Springleg, caught unawares, froze. “I was just …” he began.
Cook was not prepared to listen to any excuses. “No jam for you, my lad!” he shouted. “No jam this term.”
Tanya had been standing nearby. “Oh, Cook!” she pleaded. “Wallace can’t help himself when it comes to jam. He really can’t. Please don’t be too hard on him.”
Cook glared at the greedy boy. “All right,” he said. “You’ll be let off lightly this time, but this is your last chance – your very last chance.”
Wallace Springleg looked relieved. “Oh, thank you, Cook,” he said. “I promise I won’t do it again.”
“I should hope not,” said Cook. “Dirty fingers stuck into the food are unhygienic.” He paused. “One hour of onion duty for you, young man.”
This was Springleg’s punishment, and it was not a pleasant one. Onion duty, which involved peeling a large pile of onions, was probably the least popular of all kitchen tasks. People who did it cried and cried because, as everyone knows, peeling onions always makes your eyes water.
Fee and Poppy were on laundry duty. A ship full of people needs a large supply of towels, and these have to be folded and put in cabins. Once they had done this, there were various other tasks that Matron had for them, including handing out soap, shampoo and tubes of toothpaste. This kept them busy until lunch-time, which was just a quick snack, as there was no time to waste if the Tobermory was to leave on the outgoing tide.
At last everything was ready. The signal flag announcing the ship’s departure – the Blue Peter – was run up, and then, with a great creaking and clanking, the anchor chain was pulled in. The anchor itself came up covered in mud, and it was the responsibility of Angela, Tanya and Amanda Birtwhistle to wash the mud off with a high-pressure hose. Once this was done, the last few links of chain could be drawn in and the anchor stowed safely under the ship’s prow.
Ben stood at the ship’s rail and watched the town of Tobermory with its pretty coloured houses slip away behind them. Large white seagulls dipped and wheeled behind them, screeching to one another. They were used to following fishing boats and would be hoping for scraps of fish to be thrown out. After a while, realising they would get nothing from the Tobermory, they went off in search of better pickings.
They headed first north and then west, passing the great headland of Ardnamurchan. It was a clear day, with good visibility, and from where he was standing on deck, Ben could make out a cluster of islands off their starboard side. There was Skye, one of the biggest of the Scottish islands, with its towering mountains, soft blue in the distance. There was the island of Rum, a great sugarloaf rising out of the smooth surface of the sea. There was the tiny island of Muck, with its low hills and concealed harbour. And there, far away on the horizon, was a thin strip of land that was the Outer Hebrides. They would have to sail round those islands to reach St Kilda, far out in the ocean to the west.
The wind was in their favour – a stiff southwesterly breeze that quickly filled each sail as it was unfurled. With the ship’s engines turned off, the wind was powerful enough to propel the ship at ten knots across the blue expanse of sea.
They could not do the whole of the journey that day, and would sail first to a small island called Canna, where they would anchor for the night. Then, the following morning, after breakfast, they would continue to the Outer Hebrides. That journey would take them across the Minch, a stretch of water known for being rough if a big wind blew up.
They arrived at Canna shortly before six. Because it was summer, darkness only came much later, and the sun was still blazing brightly in the west. Once the anchor was down and safely embedded on the floor of the bay, Mr Rigger announced that a liberty boat – one of the Tobermory’s small rowing boats – would take people ashore if they wanted to explore the island before dinner.
Ben found himself going ashore with Rory Quinn, his new cabin-mate, and his friend Thomas Seagrape. Thomas had come to the Tobermory all the way from the Caribbean, where his mother was the skipper of a small ship that sailed between Jamaica and some of the neighbouring islands.
Now, in the company of Thomas and Rory, Ben set off to take a look around the small island. They climbed a hillside, startling grazing sheep that obviously saw few visitors, and then made their way down to a small cove. There was a tiny beach there – just big enough to allow a rowing boat to land – and on it they discovered a washed-up piece of wood that looked as if it had once been part of a sailing ship.
