‘You’ll end up by being a poet if you don’t look out,’ said Philip, from the wheel.
‘Well, if a poet feels like I feel just exactly at this moment, I wouldn’t mind being one for the rest of my life, even if it meant having to write poetry,’ said Lucy-Ann.
‘Three blind mice, see how they run,’ remarked Kiki, and for one moment everyone thought that Kiki was joining in the talk about poetry, and giving what she thought was an example. But she was merely referring to the three tame rats that had suddenly appeared on Philip’s shoulders. They stood there daintily, their pink noses raised, sniffing the salt sea air.
‘Oh, blow you, Philip!’ said Dinah, from her seat near Jack. ‘I was hoping against hope you hadn’t brought those detestable little creatures. I only hope the gulls eat them.’
But even Dinah couldn’t feel annoyed for long as they glided over the green waves, leaving a white wake behind them, like a long feathery tail. When Bill appeared from the little cabin, they all hailed him in delight.
‘Bill! Dear old Bill, you look like yourself again!’
‘Oh, Bill – never wear a beard again. It does spoil your beauty.’
‘Hurrah! We’ve lost Dr Walker for ever. Silly fellow, I never liked him.’
‘Bill, you look nice again. I can see your mouth when you smile.’
‘Pay the bill, pay the bill!’
‘Shut up, Kiki, or the gulls will get you!’
‘Ah, this is something like,’ said Bill happily, taking the wheel from Philip. ‘Golly, if we get this weather we’ll all be quite sun-burnt in a day or two. Better keep your shirts on, boys, or you’ll get blistered.’
Everyone had discarded coats and wraps at once. The breeze was cool, but the sun was really hot. The sea, in the distance, was unbelievably blue, the colour of cornflowers, Lucy-Ann thought.
‘Now, my friends,’ said Bill, his white shirt billowing in the breeze, ‘this is a holiday, not a hair-raising adventure. You’ve had enough of adventures. We’ve had three together, and this time I want a holiday.’
‘Right,’ said Jack. ‘A holiday it shall be. Adventures keep out!’
‘I don’t want any adventures either,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘I’ve had plenty. This is adventure enough for me. I like this kind best – not the kind where we have to hide, and creep through secret tunnels and live in caves. I just want a sunny, lazy, windy time with the people I like best. It would be nice if Aunt Allie was here too – but perhaps she wouldn’t enjoy it very much.’
‘I hope she’s feeling better,’ said Dinah. ‘I say, where’s the land? I can’t see a bit – not even an island!’
‘You’ll see plenty tomorrow,’ said Bill. ‘You can choose one for your own.’
That was a wonderful afternoon and evening. They had a fine tea on board, prepared by the two girls, who found new bread, strawberry jam and a big chocolate cake in the cabin larder.
‘Make the most of this,’ said Bill. ‘You won’t get new bread often now. I doubt if we shall find any farmhouses at all, among the lonely islands we shall visit. But I’ve brought tins and tins of biscuits of all kinds. And as for this chocolate cake, eat it up and enjoy it – I don’t think you’ll get any more for two weeks.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Dinah, munching away. ‘When I’m hungry I simply don’t mind what I eat – and I can see I’m always going to be hungry on this holiday.’
The sun went down in a great golden blaze, and the tiny curly clouds turned a brilliant pink. Still the motor-boat went on and on and on, over a sea that blazed pink and gold too.
‘The sun has drowned itself in the sea,’ said Lucy-Ann at last, as it disappeared. ‘I watched the very very last little bit go down into the water.’
‘Where are we going to sleep tonight?’ asked Jack. ‘Not that I mind – but it would be fun to know.’
‘There are two tents somewhere in the bow,’ said Bill. ‘I thought, when we came to an island we liked the look of, we’d land, put up the tents and sleep there for the night. What do you say?’
‘Oh yes,’ said everyone. ‘Let’s look for an island – a really nice wild one!’
But at the moment there was no land in sight, not even a small rocky island. Bill gave the wheel to Jack, and looked at the chart. He pointed with his finger. ‘We’ve been running in this direction. We should come on these two islands presently. One has a few people on it, and, I believe, a tiny jetty. We’d better go there tonight, and then set off to the unknown tomorrow. It’s getting too late to go hunting for islands further away. It would be dark before we got there.’
