Coot Club. Arthur Ransome

everything else.

      People in a hurry always interested her. She was always ready to take sides with anybody running to catch a train, and had been known to clap her hands when she saw somebody make a really good dash for an omnibus. “Good boy,” she murmured to herself, and waited to see him again when he should come paddling past the port-holes on the opposite side of the cabin.

      THE TEASEL (SAILS AND INSIDE)

      But he never came past those port-holes at all. There was the faintest possible jar as he caught hold of the Teasel. There was a sudden, slight list, very slight, for Tom was not heavy, but enough to make Dick and Dorothea wonder what Mrs. Barrable could be doing. Mrs. Barrable leaned forward again and, through that same round port-hole by the mast, caught a glimpse of a rubber sea-boot on the foredeck. There was the faint but unmistakable noise of the opening of the forehatch, a fumbling with ropes, the shifting of a heavy weight, quick steps on the foredeck, a bump, a slow, sucking gurgle, the slam of the forehatch closing, a thud on the bank, the crackle of dry reeds and then, a few moments later, a tremendous salvo of barking from the watchdog, William, leisurely returning to duty.

      Mrs. Barrable pushed away the folding table and hurried out of the cabin. The washers-up looked at her in astonishment. Both were down on their knees stowing things away.

      “What’s happened?” asked Dorothea.

      “What’s the matter with William?” said Dick.

      “I don’t quite know,” said Mrs. Barrable. “A boy in a punt …” she worked her way out from under the awning, expecting to see that punt, or whatever it was, lying alongside the Teasel. But there was no punt at all. It had vanished, like the boy. And from behind the reeds there came the frenzied barking of the pug.

      “William!” called Mrs. Barrable. “William! Come here!”

      She went forward along the side-deck, steadying herself with a hand on the awning. There was wet on the foredeck. What could that mean? And a rope led from the forehatch over the side. Mrs. Barrable lifted the hatch and looked down into the forepeak. Why in the world, when the Teasel was safely moored to the bank, should anybody want to anchor her with the mudweight as well?

      “William!” she called again, and William came out of the reeds, stopping on the gang-plank to do a little more barking, over his shoulder, to show people that he was afraid of nobody and that a better watchdog did not exist.

      “Quiet, William!”

      Dick and Dorothea looked out with wondering faces. They, too, climbed out from the well.

      “Quiet, William!” said Mrs. Barrable. “He must have been running away from something. Shut up, William! Listen!”

      Yes. They could all hear that something was coming down the river. There was the deep, booming roar of a motor being run at full speed. Another of those motor-cruisers. A very loud loud-speaker was asking all the world never to leave him, always to love him, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, bang, bang, bang. And beside the loud-speaker there were other voices, loud, angry voices, not singing love songs but shouting at each other. There it was, a big motor-cruiser, coming round the bend.

      William was now on the foredeck, but still looking behind him and barking at the reeds on shore. Mrs. Barrable, her eyes sparkling, her mind made up, encouraged him, but pointed towards the motor-cruiser that was roaring down towards them. William was puzzled. Quick work, if that boy in the reeds had managed already to be out there on that noisy thing coming down the river. But he supposed his mistress knew, and anyhow he hated that kind of noise. So, with Mrs. Barrable whispering “Cats! William, Bad Cats!” into his ears, William faced the oncoming cruiser and put into his barking all he thought about boys who startled honest pugs by lying hid in reeds so that the honest pugs ran into them face to face on their own level. There was a good deal of noise, what with William, and the loudspeaker, and the quarrel going on among the people aboard the cruiser, who were all shouting to make themselves heard above the roar of their engine. Old Mrs. Barrable, hiding her excitement, held William by the fat scruff of his neck, as if she feared he might leap overboard in his eagerness to tear to pieces the loud-speaker and its accompanists. Dick and Dorothea worked their way forward from the counter along the side-decks. What was happening? Dorothea was trying one story after another, but none seemed to fit.

      Suddenly the quarrel aboard the cruiser seemed to come to an end. There was a furious shout from the man who was at the wheel. Everybody was pointing straight at Dick. The big cruiser swerved towards the Teasel. Her engine was put into reverse and there was a frantic swirl of water as she lost way.

      “Whaddo you mean by it?” shouted the steersman of the cruiser.

      But by now another of the Hullabaloos was pointing at the Teasel’s little dinghy lying astern of her.

      “That’s not the boy,” he shouted, trying to make himself heard. “Can’t you see the boat, you ass? It wasn’t like that. Bigger boat! LONGER! And that’s a white boat. The other one was dark—a sort of punt.”

      “It wasn’t you turned us loose?” That was the steersman again.

      “I,” said Dick. “I …”

      Mrs. Barrable spoke. “He had nothing to do with you. He has been with me, moored here, the whole afternoon.”

      “Oh. Have you seen a boy go by?”

      “In a sort of long black punt.”

      “Nobody’s gone by since the racing,” said Mrs. Barrable.

      “Eh?” shouted one of the Hullabaloos.

      “Do turn that thing off,” shouted another.

      Everybody aboard the cruiser seemed to be shouting at once, and the loud-speaker was still begging all the world never to leave him, nor to deceive him, bang, bang, bang, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle.

      “It must have been one of those three guttersnipes this afternoon.” “Bothering us about a beastly bird’s nest.” “Taking up our anchors and casting us loose.” “All right. All right. I’ll wring the little brute’s neck.”

      A girl in the gaudiest of beach pyjamas may have thought she was whispering to the man at the wheel of the cruiser, but she had to shout to be heard by him and what she said was just as clearly heard aboard the Teasel.

      “No good talking to the old woman. He must have gone by.” Mrs. Barrable’s eye hardened slightly.

      “I shall be obliged to you if you will mind my paint,” she said, as the cruiser was coming dangerously near.

      “Paint!” said the girl rudely, and then, shouting into the steersman’s ear, “Don’t waste any more time. Let’s buzz along. We’ll catch him if you only get on. He can’t have got very far.”

      The engine roared again. The water at the stern of the cruiser was churned into foam. There was a heavy bump as her stern swung in and struck the Teasel, and the Margoletta went roaring, singing and quarrelling down the reach and out of sight. William, after giving a good imitation of a hungry lion being with difficulty held back from the savaging of helpless victims, turned round towards the reedy bank and barked once more.

      Mrs. Barrable also faced the reeds.

      “They’ve gone on,” she said, in a very clear voice, though quite low. “Hadn’t you better come out and explain?”

      There was a rustle and stir among the reeds, and Dick and Dorothea saw the boy they had met in the train come out, looking rather shy and bothered, close by the pug’s gang-plank.

      “Were you lurking all the time?” said Dorothea.

      “You?” said Mrs. Barrable. “We’ve seen you once before today.”

      “Twice,” said Dick. “Once in the train, and once when he was cooking in his boat.”