“And all for Dick’s birds,” said Nancy. “Whoever would have believed it? Jiminy, Professor! I don’t care whether they’re nesting or not. This is better than anything that’s happened yet. Three cheers for natural history. Great Auks and Guillemots! I never thought birds could be half such fun.”
“I’m almost sure they’re nesting,” said Dick.
“That fellow thinks so too,” said Captain Flint. “He thinks you’re really on to something, and he isn’t going to let go in a hurry. We’re going to have our work cut out to diddle him. Four times our speed. If he sees us go and catches us at sea, we haven’t a chance of throwing him off.”
“We want ten miles start,” said John. “Or a good thick fog.”
“Fog’s no use to us,” said Nancy. “We’d never have got into Scrubbers’ Bay if I hadn’t taken us to right off the opening before it came on. And we couldn’t do it now.”
“Trouble is, it’s so light at night up here,” said Captain Flint.
“If he goes ashore,” said Dorothea, “what about a Press Gang or something to keep him there till it’s too late to follow us?”
“We’ll find a way,” said Captain Flint.
“What do we do now?” asked Titty.
“Nothing,” said Captain Flint. “Just nothing. Keep him wondering. Keep him watching us till he’s sick of the sight.”
“Come on, Peggy,” said Susan, “we’d better get the animals fed. Where did you put those loaves, John?”
“Gosh!” said John. “We forgot all about getting them. At least I did. We were thinking about shifting her to the buoy.”
“Well, we’re very hungry,” said Roger. “Anybody would be.”
“I want some milk too, if we can get it. And we’ve run out of chocolate. And eggs.”
“Hen eggs,” said Roger. “Not Great Northern’s.”
“Nobody wants the dinghy,” said Susan. “Peggy and I’ll row across to the shops before they shut.”
The two cooks went down into the dinghy, rowed away and landed at some steps below the quay.
“Hullo,” said Roger. “The old Dactyl’s hungry too.”
Mr Jemmerling was standing at the rail of the Pterodactyl, talking to one of his men who was already in the Pterodactyl’s dinghy. They saw the man glance over his shoulder at the quay. He pushed off, rowed away as fast as he could, and was presently tying up his boat at the steps where Peggy and Susan had left theirs. He went up the steps and looked up and down the quay. He sat down on a bollard, as if he were waiting for somebody. They saw him fill a pipe and light it.
“He isn’t in a hurry,” said Roger.
“Everybody isn’t as hungry as you,” said Nancy. Suddenly her voice changed. “Jiminy,” she cried, jumping up. “That beast’s sent him to wait for our cooks. He’ll find things out from Peggy … She’s simply bound to blurt everything out if he asks her. It’s too far to swim. Let’s get the folding boat out quick….”
“Too late,” said Captain Flint.
Susan and Peggy had just come out of a shop on the quay and were looking into the window of another. The Pterodactyl’s man was crossing the road towards them.
“We can’t do anything now,” said John.
“Susan’ll never tell him,” said Titty.
“Jibbooms and Bobstays!” exclaimed Nancy. “Peewits and Puffins, I mean … Peggy’s letting him carry her basket. She’s always ready to chatter to anyone.”
“The innocent child was easy prey for the smooth-tongued, smiling villain,” murmured Dorothea and, though really worried, fumbled in her pocket for a pencil.
“They’re going into the shop together,” said Roger.
“Do you think she really will tell him?” said Roger.
“We’ll drown her if she does,” said Nancy.
“But it’ll be too late,” said Dick.
There was horrified silence aboard the Sea Bear as they saw Susan and Peggy come out of the shop with the Pterodactyl’s sailor, now loaded up with loaves of bread as well as the shopping basket. They could see that he was talking to his new-made friends, as the three of them crossed the quay and came down the steps. They watched the Sea Bear’s cooks step into their dinghy and take basket and loaves from the sailor. They saw the sailor pull his forelock and then, as Susan rowed towards the Sea Bear, they saw the sailor go sculling back to the Pterodactyl. Nobody said a word until Susan and Peggy had handed up the provisions and come aboard.