“Do you think this comes from a shipwreck?” asked Rory.
Ben examined the piece of wood. It was curved, like the ribs of an old wooden vessel, and there were rough, uneven holes where nails had once been. It must be very old, he thought, as the action of the sea had made the edges smooth.
He answered Rory’s question. “Probably. There have been plenty of wrecks around here.”
Thomas added something that he had heard from one of Mr Rigger’s history lessons. Mr Rigger taught naval history as well as seamanship, and his lessons in the history of sailing were one of the most popular classes on the ship. “Mr Rigger told us,” Thomas began, “that there were wreckers around here. Over a hundred years ago.”
Ben shivered. He had read about wreckers, people who lured ships to their doom by making fires on cliffs. Thinking the fire was there to guide them, and confused in the darkness, sailors would steer their craft onto rocks. As the tide went out, the wreckers would comb the shore for the washed-up cargo from the shipwreck. They would also carry off what was left of the ship itself, stripping its broken timbers and anything else of value that they could salvage. It was hard to believe that people would do such a terrible thing – but they did.
Rory looked at his watch. “We need to get back,” he said. “The boat will be leaving in half an hour and Mr Rigger said we mustn’t be late.”
They left the piece of timber on the shore where they had found it. Following the rough track that led back up the hill, they made their way towards to the bay. This took them across a wide field bordered on all four sides by a wall made of uneven stones, stacked one on top of another. They noticed a group of grazing cattle not far away – the small, Highland cattle that peer out from under shaggy fringes of their caramel-coloured coats.
Having no time to waste, the three boys took no notice of the cattle and hurried across the field. But that did not stop the cattle from noticing them. As the boys came closer, one of the cows, who had a calf with her, lowered her head and looked angrily in their direction. Then, without warning, she began to run towards them, bellowing aggressively. This breed of cattle is famous for fiercely protecting its calves, and this cow was now proving just how much that reputation is deserved.
It took the boys a few moments to react, but once they realised what was happening, they all took flight together.
“Run for it!” shouted Ben. “As quick as you can!”
They knew that safety lay over the wall. They did not have far to go, and could all easily have made it, had it not been for Ben’s failure to see a twisted tree-root in his way. Catching his shoe, the exposed root brought him to the ground with a thump, and he landed flat on his face, the wind knocked out of him and a sharp pain stabbing his leg. Glancing back from behind the wall, Rory, who had made it to safety with Thomas, saw Ben on the ground and the furious cow gaining on him.
From where he was, all Ben saw was the grass in front of him. Then, moving his head slightly, he saw the cow rushing forwards, head lowered, ready to stamp on him. But then he suddenly saw something else. Rory had jumped back over the wall and was running towards him, waving his arms and shouting at the top of his voice. It took Ben a moment or two, but then he realised what Rory was doing.
Completely unconcerned for his own safety, Rory was doing his best to distract the angry cow. And it worked. Hearing the shouts of the other boy, the cow suddenly stopped in its tracks, bellowed a warning, and then changed direction. It was a dangerous thing to do, but it gave Ben the time he needed to get to
his feet. His leg felt sore but, with difficulty, he was able to run. Reaching the safety of the wall, he hoisted himself up and over it, just in time to see Rory doing the same thing – only a few paces ahead of his pursuer.
They were both safe. Had the cow reached either of them, it could have been a very different outcome. Cattle are heavy, and have sharp horns.
Ben looked at his two friends. “We made it,” he said, his voice flooding with relief. And then, turning to Rory, he said, “You saved my life. Thank you!”
The other boy seemed embarrassed. “I didn’t really,” he protested. “And anyway, you’d have done the same for me.”
Ben thought that was not the point. It did not matter whether or not he would have done the same thing for Rory – the important thing was that Rory had acted with astonishing bravery. And it was not as if Rory was an old friend, somebody he had known for years – the two of them had only just met. An old friend might be expected to take risks for you, but would you expect the same of somebody you barely knew?
