Daddy looked at the clock and said: now itâs gone wrong again. Clocks are inventions of the devil! We tried to go to sleep again, but we couldnât. Daddy tried to get something on the wireless, but it just whined. Then we went out to see if anything had happened to the earth lead. It looked just as it should. The aerial was still there in the birch tree. It was eight oâclock but still completely dark. As we all felt wide awake we had a cup of tea. Fanny was sitting on the fence singing the great rain song.
It was nine oâclock, ten, eleven and then twelve, but the sun did not rise and it stayed dark. Then Daddy said, well, dammit, somethingâs wrong. Sohe went and talked to Old Charlie for a while. Old Charlie was taking his fishing-nets up and said the weatherâs sure to change somehow. This sort of thing hasnât been seen in living memory.
It was as silent as during an eclipse of the sun. And it was cold, too. Mummy carried in some wood and lit the fire. Then it was two oâclock and three oâclock and four oâclock. It was seventy-five minutes past six. Then Mummy said: we have two packets of candles and half a gallon of oil. But then who knows what will happen to us.
And just then there was a rumbling below the horizon.
That was a good story. Another one.
One evening just before dusk we heard a faint gurgling sound. When we went out to see what it was we saw that the sea had subsided fifteen feet and the beach was green and slimy. The boats were strangling themselves with their painters. The perch in the fish-cage were jumping about like mad. Empty bottles and old tins crept up out of the sea and looked ashamed of themselves. The sea went on falling. There were bubbles round Red Rock as the sea slunk down into the cod-bank. The sea crept further and further out and sank lower and lower revealing hundreds of old skeletons, dead pigs and unmentionable things.
Unmentionable things. It couldnât be worse than that.
Suddenly I was fed up with everything.
You can jump from one stone to another. That is you must jump very quickly and only touch each stone for a second. You must never step on to the seaweed or the sand, only on the stones, faster and faster. In the end you become a wind, the wind itself, and it whistles in your ears and everything else is wiped out and vanished, there is only the wind and jumping and jumping and jumping. I never make a false jump, Iâm confident and strong and I go on jumping until I come to the last bay which is tiny and beautiful and all my own. Here is the climbing tree with branches all the way up like Jacobâs Ladder and at the top the whole pine tree is swaying because the wind is now coming from the south-west. The sun has come up in time for breakfast.
If a thousand little girls walked past under this tree not one of them would have the faintest idea that I am sitting up here. The pine cones are green and very hard. My feet are brown. And the wind is blowing right through my hair.
Flotsam and Jetsam
I F THE WATER RISES THEREâLL BE A STORM . If it falls very quickly and sharply there might be a storm too. A ring around the sun may be dangerous. And a smoky, dark-red sunset bodes no good either. There are many more things like this, but I canât be bothered with them just now. If itâs not one thing then itâs another.
In the end, Daddy couldnât put up with being uneasy about the weather and set off. He set the spritsail and said, now remember that one mustnât have a single unnecessary thing in a boat.
We sat still. We werenât allowed to read because that shows a lack of respect for the boat. You couldnât trail anything in the water, such as painters or boats of bark because the pilots might see them. We gave the sandbank a fairly wide berth, but not too narrow because thatâs asking for trouble and not too wide because that lookstoo cautious and the pilots might see it. Then we were on
It was nine oâclock, ten, eleven and then twelve, but the sun did not rise and it stayed dark. Then Daddy said, well, dammit, somethingâs wrong. Sohe went and talked to Old Charlie for a while. Old Charlie was taking his fishing-nets up and said the weatherâs sure to change somehow. This sort of thing hasnât been seen in living memory.
It was as silent as during an eclipse of the sun. And it was cold, too. Mummy carried in some wood and lit the fire. Then it was two oâclock and three oâclock and four oâclock. It was seventy-five minutes past six. Then Mummy said: we have two packets of candles and half a gallon of oil. But then who knows what will happen to us.
And just then there was a rumbling below the horizon.
That was a good story. Another one.
One evening just before dusk we heard a faint gurgling sound. When we went out to see what it was we saw that the sea had subsided fifteen feet and the beach was green and slimy. The boats were strangling themselves with their painters. The perch in the fish-cage were jumping about like mad. Empty bottles and old tins crept up out of the sea and looked ashamed of themselves. The sea went on falling. There were bubbles round Red Rock as the sea slunk down into the cod-bank. The sea crept further and further out and sank lower and lower revealing hundreds of old skeletons, dead pigs and unmentionable things.
Unmentionable things. It couldnât be worse than that.
Suddenly I was fed up with everything.
You can jump from one stone to another. That is you must jump very quickly and only touch each stone for a second. You must never step on to the seaweed or the sand, only on the stones, faster and faster. In the end you become a wind, the wind itself, and it whistles in your ears and everything else is wiped out and vanished, there is only the wind and jumping and jumping and jumping. I never make a false jump, Iâm confident and strong and I go on jumping until I come to the last bay which is tiny and beautiful and all my own. Here is the climbing tree with branches all the way up like Jacobâs Ladder and at the top the whole pine tree is swaying because the wind is now coming from the south-west. The sun has come up in time for breakfast.
If a thousand little girls walked past under this tree not one of them would have the faintest idea that I am sitting up here. The pine cones are green and very hard. My feet are brown. And the wind is blowing right through my hair.
Flotsam and Jetsam
I F THE WATER RISES THEREâLL BE A STORM . If it falls very quickly and sharply there might be a storm too. A ring around the sun may be dangerous. And a smoky, dark-red sunset bodes no good either. There are many more things like this, but I canât be bothered with them just now. If itâs not one thing then itâs another.
In the end, Daddy couldnât put up with being uneasy about the weather and set off. He set the spritsail and said, now remember that one mustnât have a single unnecessary thing in a boat.
We sat still. We werenât allowed to read because that shows a lack of respect for the boat. You couldnât trail anything in the water, such as painters or boats of bark because the pilots might see them. We gave the sandbank a fairly wide berth, but not too narrow because thatâs asking for trouble and not too wide because that lookstoo cautious and the pilots might see it. Then we were on
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