Famous Five 19 Five Go to Demons Rocks (6 page)

‘How horrible - and did it get wrecked?’ asked Dick.

‘Yes. Smashed to bits,’ said the driver. ‘Ab-sol-utely - smashed - to bits! And then they waited for the tide to wash up the wreckage. You ought to look up my old great-grandad, and get him to tell you his tales. He might even show you the Wreckers’ Cave...’

‘Oh - we heard about that,’ said George. ‘Is it really true - can we see it? And is there someone in there still?’

‘No - no, all the old wreckers are gone long ago,’ said the driver. ‘As soon as the new light-house was built, the wreckers’ day was done. It’s so powerful, you see. Its beams can be seen even in the fiercest storm. The beam from the light-house you’re going to wasn’t very good - but it saved a good many ships, all the same!’

‘What’s your grandad’s name?’ asked George, making up her mind to look him up as soon as she could. ‘Where does he live?’

‘Ask for Jeremiah Boogie,’ said the driver, carefully skirting a herd of cows. ‘You’ll find him sitting some where on the quay, smoking a long pipe, and scowling at anyone that comes nigh him. But he likes children, so don’t you be afraid of his scowl. He’ll tell you a few tales, will my old great-grandad! Well, bless us all, if there isn’t another herd of cows coming round the corner.’

‘Hoot at them,’ said Tinker.

‘Ever heard the rhyme about the cow that jumped over the moon, boy?’ said the driver.

‘Well, someone hooted when it came by, see? And that’s what it did - jumped over the moon! No good driver hoots at cows. It scares them silly, and they jump like hares. Look

- see that cliff round the curve of the coast there? Well, that’s the first bit of Demon’s Rocks. We’ll soon be there now.’

‘Why is it called that?’ asked George.

‘Well, the rocks there are so wicked that it was reckoned they could only have been put there by some kind of savage demon,’ said the driver. ‘Some are just below the water so that they catch the keel of a boat and rip it. Others stick up sharp as sharks’ teeth - and there’s a great ledge of rocks where a boat can be pounded to bits by the waves. Ah, they’re Demon’s Rocks all right!’

‘When shall we see the light-house?’ asked Tinker. ‘We ought to see it soon.’

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‘Wait till another bit of the coast comes in sight as soon as we get to the top of this hill,’

said the driver. ‘And just tell that monkey of yours to take his paw out of my coat-pocket.

I’ve no more tomatoes there!’

‘Behave yourself, Mischief,’ said Tinker, so sternly that the little creature hid its face in its paws and whimpered.

‘Little humbug!’ said George. ‘There’s not a tear in his eye! Oh look - is that the lighthouse?’

‘Yes. That’s it,’ said the driver. ‘You get a good view of it now, from this hill. Fine one isn’t it, for an old one? Ah, they could build well in those days. That one’s made of stone.

It’s wave-swept so it has to be fairly tall, or the shining of the lamp would have been hidden by the spray falling on the windows.’

‘Where did the light-house keeper live?’ asked Dick.

‘Oh, there’s a cosy enough room just under the lamp room,’ said the driver. ‘My grandad took me up there once. I never saw such a view of a stormy sea in my life!’

‘My father lived there all one summer,’ boasted Tinker. ‘I was with him most of the time.

It was grand.’

‘Why did your father want to live in a light-house?’ asked the driver, curiously. ‘Was he hiding, or something?’

‘Of course not. He’s a scientist, and he said he wanted peace and quiet, with no telephones ringing, and no one coming to see him,’ said Tinker.

‘And do you mean to say he had peace and quiet with you there?’ said the driver teasingly. ‘Well, well!’

‘It’s not so quiet there really,’ said Tinker. ‘The waves make such a noise, and so does the wind. But my father didn’t really notice those. He only notices things like bells ringing, or people talking, or somebody knocking at the door. Things like that drive him mad. He loved the light-house.’

‘Well - I hope you enjoy yourselves there,’ said the driver. ‘It’s not my cup of tea -

hearing nothing but waves and gulls crying. Better you than me!’

They descended the other side of the hill and the light-house was no longer to be seen.

‘Soon be there now,’ said Tinker. ‘Mischief, will you like to be at the light-house again?

My word, how quickly you could go up the spiral staircase and down - do you remember?’