‘It’s still very light,’ said Philip, looking at his watch. ‘At home it would be getting dark.’
‘The further north you go, the longer the evening light is,’ said Bill. ‘Don’t ask me why at the moment. I don’t feel capable of a lecture just now.’
‘You don’t need to tell us,’ said Philip loftily. ‘We learnt all about it last term. You see, owing to the sun being . . .’
‘Spare me, spare me,’ begged Bill, taking the wheel again. ‘Look, one of your inquisitive little rats is sniffing at Kiki’s tail. There will be murder done in a moment if you don’t remove him.’
But Kiki knew better than to hurt any of Philip’s pets. She contented herself with cracking her beak so loudly in Squeaker’s ear that he ran back to Philip in alarm, scampering up his bare legs and into his shorts in a trice.
Gradually the sea lost its blue, and became greygreen. The breeze felt cold and everyone put on jerseys. Then far away in the distance a dark hump loomed up – land!
‘That’s it, that’s one of the islands we want for tonight,’ said Bill, pleased. ‘I consider I’ve done pretty well to head so straight for it. We’ll soon be there.’
It certainly was not long before they were nosing alongside a simple stone jetty. A fisherman was there, in a long blue jersey. He was astonished to see them.
Bill explained in a few words. ‘Och, so it’s bairds ye’re after,’ said the fisherman. ‘Weel, there’s plenty for you out yon,’ and he nodded towards the sea. ‘Where will you be sleeping the night? My bit cottage won’t tak’ sae mony.’
Lucy-Ann couldn’t understand him, but the others gathered what he meant. ‘Bring the tents,’ ordered Bill. ‘We’ll soon have them up. We’ll ask the fisherman’s wife to give us a meal. It will save our own provisions. Maybe we can get some cream too, and good butter.’
By the time that darkness came at last they had all had a good meal, and were bedded down in the two tents, comfortable on ground-sheets and rugs. The fresh air had made them so sleepy that the girls fell asleep without even saying goodnight.
‘They’re a’ daft,’ said the fisherman to his wife. ‘Wasting a fine boat like yon, looking for bairds. Bairds! When there’s good fish to be got! Well, they’ll soon see bairds in plenty. Och, they’re a’ dafties!’
8
The island of birds
Next day, after a fine breakfast of porridge and cream, and grilled herrings, the tents were struck and the five went aboard their boat. It was called Lucky Star, which the children thought was a very nice name.
Kiki had not been popular with the old fisherman and his wife. They had never seen a parrot before, and they regarded Kiki with suspicion.
‘God save the King,’ said Kiki, having learnt by experience that most people thought this was a fine thing for her to say. But she spoilt it by adding. ‘Pop goes the Queen, pop, pop, pop!’
Now she was aboard with the others, and once again the boat was skimming over the blue water. Once again the sky was blue and the sun was hot. True May weather, that made the sea a clear, translucent blue, and set thousands of little sparkles dancing over the water.
‘I’ve still got that lovely feeling,’ said Lucy-Ann happily, as she dangled her hand over the side of the boat and felt the cool, silky water catch hold of her fingers and trail them back. ‘Now to find some bird-islands. We really are going to find some today, aren’t we,
Bill?’
‘We certainly are,’ said Bill, and gave the boat a little extra speed. Spray came up and fell lightly over everyone.
‘Ooooh, lovely!’ said Dinah. ‘I was so hot. That cooled me beautifully. Let her out again, Bill! I could do with some more of that.’
For five hours they sped over the water, and then Jack gave a shout. ‘The islands! Look, you can see little blobs here and there on the horizon! They must be the islands!’
And now the children began to see a great many different birds on the water and in the air. Jack called out their names exitedly. ‘There’s a shearwater! Jolly good name for it. And look Philip, that’s a razor-bill! – and gosh, is that a Little Auk?’
The boys, well versed in the appearance of the wild sea-birds, almost fell overboard in their excitement. Many of the birds seemed to have no fear of the noisy boat at all, but went bobbing on their way, hardly bothering to swerve when it neared them.
