, Commander Pott made straight for the tall steeple of Canterbury Cathedral in the distance, soaring over the long line of cars in which the poor people were roasting in the sunshine and sniffing up the disgusting gas fumes of the cars in front.

  Gradually, as they got confidence, Mimsie and Jeremy and Jemima sat back more comfortably in their seats and Jemima’s golden hair streamed out in the wind like a golden flag behind the car and Jeremy’s black mop blew about like a golliwog in a hurricane.

  Over the solid line of cars they flew—altitude five hundred feet, air speed one hundred miles per hour, engine temperature one hundred and twenty degrees, outside temperature seventy degrees, revolutions of propeller three thousand per minute, visibility five miles—over the river that runs through Canterbury down to the coast, over the houses and over the fields where the cows and the horses and the sheep stampeded about at the roaring noise of this big green dragon they had never seen before, and the shadow of CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG chased after them over the ground.

  Over Canterbury, Commander Pott insisted on circling the tall spire of the Cathedral so that the jackdaws and pigeons flew out of their nooks and crannies squawking and cooing with fright and excitement, and then they headed on over the trees and woods, taking a short cut away from the crowded Dover Road, toward the distant majesty of Dover Castle with its Union Jack flying from the topmost tower.

  And, of course, at that speed, in minutes they were over the castle, and again Commander Pott insisted on circling round so that the family (and CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG for the matter of that) could have a good look, and all the soldiers drilling on the square inside the castle walls look up, much to the rage of their sergeant major, and the sentries too. And between you and me, I think CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG was lucky to get away without being shot at by the soldiers because, after all, she had no proper aircraft markings, only her GEN II license plates, and, for all the soldiers knew, she might have been some new kind of foreign airplane come to attack the castle, or even a flying bomb, which was really quite what she looked like.

  But all went well and they flew on up the coast looking for a place to land to have their picnic beside the sparkling blue sea. But everywhere— St. Margaret’s Bay, Walmer, Deal, Sandwich, Ramsgate—all the beaches were crowded with fanlilies who had had the same idea as the Pott family, and CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG’S passengers became more and more gloomy as they saw the beautiful sands with their bathers and paddlers and shrimpers, and the rock pools that were certainly crawling with exciting crabs and eels and valuable shells, all crowded with rival holiday makers. And they all longed for a swim and to unpack the bulging picnic basket full of Mimsie’s delicious goodies.

  Then a curious thing happened. The steering wheel twisted, actually twisted, in Commander Pott’s hands as if CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG realized their disappointment and was taking control herself, and do you know what? CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG turned away from the coast and soared away over the English Channel straight out to sea.

  The family held their breath with excitement and Commander Pott wrestled with the wheel and began to look rather nervous. But then the green light started to blink on the dashboard, and now, instead of saying “PULL DOWN” as it had said before, it said “PUSH UP.”

  And gently Commander Pott pushed up the little silver lever and gently CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG began to lose height and plane softly downwards.

  “Heavens!” cried Mimsie. “She’s going to drop us in the sea! Now we really are in a mess! Get ready to swim, everyone. The cushions will float! Each one hang on to a cushion! The Deal lifeboat will see us and if we keep afloat we’ll be all right!”

  “Don’t worry, Mimsie darling,” shouted Commander Pott against the roar of the wind. “It’ll be all right. I think I know what

  CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG has got in mind. Look there where we’re heading for. Those are the Goodwin Sands—acres of beautiful sand that get uncovered during a low tide like this. Why, in summer they even have a football match on the sands. Dover and Deal play each other and get the game over before the tide comes in. Then they row away in boats. And there’s the famous South Goodwin Lightship. It’s got one of the loudest fog horns in the world and a great revolving light to warn ships away. See the masts of the sunken wrecks sticking up all along the edge of the sands? Probably more ships have been sunk on those sands—from Roman times on—than on any other dangerous rock or reef, or sands, or shoals in the world. All through the ages, it’s been a regular graveyard for ships

  “Any chance of finding treasure?” asked Jeremy excitedly.

  “I’m afraid there’s not a hope,” said Commander Pott sadly. “Whenever there’s a shipwreck on the Goodwins, particularly on dark or foggy nights, when of course most of the wrecks happen, wreck burglars—they have been known as ‘wreckers’ since olden times—swarm out from the coast in their sailing boats (they don’t use motorboats, so as to be as silent as possible and not warn the men on the lightship who might otherwise radio for a Royal Navy cutter or M.T.B. to come out from Dover and arrest the wreckers and put a guard on board the wreck). These wreckers come slipping softly out and steal everything they can find—they just simply strip the wrecked ship of all its cargo and everything movable and then silently steal away before dawn. So then, when the of official salvage craft and tugs, pull out from Dover in the morning to save what they can and perhaps even try and pull the Ship off the sands, they find an

  empty house, so to speak. The wreckers—the sea burglers—have stripped her clean as a plucked chicken, and of course, when the the police go hunting along the coast for wreckers, no one knows anything about it and there isn’t a sign of the loot because its all been rushed off inland to hideouts by the wrecker’s trucks that have been called up secretly. That’s how it goes. Just the same as in the bad old days when the wreckers used to shift buoys and warning lights at night to guide ships on to shoals and rocks. That was centuries ago—but the rascals are still at it. Dangerous work of course, putting out from the coast in a sloop or a cutter In a thick fog or storm, but these wreck burglars are tough, bad men and they ready to take a chance in exchange for a fat cargo of fine meat and butter from Denmark, or radios and television sets from Germany, or even, sometimes, bars of gold being shipped over to an English bank.”