The car swept down almost to the edge of the sea. The light-house was now plainly to be seen, a good way out from the shore. A small boat bobbed at a stone jetty, and Tinker pointed it out with a scream of joy. ‘That’s the boat we had - the one that took us to and from the light-house when the tide was in! It’s called Bob-About, and my word, it does bob about too.’

‘Is it yours?’ asked George, rather jealously.

‘Well, it was sold with the light-house, so I suppose it is,’ said Tinker. ‘Anyway, it’s the one we’ll use when we can’t wade over the rocks.’,

‘Well, see you don’t get storm-bound in the lighthouse,’ said the driver, bringing the car to a stop. ‘The sea between Demon’s Rocks and the jetty will be too rough for that little boat, in stormy weather.’

‘I can manage boats all right,’ said George. ‘I’ve had one since I was small.’

‘Yes. You’re pretty good with them, that I do know,’ said the driver. ‘Well - here we are.

Are you going to go straight to the light-house - in that boat? Shall I help you to carry your things to it?’

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‘Well thanks,’ said Julian, and between them they carried everything to the little boat. An old man sat nearby, and he touched his cap to them. ‘Message came through from Kirrin to say I was to get the old boat out for you,’ he said. ‘Which of you’s Master Hayling?’

‘I am,’ said Tinker. ‘And that’s my boat, and that’s my light-house! Come on, everyone -

let’s row to the light-house - come on! I can hardly wait to get there!’

The five children jumped down into the boat, which was certainly acting up to its name of Bob-About! Timmy leapt in after George, but Mischief the monkey cried in terror when Tinker took him into the bobbing boat and sat down, holding him firmly.

‘It’s all right, Mischief,’ said Tinker. ‘Don’t you remember this little boat of mine? You never did like going in a boat, though, did you?’

There were two pairs of oars. Julian took one pair, and George was going to take the other, when Dick quietly took them himself, grinning at George’s angry face.

‘Sorry - there’s a good old swell on the sea, and we’ve to row through some pretty good waves. I’m just a bit stronger than you, George!’

‘I row just as well as you do,’ said George. The boat gave a great roll to one side just then, and she just managed to save one of their suitcases from toppling overboard.

‘Well saved!’ said Julian. ‘And only just in time too! My word, what a swell there is just here!’

‘Are you going to row right over the rocks?’ asked Anne peering down into the water.

‘They are covered by the water now - we shan’t scrape the bottom of the boat at all.’

‘These are the rocks that we can walk over when the tide’s out,’ said Tinker. ‘Lovely pools there are in them, too! I used to wallow in a nice warm one that was so well-heated by the sun that I wished I had a cold tap to turn on when the water felt too hot!’

Anne chuckled. ‘I wish it was warm enough to bathe now,’ she said. ‘My word - look down and see what horrible rocks there are, just beneath the boat!’

‘Yes - I bet they ripped up many a poor ship in the old days,’ said Julian. ‘No wonder they called them Demon’s Rocks! It’s a bit of a pull over them, isn’t it, Dick?’

‘Let me have a turn,’ said George, grabbing at one of Dick’s oars.

‘Nothing doing,’ said Dick, with a grin. ‘You just look after those bags, old thing!’

‘Is it a very old light-house?’ asked Anne, as they swung over the hidden rocks, and the light-house came nearer and nearer. ‘It looks old!’

‘Yes, it is,’ said Tinker. ‘It’s an odd little light-house, really - built by a rich man years and years ago. His daughter was drowned in a ship that was wrecked on these rocks - so he built a light-house, partly as a memorial to the girl, and partly to prevent other shipwrecks.’

Anne gazed at it. It was sturdily built and seemed very tall to her. Its base was firmly embedded in the rocks below it, Dick thought that the foundations must go very deep down into the rocks, to hold the lighthouse firmly in the great gales that must blow in bad

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weather. A gallery, rather like a verandah, ran round the top, just below the windows through which the light-house lamp once shone. What a view there would be from that gallery, thought Anne.

They came near to the light-house, which had stone steps running from the rocks up to a doorway built some way above the crashing waves.

‘Will the door be locked?’ asked Dick, suddenly, ‘I wouldn’t want to row all this way and then find we can’t get into the place!’

‘Of course the door will be locked,’ said Tinker. ‘Anyone got the key?’

‘Oh, don’t be a donkey!’ said Julian, resting his oars, and glaring at Tinker. ‘Do you mean to say we can’t get in, after all this?’

