While the Storm Rages, page 13
‘You think he used to pull a cart?’ asked Clem.
‘I think it was more likely one of those new tanks they’ve built for the war.’
At that moment, as if he’d heard, Samson cantered over to an apple tree, delivering a kick with his rear legs that would have astounded the Karate masters of the Far East.
The tree shook and shuddered before relinquishing (much to the delight of the other animals) almost every apple that clung to its branches. They rained down to the floor and Winn and Frank fell on the bounty with glee.
And Noah and Clem? All they did was sit, and watch in silence, recording every moment in their minds, their hearts swelling with both pride and resolve. Pride that they had done the right thing in saving these wonderful animals, and resolve that now they had come so far, they would never give up. Not until their fight had been won.
34
They ate, grateful to Samson for putting a little bit of variety on the menu.
They were thankful for Big Col’s fish of course but as this wasn’t their first serving of the day, the foraged apples slid down a treat, and the donkey practically shuddered with delight at the neck scratches he received from Noah as they digested their meal. Samson’s discovery had inspired Clem too, and she scampered into the nearest hedgerows to Noah’s bemusement.
‘She probably needs the lav,’ laughed Big Col, only for him to eat his words when she returned with handfuls of the sweetest, ripe berries.
‘I wouldn’t have thought of it if it wasn’t for Samson,’ and she offered the donkey one, which he sniffed at, nibbled, then sneezed out in disgust.
It was amazing what a full belly could do to improve the outlook. The berries managed to be both sweet and tangy, and the juice in them made them momentarily forget that they would soon be out of clean water to drink. It was enough to allow them to sit a while and reflect.
‘We should plough on,’ Noah said, eventually. He could see though that tiredness was setting in, most of the troupe looked exhausted. The kittens were the only exception: they seemed to want to do nothing but play. It may have been their increasing familiarity with the children, but they were definitely showing a more mischievous side to their personalities: one that was difficult to control.
As Big Col reluctantly made to stand, one of them launched himself at his backside, grabbing on to his shorts and making the boy recoil so violently it was clear that its claws had made contact with flesh. It would’ve been comical had Big Col not been so angry, swinging his hips from side to side as the kitten hung on for grim death. Finally dislodging the cat didn’t help either, as the second one saw this as their opportunity to join in the fun.
‘For Pete’s sake!’ screamed Big Col, his face such a collage of scarlet and crimson anger that Clem and Noah felt compelled for their own safety, as well as the kittens’, to help. Not that they did much good. It merely stirred the devil up in the kittens and they skittered around the bank, avoiding every attempt to round them up. Not even the lure of the fish bones enough to bring them under control. By the time they were, finally, back in hand, all three of the children were saturated with sweat.
Noah had a thought. Big Col actually said it out loud.
‘Are we really going to take these blasted cats all the way with us?’
‘We don’t have a choice, do we?’ Noah replied. ‘They’re just babies.’
‘They’re a flipping nuisance, and unless you can control them, it’s going to be a nightmare, you mark my words.’
‘It won’t be that bad,’ Noah said, though he didn’t believe it after what he’d just experienced. ‘Anyway, it can’t be that far now.’
‘How far?’ It was clear Big Col wanted answers and straight-talking, so Noah did what he always did when facts were needed, he looked to Clem, who sighed before making some mental calculations.
‘Hard to say exactly...’ she pondered.
‘Why is it hard?’ said Big Col.
‘Because the boat’s going slower than I expected...’ Noah glared at that. ‘And I don’t have a ruler to measure the exact route, and even if I did, we know where Windsor is on the map, but not the Duchess’ estate.’
The colour in Big Col’s face escalated from livid to volcanic, despite the fact that he already knew this. ‘This isn’t going to work,’ he ranted. ‘Not when we don’t even really know where she lives.’
‘Not in terms of the map, we don’t,’ Noah interjected. ‘But we all agreed Windsor was the most likely place. As we get closer, there’ll be people we can ask.’
‘What? Like policemen? Why don’t we just turn ourselves in now, eh?’
