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!”
Chapter 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. “Queer.”
“Why is it queer?” 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 holidays 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.”
“I hope it won’t make him ill,” said Philip in alarm. “I say, look! — here comes a gull — tame as anything. It wants a biscuit too, I should think.”
It did. It had watched Kiki pecking at a biscuit and enjoying it, and it didn’t see why it shouldn’t have a share. Kiki saw the gull out of the corner of her eye and sidled away. The gull made a pounce, got the biscuit and rose into the air, making a loud laughing noise. “Ee-oo, ee-oo, ee-oo!”
Kiki flew up angrily, calling out all kinds of things to the gull. They were meant to be very rude, but unfortunately the gull didn’t understand. Kiki could not catch the strong-winged bird and flew disconsolately back to the children.
“You can’t complain, Kiki,” said Jack. “You shouldn’t have pinched that biscuit out of the tin — and the gull shouldn’t have pinched it from you. It’s six of one and half a dozen of the other.”
“What a pity, what a pity!” said Kiki, and sidled near the biscuit tin again.
“That bird is a real clown,” said Bill, shaking the crumbs off his jersey. “Now, who’s coming back to the boat with me to hear the news on the wireless? Also I must send out a few messages — especially one for your mother, Philip, who will be sure to want to know if we’ve got here safely.”
They all wanted to stretch their legs, so they walked back over the soft cushions of the sea-pinks, whose bold little pink heads nodded everywhere in the wind.
They watched Bill as he put up his little wireless mast and fiddled about with the set. It was a transmitter as well as a receiver.
“I suppose if you send messages home every night, we shan’t need to post letters off to Aunt Allie,” said Lucy-Ann.
Everyone roared. “And where would you post a letter, pray?” asked Jack. “I haven’t seen a pillar-box anywhere about. Lucy-Ann, you’re an idiot.”
“Yes, I am!” said Lucy-Ann, going red. “Of course we can’t post anything here! How useful that you can send messages, Bill! Then if any of us wanted help, you could get it.”
“Quite so,” said Bill. “But I hope if you wanted help I could whizz you off in the motor-boat. Anyway I wouldn’t have consented to bring you all away into the wilds like this, if I hadn’t a transmitter with me, so that I could send messages every night. I send them to headquarters, and they telephone them to your aunt. So she’ll follow our travels and adventures each night.”
They watched for a while, and then listened to part of a programme. Then Lucy-Ann yawned and Kiki imitated her. “Blow! You make me feel sleepy,” said Dinah, rubbing her eyes. “Look, it’s getting dark!”
So back they went to their tents, and were soon cuddled into their rugs. The birds called incessantly from the cliffs and the sea. “I believe they keep awake all night,” thought Dinah. But they didn’t. They slept too when the darkness came at last.
The next day was very warm and close. “Looks to me like a storm blowing up sooner or later,” said Bill, screwing up his eyes and looking into the bright sky. “I almost think we’d better try and find our headquarters today, so that we have some shelter if a storm does blow up. This sort of holiday needs fine weather if it’s going to be successful — a storm wouldn’t be at all pleasant, with only tents to sleep in — we’d be blown to bits.”
“I just want to take a few photographs of these cliffs and the birds on them,” said Jack. “I’ll do that whilst you’re getting down the tents, if you don’t mind my not helping you.”
So off he went with Kiki towards the steep cliffs. Bill called after him that he was not to try any climbing down the cliffs, and he shouted back that he wouldn’t.
Soon everything was packed away again on the motor-boat, which was just being floated by the rising tide, and they waited patiently for Jack. He soon appeared, his glasses and his camera slung round his neck, and his face beaming.
“Got some beauties,” he said. “Kiki was awfully useful to me. I got her to parade up and down, so that all the birds stayed still in amazement, watching her — and then, click! I got them beautifully. I ought to have some fine pictures.”
“Good!” said Bill, smiling at the enthusiastic boy. “You’ll have to have a book of bird photographs published. ‘Masterpieces, by Jack Trent, price thirty shillings,’ ”
“I’d like that,” said Jack, his face shining. “Not the thirty shillings I mean — but having a book about birds with my name on it.”
“Come on in,” said Philip impatiently, for Jack was still outside the boat. “We want to be off. It’s so warm I’m longing to get out to sea again, and feel the breeze on my face as the boat swings along.”
They soon felt it and were glad of it. It certainly was very hot for May. The boat went swiftly through the water, bobbing a little as it rode over the waves. Lucy-Ann let her fingers run through the water again — lovely and cool!
“What I should like is a bathe,” said Philip, little drops of perspiration appearing round his nose. “Can we bathe from the boat, Bill?”