“Enough to stand a siege, sir,” said Henty. “I’m to pilot you out, sir — I’ve got a boat behind.”
Everyone went on board. It was a fine motor-boat, with a little cabin in front. Jack’s eyes gleamed when he saw the stock of food — tins, tins, tins! The little refrigerator was full of stuff too. Good! There would be plenty to eat anyway, and that, in Jack’s opinion, was one of the main things to be planned for, on a holiday. People always got so terribly hungry when they were holidaying.
Henty piloted them out of the harbour, his tiny boat bobbing behind. When they were beyond the harbour Henty saluted and got into his boat.
“Well — good luck, sir,” he said. “The wireless is O.K., sir — we’ll be expecting a message regularly, to know you’re all right. There are extra batteries, and a repair set as well. Good luck, sir. I’ll be here in two weeks’ time to pick up the kids.”
He rowed off, his oars making a soft plash-plash-plash in the water. He soon looked very small indeed, as Bill’s motor-boat sped away.
“Well — we’re off!” said Bill, with great satisfaction. “And my beard can come off too — and my glasses, thank goodness. And my coat. Here, Philip, you know how to steer a motor-boat, don’t you? Take the wheel whilst I make myself presentable again. No-one is likely to see me now. Keep her going north-north-west.”
Proudly Philip took the wheel. The engine of the boat purred smoothly, and they sped fast over the blue water. It was a wonderful day, almost as hot as summer. The May sun shone down out of a sky flecked with tiny curly clouds, and little points of light danced on the waves.
“Gorgeous!” said Jack, sitting down with a grunt of joy near Philip. “Simply absolutely perfectly gorgeous.”
“I’ve got such a lovely feeling,” said Lucy-Ann, looking the picture of happiness. “You know — that feeling you get at the very beginning of a lovely holiday — when all the days spread out before you, sunny and lazy and sort of enchanted.”
“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 burnt black 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 very hot. The sea, in the distance, was unbelievably blue, the colour of cornflowers, Lucy-Ann thought.
“Now, my dears,” 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 farm-houses 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 like 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 grey-green. 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 a 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 get 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.”