“That was a sailor from the Pterodactyl,” said Peggy cheerfully.
“What did you tell him?” asked Nancy, very grim.
Peggy grinned. “We saw him rowing after us,” she said, “and when he came and spoke to us we had everything ready.”
“What did you tell him?” asked Nancy again.
“He said, ‘Where might you be voyaging in that bonny wee ship of yours?’ and I said we’d got to take her back to her owner.”
“Good for you,” said Captain Flint.
“Not bad,” said Nancy.
“It was Susan’s idea,” said Peggy.
“Well, so we have,” said Susan. “And when he asked where her owner was, it was quite all right to say he worked in Glasgow.”
“And then what?” said Nancy. “You didn’t let out about Scrubbers’ Bay?”
“He said something about meeting us at sea, and Susan said she remembered a motor boat steering across our bows, and was that him? He was a bit sheepish, but he plucked up again and asked, ‘And where have you been since then?’ and we both explained that we were the cooks and didn’t exactly know. We told him how puzzling charts are, with figures all over the place.”
“Gosh!” said Roger. “I wish I’d been there.”
“You wouldn’t have done any better,” said John. “Probably worse.”
“You’ve both done splendidly,” said Captain Flint. “He’s learnt nothing and we’ve learnt a lot. I thought he’d made up his mind to find Dick’s birds. Now we know he has. His only hope is to follow us, and follow us he will if we give him a chance. We’ve got to get away without his knowing. None too easy. He’ll be watching us. Down below everybody. Don’t keep staring at him. We’re a lazy ship with a bone-idle crew and we take no interest in anybody … least of all in a chap like that.”
“There’s just one thing I must do first,” said John. “It’s the staysail block. It squeaks like a canary.”
“More like a cockatoo,” said Roger.
“He’d hear it right across the harbour,” said John.
“All right. Up you go and give it a touch of grease.”
John went up to the cross-trees and greased that block till it made no noise at all. Then he came below to find everybody in the cabin and ready for a monster meal.
“Tea,” said Susan, “and supper.”
“And likely enough breakfast too,” said Nancy. “We don’t know what’s going to happen in the night.”
Every now and then during that tremendous meal, somebody slipped through into the fo’c’sle to look through a porthole at the Pterodactyl. For a long time the egg-collector himself was sitting in a deck-chair, watching the Sea Bear. Then he disappeared, but left a sailor on deck, who seemed to have nothing to do.
They were washing up after the meal when they heard the sudden patter of rain overhead.
“Oh I say,” said John. “And the sails aren’t stowed.”
“They’ll take no harm,” said Captain Flint. “Don’t go on deck. First bit of luck for us. A cloudy night’s the very best thing we could have hoped for.”
“The rain’s driven that sailor in,” said Titty.
“Do you think they’ve stopped watching?” said Dick.”
“Not they,” said Nancy. “I bet there’s somebody in the deckhouse all the time, and they’re ready to start the moment they see us move.”
“When are we going to?” asked Roger.
Captain Flint was looking at the tide tables. “We’ll want the ebb to help us,” he said, as much to himself as
to anybody else. “High tide close on nine. Ebb’ll run till getting on for three. We must be off before then if we’re to do any good. Look here. Everybody had better get to bed. Put in all the sleep you can.”
Nobody wanted to turn in so early, and for half an hour or so they waited, someone going up the companion ladder every few minutes to look out at the rain, and bringing back the cheerful news that there was a grey sky, and a steady drizzle that would be as useful as a fog. At last Susan put her foot down, and reminded them that they wouldn’t be much good if they were to sail in the middle of the night and had had no sleep before starting.
“Dick’s asleep now,” whispered Dorothea, and pointed to him.
Dick, tired right out by the shock of finding his bird-man an egg-collector instead of a friend, by worry over his birds, by the disappointment of finding Captain Flint would neither change his plans nor even agree to leaving Dick and Dorothea behind, and then by joy at finding not only the rest of the crew ready to help him but Captain Flint himself throwing all plans overboard and agreeing to do exactly what he wanted, was asleep over his bird-book.
