“Wonder what poor old Bill is doing,” said Jack to Philip, as the two boys lay listening to the wind howling round them. “I bet he’s worried stiff about us.”
“It’s a shame, just as we were all set for a glorious holiday,” said Philip. “And now the weather’s broken too! What on earth shall we do with ourselves if it goes on like for this for days? It will be frightful.”
“Oh, it may clear up again when the storm is over,” said Jack. “Golly, hark at the waves on the beaches round the island — and how they must be dashing against those steep cliffs! I bet the gannets and guillemots aren’t getting much sleep tonight!”
“The wind’s pretty deafening too,” said Philip. “Blow it! I feel so tired, and yet I can’t possibly sleep with all this din going on. And gosh — what’s that?”
“Thunder,” said Jack, sitting up. “The storm is on us now all right. Let’s go into the girls’ tent, Philip. Lucy-Ann will be scared, if she’s awake. A storm over this exposed little island won’t be very funny.”
They crept into the other tent. The girls were wide awake and very glad to have them beside them. Dinah squeezed up into Lucy-Ann’s rugs, and the boys got into Dinah’s warm place. Jack flashed on his torch.
He saw that Lucy-Ann was very near tears. “There’s nothing to be frightened of, old thing,” he said gently. “It’s only a storm, and you’re never frightened of those, Lucy-Ann, you know you aren’t.”
“I know,” gulped Lucy-Ann. “It’s only that — well, the storm seems so wild and — and spiteful, somehow. It tears at our tent, and bellows at us. It seems alive.”
Jack laughed. The thunder came again and crashed more loudly than the waves on the shore. Kiki crept close to Jack.
“Pop, pop, pop!” she said, and put her head under her wing.
“Thunder doesn’t pop, Kiki,” said Jack, trying to joke. But nobody smiled. The wind blew more wildly than ever and the children wished they had more rugs. It was so very very draughty!
Then the lightning flashed. It made them all jump, for it was so vivid. For an instant the steep cliffs and the raging sea showed vividly. Then the picture was gone.
Crash! The thunder came again, this time sounding overhead. Then the lightning split the sky open again and once more the children saw the cliffs and the sea. They didn’t seem quite real, somehow.
“Sort of unearthly,” said Philip. “Gosh, hark at the rain! I’m getting spattered all over with it, though goodness knows how it’s getting in here.”
“The wind’s getting worse,” said Lucy-Ann fearfully. “Our tents will blow away. They will, they will!”
“No, they won’t,” said Jack stoutly, taking Lucy-Ann’s cold hand in his. “They can’t. They . . .”
But at that very moment there came a rending sound, a great flap-flap-flap, something hit Jack across the face — and their tent was gone.
The four children were struck dumb for a moment. The wind howled round them, the rain soaked them. They had nothing over them to protect them — their tent had vanished. Vanished with the wild wind in the darkness of the night.
Lucy-Ann screamed and clutched Jack. He put his torch on quickly.
“Gosh — it’s gone! The gale has taken it away. Come into our tent, quickly!”
But before the children could even get up from their rugs, the gale had taken the other tent too. It rushed by Philip, as he stood trying to help the girls up, and when he turned his torch to where his tent should be, there was nothing.
“Ours has gone too,” he cried, trying to out-shout the wind. “Whatever are we to do?”
“We’d better get down to the boat — if we possibly can,” yelled Jack. “Or do you think we shall be blown over? Had we better roll ourselves up in the ground-sheets and rugs and wait till the storm has blown itself out?”
“No. We’ll be soaked. Better try for the boat,” said Philip. He dragged the girls up. Each of the children wrapped a rug round their shoulders to try and ward off the rain and the cold.
“Take hands and keep together!” yelled Philip. “I’ll go first.”
They took hands. Philip set off, staggering in the gale that was blowing in his face. Through the puffin colony he went, trying to keep on his feet.
Suddenly Dinah, who had hold of Philip’s hand, felt him drag it away. Then she heard a cry. She called in fright.
“Philip! Philip! What’s happened?”
There was no answer. Jack and Lucy-Ann came close to Dinah. “What’s up? Where’s Philip?”
Jack’s torch shone out in front of them. There was no Philip there. He had vanished completely. The children, their hearts beating painfully, stayed absolutely still in dismay and astonishment. Surely the gale hadn’t blown him away!
“PHILIP! PHILIP!” yelled Jack. But only the wind answered him. Then all three yelled at the top of their voices.
Jack thought he heard a faint answering cry. But where? It sounded at his feet! He swung his torch downwards, and to his immense surprise and fright he saw Philip’s head — but only his head, on a level with the ground.
Dinah shrieked in fright. Jack knelt down, too dumbfounded to say a word. Just Philip’s head — just Philip’s . . .
Then he saw in a flash what had happened. Philip had trodden on soil so undermined by the puffins that it had given way — and he had fallen right through to a hole below. Jack could have cried with relief.
“Are you all right, Philip?” he yelled.
“Yes. Give me your torch. I’ve dropped mine. I’ve fallen through into a whopping big hole. There might be room for us all to shelter here for a bit,” shouted back Philip, the words being whipped away by the wind almost before Jack could hear them.
Jack gave Philip his torch. The boy’s head disappeared. Then it came back again, looking very queer sticking up between some heather and a sea-pink cushion.
“Yes. It’s an enormous hole. Can you all get down? We’d keep safe and dry here till the storm is over. Come on. It’s a bit smelly, but otherwise not bad.”
Dinah slid through the opening of the hole and found herself beside Philip. Then came Lucy-Ann and then Jack. Jack had found Philip’s torch and the two torches were now shone around the hole.
“I suppose the rabbits and the puffins together managed to burrow so much that they have made an enormous hole,” said Jack. “Look, there’s a puffin burrow leading out of it over there — and one of the puffins staring in astonishment at us! Hallo, old son. Sorry to burst in on you like this.”
The relief of finding that Philip was safe, and of being out of the wild noise of the storm, made Jack feel quite light-hearted. Lucy-Ann’s sobs stopped, and they all looked round them with interest.
“I should think this was a natural cavity of some sort,” said Philip, “with a layer of good soil, held together by roots and things, making a surface above — but all that burrowing by the puffins made it give way when I trod on it — and down I fell. Well, it’s just what we want, for the moment.”
Above them, deadened by tangled heather and sea-pinks, the storm raged on. No rain came into the cavity. The thunder sounded very far away. The lightning could not be seen.
“I don’t see why we shouldn’t sleep here for the night,” said Jack, spreading out the rug he had taken from his shoulders. “The soil is dry and soft — and the air must be good enough, because that puffin is still there, gazing at us. I say — I hope Huffin and Puffin are all right.”
They all spread out their rugs and lay down, cuddled up together. “Congratulations on finding us such a fine home for tonight, Philip,” said Jack sleepily. “Very clever of you indeed! Good night, everybody!”
Chapter 16
NEXT DAY
THEY all slept soundly in their queer shelter. They did not awake until late in the morning, because for one thing it was dark in the hole, and for another they had been tired out.
Jack awoke first, feeling Kiki stirring against his neck. He could not think where he was. A little daylight filtered through the entrance of the hole, but not much. It was very warm.
“Arrrrrrr!” said a guttural voice, and made Jack jump. “Arrrrrrr!”
It was the puffin which had come down its burrow to see them the night before. Jack switched on his torch and grinned at it.
“Good morning — if it is morning. Sorry to have disturbed you! I’ll get Huffin and Puffin to explain to you, when we see them again.”