‘It’s all right!’ said Tinker, grinning at Julian’s dismayed face. ‘I just wanted to pull your leg. Here’s the key! It’s my light-house, you see, so Dad gave me the key, and I always carry it about with me. It’s very precious.’

It was an extremely large key, and George marvelled that Tinker could keep it in his pocket. He flourished it at them, grinning again. ‘I’m looking forward to unlocking my lighthouse with my key!’ he said. ‘I bet you wish you had a light-house of your own, George.’

‘Well, yes, I do,’ said George, gazing up at the towering light-house, now so near to them.

‘You’d better be a bit careful now,’ said Tinker to the boys. ‘Wait till a big wave swells up, then ride over it, and make for that rock over there - the one standing out of the water. There’s a calm bit beyond it, for some reason, and you can row up to the steps quite safely. Look out for a stone post there, and chuck the rope round it, George.

You’re in a better position than I am for that.’

It was all done much more easily than the Five hoped. The boat swung into a stretch of fairly calm water, and the two boys rowed hard for the steps. George neatly threw the loop of rope over the post - and there they were, at the foot of the light-house, with only a few rocks to climb over to reach the steps. These rocks were not under water, and one by one the children and Timmy jumped out, and stared up at the light-house. It seemed much bigger now that they were just at the bottom!

‘I’ll unlock the door,’ said Tinker, proudly, and climbed up the steep stone steps. ‘Look at the enormous great stones that my light-house is made of. No wonder it has stood so long!’

He thrust the great key into the lock of the stout wooden door, and tried to turn it. He struggled for a minute, and then turned to the others with a scared face. ‘I can’t open the door!’ he said. ‘Now what do we do?’

‘I’ll have a try,’ said Julian. ‘It’s probably stuck.’ He took hold of the key, gave it a strong twist - and opened the door! Everyone was most relieved. Julian pushed the others in out of the wind and the spray, and shut the door firmly.

‘Well - here we are!’ he said. ‘Isn’t it dark! Good thing I brought a torch!’

He shone the torch round, but all that was to be seen was a steep iron staircase spiralling up the middle of the light-house!

‘The staircase goes right up to the top, to the lamp-room,’ explained Tinker. ‘It passes through a few rooms on the way. I’ll show you. Hang on to the railing of the staircase, you may feel giddy going up round and round so steeply.’

Tinker proudly led the way up the steep little staircase, that went round and round and round! They came to a hole through which the stairway passed into a little dark room.

‘One of the store-rooms,’ said Tinker, and flashed his torch round. ‘See - there are tins

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of food that I told you my father and I left here. Now we go on up to the oil-room - that’s not very big.’

‘What’s the oil-room?’ asked Anne.

‘Oh it was just where tins of paraffin oil used to be kept - the oil they used for the light at the top of the light-house. The old lamp had to burn oil, you see - there wasn’t electricity in those days. Look - here’s the oil-room.’

The oil-room had a very low ceiling, no window, and was packed with old tins. It had a nasty smell, and Anne held her nose with her fingers.

‘I don’t like this room,’ she said. ‘It has a horrid smell and a horrid feel about it! Let’s go on up the staircase.’

The next room had one of the few little windows in the light-house, and as the sun came through it, it was much lighter and more cheerful.

‘This was where my father and I slept,’ said Tinker. ‘My word - look, we forgot to take that old mattress away with us. What a bit of luck! We can use it!’

Up the spiral staircase they went once more, and this time came to a room with a higher

‘ceiling’ than the others, and a good window, though small. The sun came through this one too, and it looked quite homely! It had a table, and three chairs, and a box. It also had an old desk, and a little paraffin stove for boiling water or frying food.

‘There’s my old frying-pan!’ said Tinker. ‘We’ll find that jolly useful. And a kettle - and a saucepan. And we left spoons and forks and knives behind, though not enough for all five of us, I’m afraid. And there’s crockery too - though not as much as there ought to be. I broke rather a lot. But there are some tin cups and plates - I used just to wipe them clean with a cloth. Water’s precious in a light-house you know.’

‘Where is the water-tank?’ asked George. ‘We’ll have to have some water.’

‘My father arranged a catch-tank on the west side of the light-house,’ said Tinker, proudly. ‘It catches rainwater, and runs into a pipe that goes through one of the windows and fills a little tank over a sink. I forgot to show you that. There’s a tap to turn the water on and off. My father’s very clever you know - and a thing like that is as simple as ABC.