Great Northern?. Arthur Ransome

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СКАЧАТЬ for very long. Nobody dawdled over tea and presently they were all on deck once more, watching the coast coming nearer and nearer, watching the square-topped hill, glancing at the compass, comparing the cliff, now clear to see, with the little drawing of it on Mac’s chart, and eager for the first glimpse into the little cove where the Sea Bear had once been scrubbed and was going to be scrubbed again.

      “Got it!” called John who had taken his telescope up to the cross-trees. “Just to the left of the cliff … Low ground to the south of it. Plumb on the bowsprit end.”

      Presently they were all able to see it from the deck, the narrow inlet close under the cliff, the ridge above the cliff stretching up to the hills, and, north of the ridge, some cottages and a grey house.

      “Conspicuous house,” said Peggy, looking at the chart.

      “Anyhow,” said Titty, “it doesn’t show any houses where we’re going.”

      “Those houses don’t matter,” said Dorothea. “They’re in a different valley, over the top of that range. They won’t even be in sight.”

      “I can’t see them very well even now,” said Roger.

      There is no certainty at sea. At the very last minute, with the cove opening before them, things were changing fast. Away to the south the Head was showing less and less clearly. The wind was slackening. The Sea Bear was moving slower and slower. The sunlight had weakened. Something odd was happening to the coast. The tops of the hills inland showed sharp and still clear but it was as if a white veil hung over their lower slopes.

      “I told you we ought to start the engine,” said Roger.

      Captain Flint took a worried look round.

      “We may have to change our plans,” he said suddenly. He went down the companion ladder, and, looking down, they could see him busy with parallel rulers on the Admiralty chart.

      “Oh look here,” said Nancy, “he can’t be thinking of giving up now.”

      “Why, we’re nearly there,” said Titty.

      Suddenly the sails flapped. Nancy had to change course to fill them again. The air was suddenly cooler. It was as if somebody had turned down the light of the sun.

      “I can’t see the Head,” called John.

      There was a yell from below. “Hey, Nancy! What are you changing course for?” Captain Flint had glanced up from the chart table at the tell-tale compass under the cabin roof.

      “Wind’s changed,” said Nancy. “Mist or fog coming. And we can’t see the Head. “

      Captain Flint came storming up the companion ladder. He took one glance at the cliff ahead and jumped for the starboard jib-sheets.

      “Ready about!” he called. “Helm down!”

      The Sea Bear swung very slowly round. A gentle breath was coming from the north-west.

      “Fair wind for the Head,” said Captain Flint. “What about using it and doing our scrub in harbour tomorrow?”

      “And not go into the cove at all?” said Nancy. “But you promised we should.”

      “Well, look at it,” said Captain Flint.

      Already there had been another change. The square-topped hill was standing in a mist that hid its lower slopes. It was like an island in a white sea. The white sea was rolling towards them. It had covered the low-lying ground and was eddying round the foot of the cliff.

      “Fair wind for the Head,” said Captain Flint again. “And Dick’ll be able to have another look at his boat … Eh, Dick?”

      “But it’s the very last chance of seeing Divers,” said Dick.

      “Look here,” said Nancy. “This wind’ll be dead against us once we’re round the Head and we’ll be beating all the way up to the harbour with rocks on both sides of us …”

      “That’s true enough,” said Captain Flint. He looked south towards the invisible Head and then up at the cliff. Mist was already pouring over the top of it.

      “We’re nearly in already,” said Nancy.

      “It’s pretty late,” said Susan.

      Captain Flint stooped and glanced at the clock. “Slack tide,” he said. “I wouldn’t try it otherwise. But the fog’ll be on us in a minute.” Once more he pulled out his pocket compass and took a bearing of the square-topped hill, now no more than a grey ghost above the mist. “All right, Nancy,” he said. “You win. Lower all sail! We’ll start the engine, Roger. And I hope to goodness the petrol lasts long enough to take us in.”

      “Oh, good!” said Titty.

      “Aye, aye, Sir,” said Roger, and, as he followed the skipper below, “I told you we’d be wanting it.”

      There was a whirr from below as the engine started and a steady throbbing as it was warming up. Captain Flint was on deck again in a moment. The staysail was already down. Peggy and Susan, working together, were bringing in the jib. Captain Flint gave John a hand with the topsail and took the weight of the boom on the topping lift. “You and Susan take the peak halyard,” he said. “I’ve got the throat. Lower away.” This was all old drill to the crew of the Sea Bear and in a very few minutes all sails had been lowered and the old cutter was wallowing uncertainly in the swell.

      “Nancy’s the best hand with the lead. John takes the tiller. Slow ahead, Roger!”

      “Aye, aye, Sir.”

      The Sea Bear began to move again as the engine changed its tune.

      “West and a half north, John, and as steady as you can.”

      “West and a half north it is.”

      “But what are we going to do?” said Dorothea.

      “We’re going in,” said Nancy, taking the lead and its line out of a locker in the cockpit.

      “If we can,” said Captain Flint.

      The coast had disappeared altogether. The square-topped hill had been swallowed up. The chug … chug … chug of the engine was driving the Sea Bear slowly forward into a wall of white wool.

      The boy high above the cliff had seen the mist coming. It had filled the valley and hidden the deer he had been watching. He felt a cold breath on his forehead. The wind was changing. He had written up his diary for the day and eaten all he meant to eat of the cake he had brought with him. A faint sound of bagpipes was calling him home. He put his diary and what was left of his cake in the biscuit box he used as a safe, pushed it well out of sight at the back of his private hiding-place and, as the mist reached him, set out carefully to pick his way among the rocks and heather. No one on land saw the Sea Bear lower her sails. No one heard the quiet throb of her engine as she crept slowly on towards the cliff.

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