‘And so it was called Castaway,’ said Dick. ‘But perhaps it has got good again, because the sea has gone away from it, and you can walk from the mainland to the hill, can’t you?’
‘Yes. There’s one good road you can take,’ said the innkeeper. ‘But you be careful of wandering away from it, if you go walking on it! The marsh will suck you down, in no time if you set foot on it!’
‘It does sound a most exciting place,’ said George. ‘Smuggler’s Top on Castaway Hill! Only one road to it!’
‘Time to get on,’ said the driver, looking at the clock. ‘You’ve got to be there before tea, your uncle said.’
They got into the car again, Timmy clambering over legs and feet to a comfortable place on George’s lap. He was far too big and heavy to lie there but just occasionally he seemed to want to, and George never had the heart to refuse him.
They drove off once more. Anne fell asleep, and the others felt drowsy too. The car purred on and on. It began to rain, and the countryside looked rather dreary.
The driver turned round after a while and spoke to Julian. ‘We’re coming near to Castaway Hill, sir. We’ll soon be leaving the mainland, and taking the road across the marsh.’
Julian woke Anne. They all sat up expectantly. But it was very disappointing after all! The marshes were full of mist! The children could not pierce through it with their eyes, and could only see the flat road they were on, raised a little higher than the surrounding flat marsh.
When the mist shifted a little now and again the children saw a dreary space of flat marsh on either side.
‘Stop a minute, driver,’ said Julian. I’d like to see what the marsh is like.
‘Well, don’t step off the road,’ warned the driver, stopping the car. ‘And don’t you let that dog out, Miss. Once he runs off the road and gets into the marsh he’ll be gone for good.’
‘What do you mean – gone for good?’ said Anne, her eyes wide.
‘He means the marsh will suck down Timmy at once,’ said Julian. ‘Shut him in the car, George.’
So Timmy, much to his disgust, was shut safely in the car. He pawed at the door, and tried to look out of the window. The driver turned and spoke to him. ‘It’s all right. They’ll be back soon old fellow!’
But Timmy whined all the time the others were out of the car. He saw them go to the edge of the road. He saw Julian jump down the couple of feet that raised the road above the marsh.
There was a line of raised stones running in the marsh alongside the road. Julian stood on one of these peering at the flat marsh.
‘It’s mud,’ he said. ‘Loose, squelchy mud! Look, when I touch it with my foot it moves! It would soon suck me down if I trod heavily on it.’
Anne didn’t like it. She called to Julian. ‘Come up on the road again. I’m afraid you’ll fall in.’
Mists were wreathing and swirling over the salty marshes. It was a weird place, cold and damp. None of the children liked it. Timmy began to bark in the car.
‘Tim will scratch the car to bits if we don’t get back,’ said George. So they all went back, rather silent. Julian
wondered how many travellers had been lost in that strange sea-marsh.
‘Oh, there’s many that’s never been heard of again,’ said the driver, when they asked him. ‘They do say there’s one or two winding paths that go to the hill from the mainland, that were used before the road was built. But unless you know every inch of them you’re off them in a trice, and find your feet sinking in the mud.’
‘It’s horrid to think about,’ said Anne. ‘Don’t let’s talk about it any more. Can we see Castaway Hill yet?’
‘Yes. There it is, looming up in the mist,’ said the driver. ‘The top of it is out of the mist, see? Queer place, isn’t it?’
The children looked in silence. Out of the slowly moving mists rose,a tall, steep hill, whose rocky sides were as steep as cliffs. The hill seemed to swim in the mists, and to have no roots in the earth. It was covered with buildings which even at that distance looked old and quaint. Some of them had towers.
‘That must be Smuggler’s Top, right at the summit,’ said Julian, pointing. ‘It’s like an old building of centuries ago – probably is! Look at the tower it has. What a wonderful view you’d get from it.’
The children gazed at the place where they were to stay. It looked exciting and picturesque, certainly – but it also looked rather forbidding.
‘It’s sort of – sort of secret, somehow,’ said Anne, putting into words what the others were thinking. ‘I mean it looks as if it had kept all kinds of queer secrets down the centuries. I guess it could tell plenty of tales!’
The car drove on again, quite slowly, because the mists came down thickly. The road had a line of sparkling round buttons set all along the middle, and when the driver switched on his fog-lamp, they shone brightly and guided
him well. Then as they neared Castaway Hill the road began to slope upwards.
‘We go through a big archway soon,’ said the driver. ‘That used to be where the city gate once was. The whole town is surrounded by wall still, just as it used to be in olden times. It’s wide enough to walk on, and if you start at a certain place, and walk long enough, you’ll come round to the place you started at!’
All the children made up their minds to do this without fail. What a view they would have all round the hill, if they chose a fine day!
The road became steeper, and the driver put the engine into a lower gear. It groaned up the hill. Then it came to an archway, from which old gates were fastened back. It passed through, and the children were in Castaway.
‘It’s almost as if we’ve gone back through the centuries, and come to somewhere that existed ages ago!’ said Julian, peering at the old houses and shops, with their cobbled streets, their diamond-paned windows, and stout old doors.
They went up the winding high street, and came at last to a big gateway, set with wrought-iron gates. The driver hooted and they opened. They swept into a steep drive, and at last stopped before Smuggler’s Top.
They got out, feeling suddenly shy. The big old house seemed to frown down at them. It was built of brick and timber, and its front door was as massive as that of a castle.
Queer gables jutted here and there over the diamond-paned windows. The house’s one tower stood sturdily at the east side of the house, with windows all round. It was not a square tower, but a rounded one, and ended in a point.
‘Smuggler’s Top!’ said Julian. ‘It’s a good name for it somehow. I suppose lots of smuggling went on here in the old days.’
Dick rang the bell. To do this he had to pull down an iron handle, and a jangling at once made itself heard in the house.
There was the sound of running feet, and the door was opened. It opened slowly, for it was heavy.
Beyond it stood two children, one a girl of about Anne’s age, and the other a boy of Dick’s age.
‘Here you are at last!’ cried the boy, his dark eyes dancing. ‘I thought you were never coming!’
‘This is Sooty,’ said Dick to the girls, who had not met him before. They stared at him.
He was certainly very very dark. Black hair, black eyes, black eyebrows, and a brown face. In contrast to him the girl beside him looked pale and delicate. She had golden hair, blue eyes and her eyebrows were so faint they could hardly be seen.
‘This is Marybelle, my sister,’ said Sooty. ‘I always think we look like Beauty and the Beast!’
Sooty was nice. Everyone liked him at once. George found herself twinkling at him in a way quite strange to her, for usually she was shy of strangers, and would not make friends for some time. But who could help liking Sooty with his dancing black eyes and his really wicked grin?
‘Come in,’ said Sooty. ‘Driver, you can take the car round to the next door, and Block will take in the luggage for you and give you tea.’
Suddenly Sooty’s face lost its smile and grew very solemn. He had seen Timmy!
‘I say! I say – that’s not your dog, is it?’ he said.
‘He’s mine,’ said George, and she laid a protecting-hand