“Sensible chap,” said Captain Flint. “No. Don’t wake him. Let him sleep. Get into your bunks, you others. I’ll wake you when the time comes.”
“Sleep in our clothes?” asked Nancy.
“As you like,” said Captain Flint. “Susan, lend me your alarm clock.”
“It makes an awful noise,” said Susan.
“Muffle it in a towel,” said Nancy, “and shove it under your pillow.”
It was darkish in the cabin when Dick woke but though the lantern was not lit other people were still awake. He had hardly moved before he felt Captain Flint’s hand on his knee.
“You can get into your bunk without a light, old chap,” he heard him say. “We put out lights an hour ago, and we want him to think we’re all snoring.”
“Has it stopped raining?”
“No, but I’m afraid it will.”
“Can’t we start now?”
“Not yet,” said Captain Flint. “He’s still got his eye on us. Look at that….”
There was a sudden flash of brighter light through the portholes on one side. The open companion way was lit up and the white sail hanging in folds from the boom above it.
“That’s his searchlight again,” Dick heard Nancy say.
“Every half hour,” said Captain Flint. “We’ve got to wait until he’s sick of doing that.”
“We really are going back?” said Dick.
“We are. You roll into your bunk and go to sleep.”
CHAPTER XIII
GIVING HIM THE SLIP
JOHN, LYING IN his bunk neither asleep nor awake, felt a hand on his knee. He opened his eyes. It was darkish in the cabin and for a moment he was puzzled by two spots of light, one red and one green, on the cabin floor at the foot of the companion steps.
“We’ve got to take our chance now,” he heard Captain Flint whisper.
“Has he stopped watching us?” asked John.
“An hour and a half since he last turned that searchlight on us. Daren’t wait any longer or we’ll be late for the tide. It’s stopped raining, worse luck, but there’s a north-west wind.”
“Shall I wake Nancy?”
“Blooming cheek,” he heard another whisper. “If it hadn’t been for me we’d have left you snoring.”
“Don’t knock the navigation lights over. We won’t bring them on deck till we have to.”
John slid quietly out of his bunk, put on his shoes, wriggled into a warm sweater, tip-toed between the red and green lanterns and went on deck.
It was not dark, though no stars were showing, but it was very cold. A lamp glimmered faintly on the quay. Rippled water broke its reflections. A riding light dimly lit the deck of the Pterodactyl where she lay asleep a hundred yards away.
“Wind north-west,” said Captain Flint again. “Couldn’t ask better for getting out of here. Ready? Good. Slip along forrard. You get the staysail up. I’ll give her a sheer to starboard and Nancy will let slip from the buoy. We won’t start playing with the mainsail till we’re outside….”
John went forward. Away to the south he could see the revolving flash of a lighthouse … a long flash, repeated three times in every minute. Over the land, to the north-east, a double flash, seen only as a sudden pale loom in the dark sky, showed where the lighthouse on the Head was hidden by the higher ground of the long promontory.
“I’ve cast off the tyers already,” whispered Nancy. “And we left it ready for hoisting. But look out for the flapping when it goes up.”
John found the staysail halliard. A good thing that he had belayed it himself after greasing the block, and could put his hand on it at once. He glanced up the dim height of the mast. Was that block going to squeak or was it not?
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Half a minute. I haven’t got hold of the knot yet. Give me a hand. There’s a pretty hard pull on the warp. Now….”
Suddenly Captain Flint was beside them, putting his weight on the warp as well as theirs. “That’s right. We can’t use the winch.”
“She’s coming,” said Nancy. “I’ve got the knot … Now. One second. All ready to slip….”
“Don’t want her drifting,” said Captain Flint. “And we’d better have no shouting. Just say one word, ‘Now,’ quietly, the moment we’ve slipped. We’d have done better to take the warp to the stern, but I think she’ll come round all right. Plenty of room.”
THE SEARCHLIGHT
“Aye, aye, Sir,” whispered John.