Rory looked at his watch. “It’s getting late,” he said.
Ben nodded. “Yes, we should get back. But let me say this, Rory: I really owe you one.”
“Nonsense,” said Rory dismissively. “Nobody owes anybody anything.”
Thomas gave the new boy a friendly pat on the back. He had seen clearly what had happened, and he would not forget it in a hurry. Rory was a good friend to have, he decided, and he thought that Ben was lucky to share a cabin with him.
Fortunately for Ben, he was not badly hurt. When he got back to the Tobermory, he made his way, hobbling a bit, to the sick bay, where Matron examined his leg and pronounced it unbroken.
“You’ve twisted your ankle,” she said. “But don’t worry, it’ll heal quickly. I’ll rub some of my ointment on it, if you like.”
“Thank you,” said Ben.
Matron’s ointment was famous. It had a strong smell and warmed the skin. Matron used it for just about everything, and it always made people feel much better. The recipe was a secret known only to her and Cook, who prepared it for her in the galley of the Tobermory.
“Mind you,” said Matron, as she worked the ointment into Ben’s ankle, “it could have turned out much worse, couldn’t it?”
Ben nodded. “The cow would have been on top of me if it hadn’t been for Rory Quinn. I think he saved my life.”
“Rory Quinn?” enquired Matron. “Is he that new boy from Ireland?”
“Yes, this is his first time on board,” said Ben. “We’re sharing a cabin.”
Matron frowned. “You and Rory? But I thought you shared with Badger Tomkins.”
Ben took a moment to answer, as losing the friendship of Badger still hurt, and it was not the sort of pain that could be helped by Matron’s ointment. “Badger and I used to share,” he replied, “but he’s moved out.”
“Oh yes?” said Matron, curious to know why the two boys were no longer sharing, but it was clear that Ben didn’t want to say any more.
“And are you and Rory getting on all right?” she asked.
Ben nodded. “I think we’ll be fine,” she said.
“Well, he’s certainly very brave,” Matron said. “It sounds like he’s a good friend to have.”
Ben agreed. “Yes, I think he is.”
Applying a little more ointment to his ankle, Matron gave it a final rub and told him he was free to go. He should be careful about doing too much running about over the next day or two, but he would be fine. Ben thanked her.
That evening, as they prepared for bed, Ben was keen to know more about Rory and asked where he had been at school before joining the Tobermory.
“Ireland,” said Rory. “Have you ever been to Ireland, Ben?”
Ben told him that he hadn’t. He was thinking, though, of Rory’s answer. It did not tell him all that much, he decided, and so he asked, “Where about in Ireland?”
“Dublin,” said Rory, and then immediately changed the subject and began to quiz Ben about the Outer Hebrides.
Rory was keen to know more about their voyage, and Ben told him what he knew about the islands they would sail past the following day. He and Fee had been there several times with their parents in the family submarine. They had visited a stone circle where, thousands of years ago, there had been a human settlement, and he spoke about that for a while. Then Rory asked Ben about the staff. Did he like Mr Rigger? Was it true that Matron was an expert diver? What about the Captain’s dog – was it really true, as he had overheard somebody say, that Henry had once rescued a mermaid?
Ben answered as best he could. When it was time for lights out, he realised that although he and Rory had been talking for a long time, he had found out very little about the other boy. All he knew was that he was Irish, that he had gone to school in Dublin, and a few other minor details. He had discovered that Rory had once had a dog. He had learned that Rory had a brother who was younger than he was and who was keen on football. But that was about it.
Ben was puzzled about this. He knew that you don’t have to tell your friends everything about yourself. He knew that there are plenty of people who do not like to say much about where they come from, about what they like, or about who their friends are, but it was unusual to be quite so secretive. He wondered whether Rory was hiding something from him. And if he was, then what could it be?