‘Why don’t you just clear off now instead?’ Noah roared back. ‘Do us all a favour!’
He looked to Clem for support, but didn’t get it.
‘Calm down, both of you!’ she said, one palm pointing peacefully at each of them. ‘This is getting us nowhere. NOWHERE.
‘What we need to do, is not argue. Split up, and we’re useless. We may as well all turn back. But stick together – and well, there’s nothing we can’t do, and nowhere we can’t reach.’
She turned to Noah. ‘You’re the ideas man.’ Big Col coughed sarcastically. ‘All right, they might be rough and ready sometimes, but more often than not, there are diamonds there that just need a bit of polishing, that’s all. And as for you...’ she turned to Big Col as Noah crossed his arms, defying her to find something positive to say. ‘If it wasn’t for your fishing skills, well, we’d be even grumpier than we are now. You might not like it, but we all need each other. And there’s a big enough war going on elsewhere without you two adding to the hostilities!’
Clem stopped and waited. She didn’t want to resort to banging their heads together, but if it came to it, then she’d blooming well try.
‘I’m not shaking his hand,’ was the best Big Col could muster.
‘Suits me,’ replied Noah, and after slapping Samson’s rump gently, he led the way back onboard. The others followed, Frank as always huffing and puffing at the rear.
Noah didn’t hesitate to resume captain duties, while Big Col returned Delilah to the warmth of the cabin. And Clem? She breathed a sigh of relief, and allowed herself a moment of respite, fussing Frank as he muzzled her legs affectionately.
Back behind the wheel Noah was not as relaxed, because from the second he powered up Maudie’s engine, he knew something was wrong. Seriously wrong this time. For starters, the engine didn’t catch first time. Instead, there was a short sharp yelp, a noise Noah hadn’t heard before, whether on this journey or any other. And so he had no idea how Dad would cope with it. Open the choke and try again? Or wait a minute for fear of flooding the engine?
Out of panic, he tried the engine again and again, until finally, finally, it caught. But it wasn’t right. It was pained, panting almost and it didn’t improve as they started to edge down the river. He could see Clem watching him, concern etched on her face but he tried to ignore it. In fact he ignored everything, concentrating only on the boat and willing it along. He didn’t so much as look up when Clem pointed out Hampton Court Palace and started trying to tell him and Big Col all about Henry VIII and his six wives.
The next twenty minutes were tortuous. Noah felt his panic and temperature rise, so much so that he wondered if he was coming down with something. His body ached from the tension he was holding in his muscles and then his other senses started to trick him too. His head throbbed, his fingers tingled, but most weirdly he started to smell burning, like his insides had caught fire.
He tried to shrug it off, to tell himself not to be so silly, but the smell would not go away, in fact it got worse, so bad that it wasn’t just him who could smell it.
‘What is that stink?’ grunted Big Col appearing for a moan. But it was Clem as usual who got to the root of things.
‘SMOKE!’ she cried, pointing to the deck in front of the driver’s cabin, as a plume slithered between the planks, thick and noxious.
‘What’s going on?’ shouted Big Col fearfully.
‘It’s pretty simple – we’re on fire!!’ she replied.
‘So what do we do?’
But neither Noah nor Clem replied. They were both already moving in the same direction, to the metal buckets sitting at the cramped bow of the boat. It was tricky to get past Samson without agitating him, and he was already shuffling nervously at the sight of the smoke, but they couldn’t be deterred, not if they wanted to stay afloat.
‘We need to bail water on to the engine, and we need to do it quick,’ Noah yelled. He couldn’t believe this was happening, could kick himself. He’d known all day that the engine wasn’t right, but he’d done what he always did and made rash decisions, and now? Well he risked sinking something his dad held dear, so dear that if he did make it home from the war, he’d probably disown Noah anyway.
‘Fill this up!’ he said, throwing the bucket at Big Col.
‘Where from?’