“I’ve taken a turn with the end of the rope,” said Nancy. “I can slip any minute you like.”
“Give him time to get back to the tiller … Now. Nancy, I’m hoisting.”
Hand over hand he hauled on the halliard and the big staysail went up. “Not a squeak from that block,” said John to himself. There was a single flap of canvas, but only one. John grabbed at the port sheet and quietened the sail. “Quick, quick,” he whispered.
There was the faintest splash as the warp dropped in the water.
“Now,” said John.
The lamp on the far away quay, the white Pterodactyl, the houses of the town, the darker hills against the sky were swinging round. The lamp on the quay showed wide on the beam … on the quarter … astern … The flash of the lighthouse that he had seen as he came out of the companion now showed ahead. The Sea Bear, no longer facing the ebb, was moving with it.
Nancy coiled down the wet end of the warp as she hauled it aboard.
“We’d better stay where we are,” she said. “He’ll want a look-out.”
The Sea Bear was gathering speed. With the ebb tide under her, and the north-west breeze filling her staysail she was moving towards the dim grey pierheads of the harbour mouth.
“He’s got the lighthouse to steer for,” said John, as the point of light swelled to a white flash, swept round the sky and dwindled to a point of light once more.
“John!”
John scrambled aft.
“Take the tiller while I rig our navigation lights. We don’t need them, but you never know. There may be a fisherman coming in or some busybody to shout from the shore to know what we are doing without them. It’s not the lights that matter now, but a shout carries a long way over water … Here you are. Keep the lighthouse fine on the starboard bow.”
“Fine on the starboard bow, Sir,” said John, and took the tiller, warm from the skipper’s hand.
A moment later the two lanterns were on deck, and John saw that Captain Flint was taking no risks. He was being careful not to let them show a glimmer of red or green astern to anybody aboard a boat in the harbour who might happen to be looking through a porthole. One at a time, they were taken forward and fixed in their places on the shrouds.
“Have we done him?” John heard Nancy ask.
“He hasn’t turned that searchlight on again,” said Captain Flint.
He came aft. “Our ligh
ts are pretty dim,” he said. “But nobody can say we haven’t got them.”
John gave up the tiller and looked back across the harbour to the faint gold speck that showed where the riding light hung from the Pterodactyl’s forestay. It was still there. Nothing had changed. The egg-collector and his men were still asleep.
“Gosh! When they find we’ve gone!”
“We want all the start they’ll give us,” said Captain Flint. “And we’ve only just got away in time. Dawn’ll be on us before we know where we are.”
“What about the mainsail?”
“As soon as we’re clear outside.”
The Sea Bear had slipped away without a sound. Her tired crew, all but the three on deck, slept in their bunks and did not, unless in dreams, know that she was moving. With the wind off the land, the ebb tide carrying her with it, and only the big staysail pulling, she slid out of harbour like a ghost.
Half an hour later, as she began to lose the shelter of the shore, a gentle murmur began under her forefoot. It grew louder. Dorothea was the first one to hear it down below. “Wind,” she thought. “There must be a lot of it to make that noise when we’re in harbour.” She heard new noises, the rattle of blocks, the flap of heavy canvas, the creaking of the gaff as it swayed aloft, all the noises that go with the hoisting of the mainsail. Then she guessed. In a moment she was out of her bunk, tip-toeing in the fo’c’sle and looking through a porthole. The dim grey light before the dawn showed a rocky shore slipping quickly past.
“Dick,” she said, prodding urgently into his bunk, “we’ve started.”
Dick reached for his spectacles, rolled out of his bunk and joined her at the porthole.
“Hullo,” said Roger, sitting up and then “Hey! They’ve started without us. What beasts!” He wasted no time in looking through portholes, pushed past Dick and Dorothea and was before them in scrambling up the companion steps.
They came on deck to find John at the tiller, and the mainsail just going up, with Captain Flint and Nancy at the halliards. Looking aft they could see the pierheads of the harbour they had left, already far astern.
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