Once he asked himself that, he started to think about various possibilities – many of them ridiculous. Everybody knows that if you are running away from something, one of the options is to go to sea. People have always done that. Had Rory done something – perhaps even committed a crime – that had made him run off to join the crew of the Tobermory? Or what if he had run away from home and found some relative who had been prepared to pay for him to go off to ship school? That was just possible, Ben decided, although unlikely. If there were a mystery surrounding Rory, Ben suspected it would be something different. But it could still be a surprise, and Ben hoped that sooner, rather than later, he would find out what it was.
Badger turns violent
“This is a very famous stretch of water,” said Miss Worsfold to her class the next day. “Look out of the portholes, everybody, and tell me what you see.”
Fee, who was sitting next to Poppy in Miss Worsfold’s geography class, exchanged glances with her friend. Miss Worsfold was well known for asking trick questions. A simple question would seem to have a simple answer, but this might be quite different from the answer that the teacher expected. And when Miss Worsfold finally gave the answer, it always seemed so obvious.
Amanda Birtwhistle, who was sitting next to one of the portholes, craned her neck to look out, and then turned back to face the class. “Sea,” she said. “There’s sea outside, Miss Worsfold.”
A couple of the boys, including Wallace Springleg, laughed at this response. “That’s what you usually see when you look out of a porthole,” said Wallace. “You see sea.” And then he added, “See?”
There was laughter – and a smile from Miss Worsfold. “That’s true,” she said. “There’s certainly sea out there. But what else?”
Amanda peered out of the porthole once again. “An island in the distance,” she said. “A big one. That must be …”
“Skye,” said Miss Worsfold. “Remember, we sailed past the Isle of Skye yesterday. And if you look the other way you’ll see – in the distance – some more islands: the Outer Hebrides.”
There was a long pause.
“But some parts of the sea are more interesting than others,” Miss Worsfold said at last. “Some parts of the sea have a bit of history connected with them. And this part, everybody, has some very special history.”
It was at this point that Fee remembered. She had read about this stretch of sea, and now it came back to her. She put up her hand.
“Yes, Fee?” said Miss Worsfold.
“It was a long time ago,” Fee began. “There was somebody called Bonnie Prince Charlie who claimed to be King of Scotla
nd, and the whole of Britain too. He was in France, I think, and …”
Now Poppy remembered too. “Yes, of course. He was in France but he wanted to come back to claim his throne from the people who had taken it. And he was chased through the Highlands and eventually had to flee.”
Miss Worsfold nodded. “Exactly. And he had to get over to Skye – a very difficult crossing in a small boat, and dangerous too. He was disguised as a woman. He wore a dress so that he would not be recognised.”
She paused. “This is the precise route he took. If we could go back a few hundred years we might see his boat crossing right here.”
Everybody was quiet for a moment as they imagined what it would be like to make the journey all the way across to Skye in a tiny little rowing boat.
Miss Worsfold now went on to remind them about St Kilda, the group of islands the Tobermory would visit once they had sailed round the Outer Hebrides. Life had been particularly hard there, she said, because the islands were so isolated.
“Forty miles may not sound like very much today,” she said. “But in those days boats were much slower and very few people made long sea journeys. Or, if they did, they didn’t make them without a very good reason.”
“How did they live?” asked Wallace Springleg. “What did the people on St Kilda eat?”
Poppy smiled, and nudged Fee. “Wallace is always thinking of his stomach,” she said.
Miss Worsfold gave the answer. “Birds’ eggs,” she said. “Birds’ eggs and fish. And sometimes a bit of mutton.” She paused. “Oh, and seaweed for their greens. They would also dry the seaweed and make flour out of it. They used the flour for bread.”
Wallace wrinkled his nose. “Disgusting,” he said. “Birds’ eggs? Disgusting!”
“If you had nothing else,” said Miss Worsfold, “then you had no choice.”
“You’d eat birds’ eggs if you were hungry enough, Wallace,” whispered Amanda. “You’d eat anything.”
“What happened to the people?” asked Poppy. “Are they still there?”
The Secret of the Dark Waterfall Page 3