‘Are you serious? We’re on a river, you bloody fool! Clem, back Samson up, and keep him CALM!’ Noah yelled, ripping open the hatch that led to the engine and releasing a new thunderous cloud of black smoke. ‘Soon as the buckets are full, pour them on here. Then get more! Quick!’
He wasn’t barking orders out of laziness, he’d already dived behind the wheel and was steering hard to portside, so hard that he felt the Maudie lurch, sending both Clem and her full bucket skittering across the deck.
“NOAH!!!’ she yelled.
‘I can’t help it. I have to get us to the bank before she bursts into flames!’
The plan in his head was remarkably clear. If the smoke became flames, they needed to abandon ship, and quickly. They would have seconds, not minutes, and whilst it was fair to assume that most of the animals could jump and swim to dry land, Noah couldn’t imagine Samson leaping the rail. And as for Delilah? Well, snakes weren’t known for their breaststroke.
Noah knew he was responsible for everyone being on Queen Maudie in the first place, and so he was going to do everything he could to get them off safely too.
But whatever his plan, he was going to have to execute it quickly, as through the deck, the first orange flame poked its fingers, and waved the most sinister of greetings.
35
They were surrounded by water. In front, behind, underneath, it was everywhere, but they couldn’t they get hold of it quick enough.
It was a stretch for Big Col, never mind Clem, to reach the river from the side of the boat, and even when they managed it, too much was spilt before they reached the fire. As Noah had feared, the flames were spreading rapidly, devouring the planks of the deck, throwing the animals into a blind panic. Winn had leaped on to the cabin’s roof, barking incessantly at the flames, as if she could scare them away, whilst Frank could only scrabble at the cabin’s wall, his little legs and ageing lungs letting him down as usual. The kittens though, had found a more unusual sanctuary, clambering up Samson’s tail like it was a rope in a gymnasium. Joseph was now sitting on the donkey’s back, claws dug in for maximum purchase while Mary had gone even further, not stopping until she was perched on Samson’s hat.
Samson wasn’t happy about it, in fact, the poor beast was the most terrified of all. He started braying wildly, rearing on to two legs which tested the kittens’ balance, hooves stamping in the most futile fashion, trying to quash the flames that danced closer and closer.
All Noah could do was hang off the steering wheel, pulling left as hard as he could. He’d had to kill the power already, terrified that a running engine would only fan the flames further, or even worse, cause an explosion below deck, sinking not only Maudie, but everyone on board.
The world seemed to slip into a strange dimension where time stood still, the only thing moving, still growing, was the flames. Clem and Big Col did their best, but their buckets seemed like thimbles, and the fire almost laughed at their pitiful attempts to extinguish it. It was then, that Noah knew his plan was in tatters.
‘Get the gangplank ready and the animals too,’ he yelled, hands white as he gripped the wheel still harder. ‘Soon as we’re in range, you need to wedge it on the bank and get Samson off the boat.’
‘And what if he won’t go?’ Big Col shouted back.
‘Ride him down it, pick him up and carry him. Do whatever you have to do to get him on land. Do you hear?’
For once, Big Col didn’t argue. He nodded, before putting the sack with Delilah already in it, next to where the gangplank would sit. While he did that, Clem gathered Frank, Winn, Joseph and Mary by her side, though keeping them there wasn’t easy. The kittens in particular, hissed and spat their disapproval.
‘Brace yourselves!!’ Noah yelled as the riverbank finally approached. Even if he’d had a brake, he wouldn’t have hit it. He wouldn’t have dared: not with the flames roaring their presence now.
When contact came, it was still a shock, knocking all of them, apart from Samson, off their feet. Noah heard and felt a crunch, then a crack. He was terrified. It was the noise of something breaking irreparably.
‘Go, GO, GO!!’ he yelled, jamming Dad’s skipper hat on to his head, but forsaking everything else that lay around him.
Big Col didn’t hesitate, hoisting the gangplank like it were a toothpick and jamming it into position.
‘Clem, get the dogs and kittens off first,’ Noah yelled, and she did as instructed, none of the animals needing any encouragement.