  While Commander Pott had been telling these exciting things, CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG had been planing gently down toward the big expanse of beautiful golden sand lapped by the soft blue ripples of the English Channel and fringed by the masts and the half-sunken hulls of the wrecks that show up at low tide. The crew of the bright, redpainted lightship came up on deck and waved excitedly to them as they soared low overhead and then, as the green light on the dashboard went on winking and Commander Pott gently took his foot off the accelerator, the wheels automatically lowered themselves into position again and they came in to land on the hard, flat, golden surface. The aerocar ran a little way on the sand and then, as Commander Pott put on the brakes, CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG came to a gentle stop at the edge of the sea. At once, the red light on the dashboard showed again and now it said “PUSH UP” (no “IDIOT” this time).

  Commander Pott pushed up the little silver lever and there came the same low hum as the front and back wings slowly folded back to become mudguards again and the big propeller and generator out front slipped back until the two halves of the radiator closed over them. CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG gave a last two big sneezes and two soft bangs, then Commander Pott switched off the engine, and there was a perfectly good gleaming green car sitting quietly on the huge sandbank in the middle of
the sea.

  The whole family let out a big “POUFF” of relief and excitement and piled out of the magical car on to the warm sand.

  Then, even before they got into their swimming things and began exploring, all the family, of one accord, went up and patted CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG’S warm green hood just as if she’d been alive, and they all said, “Thank you, dear CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG, you’re a real marvel!”

  And, do you know, CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG seemed to let out a long sort of metallic sigh of contentment, which I expect was really only a little steam escaping from the hot radiator, and her big gleaming headlights seemed to dip slightly in modesty and shyness, just as Jemima’s eyes do when she’s complimented on doing particularly well at her lessons, or her dancing class, or at singing a song, or Jeremy’s when he wins a prize for lessons or games.

  Then the whole family made a dash to change into their swimming things. And after they had all swum about like dolphins and clambered about among the wrecks, where Jeremy found some quite interesting bits of machinery, and Jemima discovered an old compass that Commander Pott said he could easily clean up and repair, they sat down round Mimsie’s basket in the middle of the sands and between them they ate up every single hard-boiled egg, every single cold sausage, and every single strawberry jam puff. Then, happy and contented, they all lay down in the sunshine and, drowsy and full of good things, and really quite exhausted with all the excitements of the day, one by one they dozed off for a little rest before doing some more swimming and hunting for treasures.

  BUT—

  BUT—

  BUT—

  No one noticed that the tide was creeping in over the sands.

  No one noticed that the masts of the wrecks were getting lower in the water.

  No one heard the glug-glug-glug as the sea quietly, softly flowed into the half-sunken hulls of the wrecked ships.

  And no one—not one of the dozing family—noticed that the wheels of CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG were slowly, inch by inch, being submerged by the incoming tide. And no one realized that soon, very, very soon, the whole family, Commander Pott, Mimsie, Jeremy, and Jemima and CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG, who by now was really a member of the family, too—would be marooned out in the middle of the sea—THREATENED WITH MORTAL DANGER!!!

  Chapter Two

  TO MAKE MATTERS WORSE, one of those summer mists came creeping across the sea, hiding the family and their magical car from the Goodwin Lightship which lies anchored some way to the south of the Goodwins. To warn them and all shipping of the terrible danger of the sands, the lightship began sounding its great foghorn, which is one of the loudest in the world and blinking its dazzling white danger light.

  It was CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG who first woke up to the danger. You see, she had got very hot flying out to the sands and sitting in the sunshine, and as the sea came creeping up, glug-glugging in the hulls of the wrecks and whispering softly over the flat sand, the water gradually submerged the wheels of CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG. When it reached the bottom of her radiator, she let out a loud warning hiss from the hot metal.

  The family opened dozy eyes and then at once they were all on their feet and Commander Pott was running to the car. He jumped in and pressed the self-starter and, with a quick CHITTY! CHITTY! BANG! BANG! of relief, the big car, spinning her wheels in the wet sand so that the spray flew, crept up out of the incoming tide and was steered by Commander Pott up on to the dry center of the rapicily diminishing sandbank where the rest of the family was waiting.

  “Quick! Jump in!” he shouted. “We’ve just got room to take off.” But, as Jeremy and Jemima piled into the back seat and Mimsie got in front, already the first little waves had run up the flat sands after them and the bottoms of the tires were awash again.

  “My goodness, said Commander Pott anxiously. “Now we’ve had it! CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG can never get up enough speed to take off through the water. The only hope is that the lightship will realize

  the trouble we’re in and send their rescue boat for us. But that’ll mean leaving poor CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG marooned out here alone, and she’ll gradually be covered by the sea. During the night, she may easily be washed off the sands into deep water and we’ll lose her for ever!”