‘There’s a shag diving,’ shouted Jack. ‘Look! You can see it swimming under water – it’s caught a fish. Here it comes. It’s clumsy getting out of the water to fly. Gosh, if only I’d got my camera ready!’
Kiki watched the many birds out of baleful eyes. She did not like the interest that Jack suddenly appeared to take in these other birds. When a great gull appeared, flying leisurely right over the boat, Kiki shot up underneath it, gave a fearful screech, and turned a somersault in the air. The gull, startled, rose vertically on its strong wings and let out an alarmed cry.
‘EEE-oo-ee-ooooo!’
Kiki imitated it perfectly, and the gull, thinking that Kiki must be some strange kind of relation, circled round. Then it made a pounce at the parrot. But Kiki flipped round, and then dropped to Jack’s shoulder.
‘Eee-oo!’ she called defiantly, and the gull, after a doubtful glance, went on its way, wondering, no doubt, what kind of a gull this was that behaved in such a peculiar manner.
‘You’re an idiot, Kiki,’ said Jack. ‘One of these days a gull will eat you for his dinner.’
‘Poor old Kiki,’ said the parrot, and gave a realistic groan. Bill laughed. ‘I can’t imagine what Kiki will do when we see the puffins, waddling about among the heather and sea-pinks,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid she will give them an awful time.’
As they came nearer to the first island, more and more birds were to be seen on and above the water. They glided gracefully on the wind, they dived down for fish, they bobbed along like toy ducks. There was a chorus of different cries, some shrill, some guttural, some mournful and forlorn. They gave the children a wild, exultant kind of feeling.
As they came near to the island the children fell silent. A tall cliff towered in front of them, and it was covered from top to bottom with birds! The children stared in delight.
Birds, birds, birds! On every ledge they stood or squatted, thousands of white gannets, myriads of the browner guillemots, and a mixture of other sea-birds that the boys could hardly make out, though they glued their field-glasses to their eyes for minutes on end.
‘What a coming and going!’ said Bill, staring with fascinated eyes, too. And it certainly was. Besides the birds that stood on the ledges, there were always others arriving and others leaving. That way and this went the busy birds, with a chorus of excited cries.
‘They’re not very careful with their eggs,’ said Lucy-Ann, in distress, when she looked through Jack’s glasses in her turn. The careless birds took off and knocked their precious eggs over the ledge and down the cliff, to be smashed on the rocks below.
‘They can lay plenty more,’ said Philip. ‘Come on, Lucy-Ann – give me back my glasses! Golly, what a wonderful sight! I shall write this all up in my notes tonight.’
The motor-boat nosed carefully round the rocky cliffs. Bill stopped looking at the birds and kept a sharp look-out instead for rocks. Once round the steep cliffs the land sloped downwards, and Bill spotted a place that seemed suitable for the boat.
It was a little sheltered sandy cove. He ran the boat in and it grounded softly. He sprang out with the boys, and made it safe, by running the anchor well up the beach and digging it in.
‘Is this going to be our headquarters?’ asked Dinah, looking round.
‘Oh, no,’ said Jack at once. ‘We want to cruise round a bit, don’t we, Bill, and find a puffin island. I’d really like to be in the midst of the bird-islands, and be able to go from one to the other as we pleased. But we could stay here for tonight, couldn’t we?’
That was a wonderful day for the four children, and for Bill too. With thousands of birds screaming round their heads, but apparently not in the least afraid of them, the children made their way to the steep cliffs they had seen from the other side of the island.
Birds were nesting on the ground, and it was difficult to tread sometimes, without disturbing sitting birds or squashing eggs. Some of the birds made vicious jabs at the children’s legs, but nobody was touched. It was just a threatening gesture, nothing more.
Kiki was rather silent. She sat on Jack’s shoulder, her head hunched into her neck. So many birds at once seemed to overwhelm her. But Jack knew that she would soon recover, and startle the surrounding birds by telling them to wipe their feet and shut the door.
They reached the top of the cliffs, and were almost deafened by the cries and calls around them. Birds rose and fell in the air, glided and soared, weaving endless patterns in the blue sky.