Samson however, was a different matter. Donkeys are, of course, known for their stubbornness, and as the cramped deck where he stamped was now dominated by flames, he was paralysed with fear. He wasn’t moving for anyone, or anything.
Big Col pulled hard at the rope around his muzzle, but Samson wasn’t listening, never mind obeying. Instead, he raised his head back sharply, almost dragging Big Col headfirst into the flames. If they didn’t get the donkey moving quickly, then it would be surrounded by fire in no time. Noah ducked back into the driver’s cab, grabbed Dad’s mac and dunked it into the river over the side of the boat.
‘Here. Quick,’ he shouted to Big Col as he dashed to his side, ‘we need to spread the coat over Samson’s back.’ Samson was so big, there was much more chance of the flames catching hold of some part of him. And if they did? Well, with all that fur, Noah feared for the donkey’s life.
Big Col did as he was told, and the coat seemed to be working, with sparks disappearing the second they hit the mac. Getting him to move however, was still a serious stumbling block. They begged, pleaded, pulled and swore at Samson to move, but nothing worked, sending Noah’s anxiety spiralling still further. What else could they do? The answer simply was force, though Noah knew he couldn’t get too close to Samson’s back end if he wanted to spur him on. One kick from his powerful hind legs wouldn’t just mean an end to their mission, but to him remaining conscious. He needed something, anything that would help him keep a healthy distance.
And there it was, slung in the corner, Dad’s fishing rod. Without hesitation, Noah grabbed it, and after apologising to Samson for what he was about to do, he delivered a firm whack to the donkey’s rump.
The effect was instantaneous. Like a thoroughbred, spurred on by his rider’s crop, Samson drove forwards, dragging Big Col along with him, arms wrapped around his head to shield himself from the flames’ finger ends.
‘That’s it!’ roared Noah in delight, following closely behind, not stopping roaring until four hooves and four legs had negotiated the gangplank and were standing on dry land.
Then, and only then, did the horror of the situation reappear, as they stood, together, looking back at Queen Maudie, as the flames ate her alive.
Tears slid slowly down Noah’s face. He couldn’t believe what was happening, couldn’t imagine what Dad would say when he finally found out, or cope with the fact that all of it was his fault. But he tried to tell himself repeatedly they were lucky to be alive.
‘Is everyone all right?’ he asked, turning to the others.
Clem nodded. Big Col coughed yes.
‘And the animals?’
His eyes scanned them, as if he were taking a register. Two dogs? Tick. Two kittens? Yes. A donkey? Yes, though the straw hat was singed and charred.
Which left only one.
Where was Delilah?
Noah’s eyes flitted quicker than a snake’s, but no matter where he looked, there was no sack to be seen, and neither was Big Col wearing her as he often did.
‘Oh no,’ mouthed Noah, before Big Col did the same.
‘On the deck!’ the big lad screamed. ‘The sack is on the deck! Why didn’t you grab it?’
But Noah had no time to listen to accusations. He was already on the move. Back up the gangplank.
Clem screamed, but Noah didn’t hear her.
All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears, and the welcoming, warning roar of the flames as he jumped, flush, into their arms.
36
‘The problem with you, son, is you jump constantly, from the frying pan to the fire.’
The line had often been repeated (by Mum, mostly), but seldom heeded. If it had been, then he wouldn’t have found himself here, the living embodiment of her warning.
But Noah couldn’t help it, not just on this occasion, but always. If an idea flashed into his head and it seemed like a good one, then what was the point in delay? He wanted to grab the thought, seize it by the scruff of its neck and make the most of it.
Sometimes it went wrong, but even when it did, he usually found a way to wrestle some kind of positive from the result. It was just what he did.
But at that moment, surrounded by fire and smoke and the remains of his dad’s beloved boat, Noah wondered if his impetuousness had finally caught up with him.
The power of the flames seemed to be shrivelling his skin, and no matter which way he moved, it worsened. The smoke too, was thick and acrid, making him hack so hard that he thought his lungs would burst. And with watering eyes, it felt impossible to see.
