We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea. Arthur Ransome

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      It had been still dusk when they went into the inn, but those few minutes had made a difference. Lights had sprung up everywhere. There was a string of blazing lamps over the Parkeston quays at the other side of the river. There were lights in Harwich town, and lights far away across the harbour in Felixstowe. The flashes from the buoys that had been hardly visible by day kept sparkling out, now here, now there, the white flash of Shotley Spit buoy, the red one of the Guard buoy, and others of which they did not know the names. There were riding lights on all the anchored barges and on the ships in the harbour. The wind had dropped to nothing, and long glittering lanes led from every light across he smooth water. And there, a little way above the pier, lay the Goblin, she too with a light on her forestay, and the glimmer of the cabin lamp showing through her portholes.

      They climbed down the steps in the dusk, found the Imp, and pushed off.

      “We’re going to sleep in her,” said Titty, almost under her breath, as they drifted silently towards the Goblin with her riding light, and her tall mast dimly showing against the darkening sky.

      “Pretty soon, too,” said Susan. “It’s after your bed-time already.”

      They climbed aboard.

      “Take the painter a moment, John, while I hang a bucket on the Imp’s bows.

      “What for?”

      “To catch the tide, so that she won’t come nuzzling round. knocking us up in the middle of the night.”

      It was done, and the Imp went astern, to lie quietly, a black blot on the dark water.

      Roger, as soon as he was aboard, had dodged down below and scrambled up again through the forehatch. The others were still in the cockpit when the penny whistle broke into the quiet night. . . We won’t go home till morning. . . We won’t go home till mooooorning.” The musician, sitting on the cabin top, was getting through it with expression, but as fast as he could before he should be stopped.

      “Shut up, Roger.” said John.

      “Don’t spoil it,” said Titty, and she did not mean Roger’s music.

      “Oh well,” said Roger, ending with a long-drawn note. “I’ll never learn if you don’t let me practise sometimes.”

      “All right,” said Titty. “But not now.”

      “There’s a lot of dew,” said Susan. “The cabin top’s quite wet. What are you sitting on, Roger?”

      “The usual place,” said Roger, feeling with a hand. “It is a bit damp. ”

      “We’ll get up early tomorrow,” said Jim, “and go down to the harbour mouth with the last of the ebb and have a look at the sea.”

      “Come on to bed, you two,” said Susan.

      For a little while longer, Jim and John stayed on deck, Jim smoking his pipe in the cockpit, standing on a seat so that he could lean comfortably on the boom. Down below in the cabin they heard the small noises of people moving about, and one squeak on the penny whistle, which came to a sudden end. Presently Susan’s voice called up, “We’re all in bed. But I didn’t know how to fold Captain Jim’s rugs. He’s going to be awfully uncomfortable.”

      “Coming,” said Jim. “‘I’ll deal with them.” He shook out his pipe, and John heard the ashes hiss as they met the water.

      For a few minutes, John stood in the cockpit alone. Almost the Goblin might have been his own ship, and he at peace after a long voyage, taking a last look round before turning in.

      “John,” came the skipper’s voice from the cabin, and John jerked back to real life. “Your watch below. Come on down. I’ll be asleep the moment I put my head on the pillow, and it won’t be much fun to be waked by you trampling about on the top of me while you’re getting into your bunk.”

      John went down. Roger had been tucked up on the port bunk, but in the light of the cabin lamp John could see a bright and wakeful eye. Jim was sitting on the starboard bunk, where John’s blankets were waiting for him. Looking through into the fore-cabin, John could see a lump under the blankets in each bunk. . . Titty and Susan ready for sleep.

      “Sorry,” he said, “I won’t be a minute,” and while the skipper went up on deck to make sure that all was well with the riding light, he tore off his clothes, got into his pyjamas, stuffed the clothes into a heap under his pillow, and wriggled into bed.

      The skipper came down and took his shoes off.

      “Aren’t you going to undress?” said Roger.

      “No,” said Jim.

      “Gosh!” said Roger.

      “Somebody’s got to be on hand,” said Jim. “I’m anchor watch really. But I’m going to sleep just the same. Where’s the big torch?” He found it, blew out the cabin lamp, lay down, and rolled the blankets about him on the cabin floor.

      They slept. The night was so calm that it was hard to believe that the Goblin was afloat. It was an hour later before they were reminded that they were sleeping in a ship and that she was very near the open sea.

      A drumming noise broke the stillness. Suddenly the Goblin seemed to be picked up, flung aside, and picked up again. Everybody was awake in a moment.

      “What’s happened?” said Roger.

      The white light of the big torch shone upwards from the cabin floor.

      “Steamer going out from Parkeston,” СКАЧАТЬ