While the Storm Rages, page 10
A quick, stern warning toot from a passing tug soon pulled him from his daydream and forced him to concentrate once more.
Bridges loomed then passed: After Putney, there was Hammersmith, Barnes, Chiswick and Kew, with fewer big commercial boats around and more rowing boats appearing. The children mentally marked off the bridges, another landmark down, another step closer.
The approach to Kew Bridge had even brought a new landmark: one that Noah hadn’t expected, in the shape of an island, sitting proudly in the middle of the river.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ he asked.
‘Depends what you think it is,’ said Big Col deadpan, ‘Cos it’s not the Duchess’ estate, you know.’
‘Obviously,’ Noah scoffed. ‘I just didn’t know there were islands in the Thames.’
Cue Clem and her encyclopaedic knowledge. ‘There are nearly two hundred of them.’
The boys looked at her like she was mad.
‘What? There are. Do you never listen in class? Honestly.’
Noah thought she must have been in different lessons to him. He concentrated in lessons. Sometimes.
‘I think this must be Oliver’s Island,’ she went on, reaching for the map. ‘SO many birds nest on there. Herons and geese and cormorants.’
But that wasn’t the thing on Noah’s mind. ‘Which side do I stay on? Left or right?’
‘Left.’ Clem advised. ‘Tide’s not as high now is it, so don’t to veer too close to shore.’
Noah did as he was told, Clem’s wildlife lesson continuing on deaf ears as he tried to keep his focus purely on the river ahead, burning orange as the sun set. He had to get them there in one piece because he knew, KNEW that at the end of it, was the Duchess’ estate and the animals’ salvation. He’d even managed to force the thought of his mum and her certain anger from his mind.
Yes, she’d be cross, he thought, crosser than ever before, but surely she’d be proud as well. And as for Dad? Well, this would be the story he’d tell down the pub when he returned, never mind what he’d done on the battlefields.
Know what my lad did?
Saved animals from death. Single handed.
Sailed the Maudie down the Thames and back. Not a scratch on her or anything.
Noah felt a glow fill him up. It would be all right. More than all right. Dad would be safe, and they’d fetch Winn from the Duchess the day war finished.
But just as the image seemed as real as it could possibly be, he was dragged back to the here and now.
‘Here, Noah,’ Clem called, from the bow of the boat. ‘Look at that boat there. To the right. The little one.’
Noah tilted his cap back. There wasn’t much to see. It was little more than a rowing boat to be honest, and as it was in no danger of crashing into them, he was ready to dismiss it.
‘What about it?’
‘Well, shouldn’t there be someone onboard, given that it’s drifting down river?’
Noah frowned. She was right, although the river was quieter it was still wide and fast-flowing. How had he not noticed that?
‘Maybe they’re having a sleep?’ he offered weakly, but Clem was having none of it, putting one foot on Maudie’s rail to make herself as tall as Big Col.
‘It’s empty, I’m telling you. There is literally NO ONE onboard.’
But, unexpectedly, as soon as the words left her mouth, Clem realised she’d got it wrong. As above the bow of the rowing boat poked one, then two small heads, kitten heads with their fur stuck to them, making their eyes look as round and fearful as they could possibly be.
‘Cats!’ yelled Clem. ‘Two of them. Look! They can’t be more than a few weeks old.’
It was a bizarre sight, and it rather paralysed Noah, staring at them blindly instead of easing off the throttle.
‘What are you doing?’ shouted Clem. ‘Slow down, will you?’ Which was enough to engage Big Col into the conversation.
‘Why? ‘’S not our problem, is it?’
‘Neither were you or Delilah, but here you are.’
Big Col swore under his breath, then was nearly thrown off his feet when Noah eased off the throttle entirely. ‘Watch it, you idiot!’ he yelled. But Noah only had eyes for the rowing boat, plotting its course and feeling his heart race when he saw it approaching a sandbank laid bare by the lowering tide.