  They all sat there gloomily as the water glugged around them and the fog thickened and there was no sign of a rescue boat. They suddenly realized that they might all be drowned out there in the middle of the English Channel.

  All this while, CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG’S engine had been running steadily on, but very soon, any minute now, the level of the sea would be up to her electric generator; there would be the blinding blue flash of a short circuit and the engine would go dead.

  Suddenly, amongst the many dials and buttons and levers on the dashboard, a violet light began to blink urgently, showing the words “TURN THE KNOB.” And quickly, although Commander Pott didn’t know the secret of every one of the row upon row of gadgets on the dashboard, he turned the knob under the violet light, and from underneath the car there came a soft grinding of cogwheels and a curious lifting and shifting of the chassis so that the whole family peered out over the sides to see what was happening.

  And do you know what? I bet you can’t guess! All four wheels, pointing fore and aft as all car wheels do, had turned and had now flattened out like a hovercraft! Being an inventor, Commander Pott realized what this meant and what the result would be, so he pressed slowly on the accelerator and, just as the waves came up level with the floorboards, all foyer wheels began to turn like propellers. There was a jerk and CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG began to move through the water, just like a motorboat, with the four wheels whizzing round and round propelling her forward.

  Well, that was all very fine, but she was a heavy car with four people in her and the only way to keep from sinking was to go so fast that they were almost skimming over the surface. So Commander Pott trod the accelerator into the floorboards, there was a great whirl of spray from the four wheels, and CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG fairly sped across the surface of the sea, kicking up a big bow wave like a speedboat.

  Commander Pott had quite a tricky time dodging the masts of the sunken wrecks on the Goodwin Sands, weaving in and out of the tall, rusty iron spikes as if they were involved in some kind of watery maze—but a dangerous one— because if Commander Pott hadn’t whirled the wheel this way and that they would have ended up as just another Goodwin wreck. The fog swirled around them, the foghorn from the lightship gave its huge double hoot every two minutes and it really was pretty dangerous and spooky.

  To tell the truth, Mimsie and Jeremy and Jemima held their breath and clutched tight to the armrests, expecting any moment to hear a grinding crash and find themselves swimming for dear life. But, somehow, Commander Pott and CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG between them managed to dodge all the obstacles and soon they were in clear water and swooshing along through the fog.

  They had all let out a great “POUFF!” of relief when Jeremy, who had a good sense of direction, said, “But Daddy, aren’t we pointing the wrong way? There’s the boot of the Goodwin Lightship foghorn coming from down on the right. Oughtn’t we to sail toward her and then on past her toward Dover?”

  Commander Pott said sternly, “You mustn’t say ‘down to the right.’ We’re all sailors now. You must say ‘to starboard’—that’s naval language for ‘right.’ And at sea ‘left’ is ‘port.’” He twirled the wheel to the left so that CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG swirled to the left. “Now we’re going to port.” He turned the wheel to the right. “Now we’re going to starboard. Quite easy to remember. ‘Port’ and ‘left’ have fewer letters in them than ‘right’ and ‘starboard.’ ”

  “Well, yes,” said Jeremy, “that sounds easy. But still, Daddy, whichever way you’re going, to port or starboard, I bet you’re going the wrong way—away from England, I mean.”

  At this, Commander Caractacus Pott put on his “secret” face—the face he wore around Christmas time when Jeremy and Jemima asked if they w
ere going to get what they had asked Father Christmas for, and the face he put on when, for instance, he was preparing the Easter egg hunt. All of them, Mimsie and Jeremy and Jemima, recognized their father’s “secret” face and waited excitedly for what was to come as CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG sped on through the fog, throwing up fountains of spray from her whirling wheels, while the sound of the Goodwin Lightship’s foghorn got farther and farther away.

  “Well,” said Commander Pott in his “surprise” voice (he also had a particular voice for springing surprises with), “it’s the holidays, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” they chorused.

  “So we’d all like to have a holiday adventure. Right?”

  “Yes,” they said breathlessly.

  “Well,” said Commander Pott, “CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG is going like smoke. The Channel’s as flat as a millpond. We’ve got plenty of gas and the oil pressure’s fine, the engine temperature’s all right, and the fog will lift the farther we get away from land and it can’t be more than about twenty-five miles now to the other side of the Channel and we’re doing about thirty knots and a naval knot is 1.15 miles per hour, which gives us a speed of about thirty-five miles per hour, so the whole trip would take less than an hour. And as it’s only just five o’clock now,” he paused for breath, “and as we’ve never been abroad, I thought it would be rather fun to GO TO FRANCE!”

  “Good heavens!” said Mimsie.

  “Gosh!” said Jemima. “My hat!” said Jeremy.

  And, for a moment, they all sat thinking about this colossal adventure. Then Mimsie said, “But we haven’t got any passports!”

  And Jeremy said, “But don’t they have different money in France—francs they’re called. What about francs?”

  And Jemima said, “What about the language? I’ve only learned ‘oui’ which means ‘yes,’ and ‘non’ which means ‘no.’ That’s not going to get me very far.”