Great Northern?. Arthur Ransome
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probably seen lots of them,” said Dick to himself
“Seen what?” said Peggy.
“Dick’s thinking about birds,” said Dorothea.
“Divers,” said Dick.
“An hour’s time and that boat’ll be in port,” said Captain Flint, glancing into the companion at the clock that was screwed to a beam so as to be easily seen from on deck. “That is, if she’s going back to …” (For a very good reason the name of the harbour where they had first seen the Pterodactyl will not be mentioned in this book.)
“If we’re going in there to get petrol before starting across you’ll be able to see her again,” said Dorothea to her brother.
“Of course she may be going somewhere else,” said Dick.
“Let’s start our engine,” said Roger, who had come aft and had very much disliked seeing the Pterodactyl moving so much faster than the Sea Bear.
“Shiver my timbers,” said Nancy. “What are you doing here? You’re on the look out. Get away forrard and shut up about engines.”
“You’ll be calling for engines yourself pretty soon,” said Roger, and scrambled forward again. “The wind’s getting weaker and weaker.”
Captain Flint looked about him. “Roger’s about right,” he said. “Looks like a change coming. It’s a paltry wind. But there’s no petrol to spare, except just for getting in. With that calm yesterday we ran the tanks pretty nearly dry. Never mind. We haven’t got far to go. We ought to be getting a sight of that hill any time now.”
Roger was back on the foredeck. Susan was once more in the fo’c’sle watching a kettle that had begun to steam. Dick was trying not to lose the vanishing speck of the bird-man’s boat. Nancy was glancing now at the compass, now at the sails, keeping them full but not too full, intent on getting the very best out of the old cutter. All the others, Captain Hint, Peggy, Titty, Dorothea and John, were looking at the blue hills ahead of them.
“Square Top,” Roger suddenly shouted, pointing along the bowsprit.
“I can’t see it,” said Titty.
“Where?” asked Dorothea.
“Might be it,” said John. “Just coming up now.”
The skyline ahead of them was changing. Hills near the coasts were lifting to hide the bigger hills beyond them. John gave the little chart to Peggy and went up the port shrouds to the cross-trees to get a view from higher up.
“Square Top all right,” he shouted.
Captain Flint took the chart from Peggy.
“Fine on the starboard bow,” called John, and came quickly down to have another look at the chart.
“Looks like it,” Captain Flint was saying. “That little sketch must have been made from just about where we are now. How’s she heading, Nancy?”
“West and a half north,” said Nancy.
“And we’re coming in on the right bearing. Couldn’t have struck it luckier.”
“Good for the Sea Bear,” said Titty.
“Carry on just as we’re going,” said Captain Flint, “and this tack will bring us close off the entrance.”
A hand, Susan’s, showed in the companion way and took hold of the rose knot worked in the end of the bit of rope that dangled from the clapper of a small ship’s bell.
“Ting … ting …”
“Two bells! Five o’clock. Tea!” called Nancy, almost as if she wanted to hurry the others off the deck.
“We’ll get it over,” said Captain Flint. “We’ll be in in no time if only the wind lasts out.”
Roger, at the first “ting” of the bell, had opened the fore-hatch and was already disappearing below. Susan’s hand came up again through the companion, this time carrying a mug for the steersman. Peggy took the mug and put it on the leeward side in a corner of the cockpit where it could not slide about. Susan passed up a huge rock bun. Peggy handed it on.
“Shall I have mine on deck too?” she asked.
“No need,” said Nancy.
Titty and Dorothea went down and Peggy after them.
“Go on, John,” said Nancy. “You’ll get a better view when we’re a bit nearer … Get along down, Dick. Your Pppppppterodactyl’s out of sight.”
Dick took a last look towards that long lump sticking out from the coast-line away to the south. It looked almost like an island, but he knew it was really a cape, the Head, that hid the harbour where they had first seen the bird-man’s boat. He could not see the motor yacht any longer. He followed John down the companion.
Nancy, at the tiller, was alone on deck. The clink of mugs and plates sounded from below. She took a gulp of tea and then a mighty bite of the rock bun. This was better than going into any harbour with buoys and lighthouses and shops and quays. Sailing towards an unknown coast, watching for a tiny break in the coast-line, she had the ship to herself and wished that tea in the cabin would last for ever.
Sitting at the cabin table, Dick saw two tea-leaves floating in his mug. He dipped them out.
“Strangers,” said Titty.
“Perhaps your Divers,” said Dorothea. “Perhaps you’re going to see them after all.”
Dick, as a scientist, did not believe in tea-leaf prophecies. “There’s not much hope left,” he said.
“You never know,” said Dorothea.
Nobody wants to stay below when the ship has made a good landfall and is coming in towards an unknown anchorage chosen by the crew and not by the skipper. Nancy did not have the ship to herself 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