‘It’s going to run aground, look. They’ll get stuck,’ he shouted.
‘Good,’ huffed Big Col. ‘Least they won’t smash into another boat.’
‘Yeah but what about the kittens, you fool?’ Noah said the last two words under his breath.
‘Not much we can do about them, is there?’
‘Not much we can do?’ Noah felt his cheeks reddening. ‘What sort of answer is that?
‘Well, they’re not ours, are they?’
‘Neither’s Samson and he’s got the best seat on the flipping boat!!’
Noah looked to Clem for moral support, but surprisingly found her siding with Big Col.
‘He’s right, Noah. I don’t know what we can do.’
‘What? This boat has got reverse, you know?’
I know,’ said Clem, ‘but get too close to that sandbank and we’ll end up stranded too. People passing might help a couple of cute kittens, but do you really think they’ll get close enough to rescue three kids, two dogs, a donkey in a straw hat and a python?!’
Noah wanted to swear. Why did she have to do that? Be so sensible ALL THE TIME?!
‘So that’s it? We just sail on and do nothing?’ he ranted. ‘Then why even bother telling me about them?’
‘Calm down, Noah, please.’ Clem moved towards him, palms outstretched in peace, but Noah was in no mood to be pacified. He was fed up with people telling him he was wrong, that his boat was a rusty bathtub, and he was especially tired of people telling him his plans were rubbish.
He shut down Maudie’s engine, and slung aside his captain’s Mac and cap before marching to the boat’s stern, tossing his vest and shirt behind him too.
‘Noah, what are you doing??’
‘The wrong thing, I expect,’ he replied. ‘As per usual.’ And with that, his shorts hit the deck too, leaving him resplendent in a pair of underpants what had once been white.
And that was it. With a jump on to the stern’s rail, he stood, like a grubby Tarzan of the Apes, before diving (less gracefully than he thought), deep into the Thames embrace.
28
Reactions on board were mixed.
Big Col laughed, not quite believing what he’d seen, whereas Clem, while she might have wanted to bury her head in her hands in disbelief, chose not to. She was too worried.
‘That boy belongs in the asylum,’ hooted Big Col.
‘If he’s not careful he’ll end up in the blooming morgue,’ she replied.
‘It’s only a river.’
‘Yes, and until we get to Teddington this river is tidal and has strong currents. You can’t go swimming in the tidal part of the Thames. You just can’t. It’s too dangerous.
‘Poppycock,’ sniffed Big Col. ‘Look at it. Smooth as anything and the sun’s been on it all day. It’ll be like being in the bath.’
Clem chose to ignore him. She knew what she knew. Sun or otherwise, it could be cold under the surface, and the current could change in a second. It wasn’t like Noah was a strong swimmer, or if he was he’d certainly kept unusually quiet about it.
She hung over the side of the boat and told him again and again to turn back. Not that he listened to her. But if her reaction was one of worry, then Winn’s was frantic, trying to use Clem’s leg as a ladder to find out where her master was.
‘It’s all right, Winn,’ Clem said reassuringly, bending down to pet her. ‘Noah’s just gone for a little swim, that’s all.’ She wanted to tell her he was being a damned fool, but the dog was so much brighter than its owner, Clem was worried she would understand.
Either way, Winn was neither reassured nor silent, and scratched again at Clem’s leg, whilst whimpering and crying.
‘I know, I know,’ said Clem. ‘He doesn’t listen to any of us.’ Not that Noah could at the moment anyway, as his head was in and out of the water while he thrashed gracelessly closer to the sandbank.
The water was not as warm as he’d expected it to be, in fact it was freezing, and despite his exertions, his finger ends were already a little numb. But still, he could see the bank and the boat were getting closer, and as he finally made contact with the sandbank, he could hear the kittens crying for help.