‘It’s funny they never bump into one another,’ said Lucy-Ann, astonished. ‘There’s never a single collison. I’ve been watching.’
‘Probably got a traffic policeman,’ said Philip solemnly. ‘For all you know some of them may have licences under their wings.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘All the same, it is clever of them not to collide, when there’s so many thousands. What a row! I can hardly hear myself speak.’
They came to the very edge of the cliff. Bill took Lucy-Ann’s arm. ‘Not too near,’ he said. ‘The cliffs are almost sheer here.’
They were. When the children lay down on their tummies and looked cautiously over, it gave them a queer feeling to see the sea so very very far below, moving slowly in and out, with only a far-off rumble to mark the breaking of the waves. Lucy-Ann found herself clutching the cushions of sea-pink beside her.
‘I somehow feel I’m not safe on the ground,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I feel as if I’ve got to hold on. I feel sort of – well, sort of upside-down!’
Bill held on to her tightly after that speech. He knew that she felt giddy, and he wasn’t going to risk anything with little Lucy-Ann! He liked all the children very much, but Lucy-Ann was his favourite.
The children watched the birds going and coming endlessly to and from the narrow cliff ledges. It was a marvellous sight. Jack looked through his glasses and chuckled at the squabbling and pushing that was going on on some of the narrower shelves.
‘Just like naughty children,’ he said. ‘Telling each other to move up and make room, or I’ll push you off – and off somebody goes, sure enough. But it doesn’t matter, because out go their wings and they have a lovely glide through the air. My word, I wouldn’t mind being a sea-bird – able to stride along on the sea-shore, or bob on the sea, or dive for fish, or glide for miles on the strong breeze. I shouldn’t mind be—’
‘What’s that?’ said Philip suddenly, hearing a noise that wasn’t made by sea-birds. ‘Listen! An aeroplane, surely!’
They all listened, straining their eyes through the sun-washed air. And, far away, they saw a speck, steadily moving through the sky, and heard the r-r-r-r of an engine.
‘A plane! Right off all the routes!’ said Bill. ‘Well – that’s the last thing I expected to see here!’
9
Hurrah for Puffin Island!
Bill seemed so astonished that the children stared at him. Surely it wasn’t so surprising to see an aeroplane, even near these desolate bird-islands?
Bill took Jack’s glasses and looked through them,
but it was too late to make out anything.
‘I wonder if it was a seaplane or an ordinary plane,’ he said, half to himself. ‘How strange.’
‘Why is it strange?’ asked Dinah. ‘Aeroplanes go everywhere now.’
Bill said no more. He handed back the glasses to Jack. ‘I think we’d better have a meal, and then put up our tents,’ he said. ‘What about putting them by that little stream we saw on our way here? About a quarter of a mile from the shore. It wouldn’t be too far to carry everything if we all give a hand.’
The tents were set up. The ground-sheets were put down and the rugs tumbled over them. Then, sitting on a slight slope, looking out to the blue sea, the five of them had a glorious meal. ‘I always think,’ began Lucy-Ann, munching a couple of biscuits with butter and cream cheese between them. ‘I always think . . .’
‘You needn’t go on,’ said Jack. ‘We know what you’re going to say and we quite agree with you.’
‘You don’t know what I’m going to say,’ said Lucy-Ann indignantly.
‘We do,’ said Philip. ‘You say it every holiday when we have a meal out of doors.’
‘You’re going to say, “I always think food tastes much nicer when it’s eaten out of doors,”’ said Dinah. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Well, I was,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘Do I really always say it? Anyway, it’s quite true. I do think . . .’
‘Yes, we know,’ said Jack. ‘You’re an awful repeater, Lucy-Ann. You tell us the same things over and over again. Never mind. We think the same, even if we don’t keep on saying it. Kiki, take your fat beak out of the cream cheese!’
‘Kiki’s awful,’ said Dinah. ‘She really is. She’s pinched three biscuits already. I don’t think you give her enough sunflower seeds, Jack.’
‘Golly, I like that!’ said Jack. ‘She won’t even look at sunflower seeds when there’s a spread like this. Anyway, Philip, your rats can always eat them. I found Squeaker in my pocket a little while ago, nibbling one of them as fast as he could.’