But the sand? Well, it wasn’t like being on the beach at Margate. It was thick and cloying, and he realised very quickly that if he stayed still on it for too long, then it started to grip and swallow first his ankles then his calves. If he panicked and paused further it’d be edging up his knees, and if that happened, it’d take something a lot stronger than two soggy kittens to get him out. So he ploughed on, ripping his leg from its clutches, not stopping until he gripped the side of the rowing boat and pulled himself, breathless, into its tiny bow. The mud let go with one last, reluctant slurp.
He must have looked a state, this boy in baggy Y-fronts, caked in mud and smelling none too pleasant, and the kittens were far from overjoyed at seeing him: one hissing venomously while the other hid fearfully under the bench.
‘It’s all right,’ he whispered. ‘Nothing’s going to hurt you now.’ But as he reached out, he was rebuffed with a swinging claw that might not inflict much damage, but still remained a shock. It was at odds with the kittens’ appearance, as they were the very epitome of chocolate box cute. Their eyes appeared way too big for their faces, whilst their fur, despite being sodden, still shone the most vibrant tiger orange.
‘Noah!!’ came a voice from the distance. ‘Are you all right?’ It was Clem. He turned and offered her a thumb, but looking back across at the boat he felt a little nervous. Once he calmed the kittens, he would still have to navigate both the sandbank and the current back to the Queen Maudie. He couldn’t even try to row the boat back, as the oars were missing.
For now every attempt he made to befriend the kittens failed miserably. Eventually he tried a different tack, sitting on the floor of the boat, not moving or looking in their direction, until slowly, the more timid cat appeared from beneath the bench and gingerly approached his big toe, sniffing first, then batting it with its paw as if it were prey. Noah did nothing. Move too quickly and he risked scaring the kitten away, so he waited, and waited, only wiggling his toe back when he sensed the kitten wanted to play. A quick bat with its claw, followed by an energetic pounce and then the kitten ignored his foot, rubbing itself the length of his calf, despite the mud caked there, until finally, it allowed itself to be stroked, nestling its soggy fur against Noah’s chest and fingers, purring gently.
It was a victory, he knew that, but there was still the second cat to win round. But as he pondered how best to do that, the strangest thing happened; the spitting kitten retracted his claws and trotted up to Noah, demanding the same attention as his brother or sister.
It took Noah by surprise, and reinforced his opinion of cats. They could be very cute of course, but unlike his beloved dog, they were contrary and fickle and troublesome. That said, he still couldn’t leave them to starve, so he took a deep breath, stood tall inside the boat and worked out the best route back to his friends.
It was only then, that the flaw to his genius plan revealed itself.
How on earth was he going to swim while his hands were full with two, unpredictable kittens?
29
Noah avoided the worst of the quicksand by entering the water from the other end of the boat, where the bow met the river itself, but the second the kittens realised what was going on, they panicked, writhing and squirming so ferociously that Noah lost grip of them altogether and they were left to paddle for themselves. This increased their panic, one of them sliding under the water altogether, saved only by Noah’s quick reactions as he scooped it back up, treading water to stay buoyant.
It didn’t take long for Noah’s lungs to burn from exertion, and this was before he’d even attempted to move. His hands were redundant as paddles, full as they were with kittens, which left him with just his legs. But if he tried to kick towards the boat, it was impossible to keep both his own head and the kittens above the water level. He felt trapped, helpless, and the others felt it too.
‘What can we do?’ asked Big Col, in an unprecedented display of sympathy. ‘He can’t swim like that.’
‘Do you think we can get the boat closer to him?’ Clem replied, scanning the water between them and the sandbank.
‘I dunno. Doubt it. We’ll run aground. And you know it might not just be sand under the surface. Might be rocks too.’
Clem doubted it, but shared his worry about getting stranded. The sun was setting now and the traffic on the river reduced to practically naught. If they did run aground, how would they get off, let alone lead all the animals safely to the Duchess. But as much as she wanted all the animals to be rescued, this was her best friend in the water and he urgently needed her help.
If Clem were concerned though, it was nothing compared to Noah’s other true companion, because although Winn couldn’t really see what was going on, she sensed, knew, that Noah needed her. So with every yard of run up that the deck allowed her, she suddenly leaped into the river, front paws using the rail of the boat as a springboard. The effect was breathtaking as Winn cut through the darkening skies, soaring with such grace that it felt as if she would only hit the water when she landed beside her master. As she burst into the Thames with her customary belly flop, she cut it in two, ignoring any current or undertow that might dare to conspire against her. Within a minute she had reached Noah, and seeing her master flail and panic, she took the scruff of one kitten’s neck between her jaws, before turning, and paddling her way back.
The effect on Noah was immediate. The kitten may not have weighed any more than a bag of sugar, but his hand, now free of the load, was able to paddle, and he turned on his side, one arm swimming furiously, the other keeping the kitten just above the water.
‘Keep going!’ yelled Clem from the deck. ‘Quick. Grab something we can use as a pole to fish him out,’ she screamed to Big Col.
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. Anything. And bring your fishing line and a basket or box, something like that?’
‘What for?’
‘Just do it!’ she shouted firmly.
Big Col scuttled off, returning with a fishing rod, line and a battered old wicker basket that had held kindling for the stove.
‘This do?’
‘Fine, great. Now rig the line to the basket so we can winch the kittens up when they get here.’
Big Col didn’t need telling twice and fashioned a hoist in time for Winn’s return. The poor dog didn’t look as spritely now as she had when she left the boat.
Quickly, down went the basket, and although Winn was a dog, who wanted nothing but a simple life of walks, food, warmth and strokes, she knew immediately what to do. She dropped the kitten into the basket before turning to swim back for the other one.
Later, Noah would feel emotional about what happened in the water that day: the devotion his dog showed in saving him not once, but twice. Because by the time Winn returned, Noah was exhausted from battling the current, and close to giving up. The more he swam towards the boat, the further away it seemed to get. But as soon as Winn took that second kitten in her teeth, Noah banished those thoughts, and although he ached and burned with tiredness, he forced himself to swim behind his dog. If she hadn’t given up, then neither could he.
Winn was swimming along with the current, not trying to battle through it. And it seemed to be working. After a while they were able to find a passage beyond the worst of the currents and make their way back to the boat, Clem and Col shouting encouragement all the way.
Noah refused to get out of the water before Winn was safely back onboard, using every last bit of energy he had to hoist her towards the outstretched arms of Big Col, as his own legs kicked below the surface. It was a struggle, and Winn didn’t think much of being handled in such an undignified way, but finally, finally, everyone who entered the water, had exited it again, and everyone, whether they had been swimming or not, lay on the deck of Queen Maudie, panting with exhaustion or relief. All except the two kittens, who were already asleep, nuzzled deep into Winn’s coat. The dog might not have liked it, but at that moment in time, she was too tired to do a single thing about it.
30
The sun finally gave up and hid below the horizon. There was no way they’d reach the Duchess’ tonight. Big Col did not take it well.
‘What do you mean we’re going to have to stop for the night?’ he moaned.
‘Exactly that,’ Clem replied in her firmest teacher voice. ‘If you looked at the map, you’d see we’re not even halfway there yet.’
‘Why not?’
‘For a number of reasons. Perhaps the boat hasn’t been quite as fast as we expected...’
Noah flinched, expecting to be blamed for that.
‘. . . plus, the river has been busy, and we’ve stopped twice, haven’t we?’
‘Well, I say we go on,’ the big lad spat.
‘Just as well you’re not the Captain then,’ Noah interrupted. ‘And anyway, why are you in such a rush? Do you want to be evacuated or something?’
‘You would too, if you had a family like mine,’ Big Col muttered, but Noah didn’t hear him, and he had his own reasons for stopping. Wanting to rest Maudie’s tired engine for one. ‘In a while we’re going to start hitting locks, there’s a big one at Richmond, and I reckon three kids trying to get through it in the middle of the night might just draw attention from the lock keeper there, don’t you?’
