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    Over Sea, Under Stone
    Over Sea, Under Stone
    Over Sea, Under Stone
    Ebook283 pages4 hours

    Over Sea, Under Stone

    By Susan Cooper

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    About this ebook

    Three siblings embark on an epic quest for a mythic grail in this first installment of Susan Cooper’s epic and award-winning The Dark Is Rising Sequence, now with a brand-new look!

    All through time, the two great forces of Light and Dark have battled for control of the world. Now, after centuries of balance, the Dark is summoning its terrifying forces to rise once more…and three children find themselves caught in the conflict.

    The Drew siblings—Simon, Jane, and Barney—are on a family holiday in Cornwall when they discover an ancient map in the attic of the house they are sharing with their Great Uncle Merry. They know immediately that the map is special but have no way of knowing how much. For the map leads to a grail: a vital weapon for the Light’s fight against evil. In taking on the quest to find the grail, the Drews will have to race against the sinister human beings who serve the dreadful power of the dark—an adventure that puts their own lives in grave peril.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMargaret K. McElderry Books
    Release dateMar 6, 2012
    ISBN9781442458956
    Over Sea, Under Stone
    Author

    Susan Cooper

    Susan Cooper is one of our foremost fantasy authors; her classic five-book fantasy sequence The Dark Is Rising has sold millions of copies worldwide. Her books’ accolades include the Newbery Medal, a Newbery Honor, the Boston Globe–Horn Book Award, and five shortlists for the Carnegie Medal. She combines fantasy with history in Victory (a Washington Post Top Ten Books for Children pick), King of Shadows, Ghost Hawk, and her magical The Boggart and the Monster, second in a trilogy, which won the Scottish Arts Council’s Children’s Book Award. Susan Cooper lives on a saltmarsh island in Massachusetts, and you can visit her online at TheLostLand.com.

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    Reviews for Over Sea, Under Stone

    4/5

    1,631 ratings79 reviews

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    • 5/5
      Wonderful introduction to the 'Dark is Rising' Sequence by Susan Cooper. Suited to the older ages in the YA genre.
    • 3/5
      I liked this. I will definitely read the next one.
    • 4/5
      Dark and deliciously suspenseful. I'm a little surprised it wasn't too dark and deliciously suspenseful for my somewhat sensitive children, but they usually have more trouble with movies than with books so maybe I shouldn't be surprised. I'm glad, though, because I enjoyed the book and now we can put the second in the series in our "lunchtime listening" queue.
    • 4/5
      Book 1 of 5 of The Dark Is Rising Sequence. Simon, Jane and Barney are on holiday in Cornwall when they discover a hidden door leading to a dusty attic in the mysterious old house that is their accommodation. On exploring further they discover an ancient map harking back to Arthurian times. For Susan Cooper this is ‘the first in her marvellous contemporary Once Upon a Timer series, and the bits she has added all echo the oldest stories of England and Wales, especially the King Arthur legends’ (Hunt, 2002, p. 170). Evil forces from time gone by are watching and following the children, waiting for the time of battle when the sheer heroism shown by the children is inspiring. Great-Uncle Merry is a very interesting, if somewhat mysterious character who rescues the siblings from danger more than once after they take him into their confidence. The style of writing is very descriptive enabling the reader to vividly imagine that scene such as in the following extract: ‘And then, looming over the dark brow of the headland, they saw the outline of the standing stones. Magnified by the darkness, they towered mysteriously against the silver-washed sky, and vanished unnervingly into shadow whenever a cloud rushed over the face of the moon’ (Cooper, 1968, p. 108). I still don’t know what ‘squashed-fly biscuits’ (Cooper, 1968, p. 16) are though, although I am intrigued with the description.While I found the first few pages of this book a bit slow, once I was in a bit further I was hooked. The entire second half I had to read all in one go, as, being a mother, I was so worried about the children’s safety that I couldn’t put it down and go to sleep until the conclusion had been reached. A really good read, I will be purchasing this set for our school library and look forward to reading the four other books in the series with great anticipation.
    • 4/5
      People's perception of China is often colored by the way we see it today: as a rising power, filled with the smoke of a million factories churning out the products that we in the west consume. However, there is a great depth to China, and its culture is one of the oldest surviving in the world. This book, though small in size, attempts to show at least part of that culture to the west.It is a collection of several stories from over a hundred years of Chinese history. It includes some of China's greatest writers and some of their best works. Whether you are interested in China, Asia or just good literature, editor Kirk Denton managed to gather some truly great stories.
    • 4/5
      I was really good. Not 5-star, but good.⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️. READ IT!!!!!!!
    • 4/5
      I gave this as a Christmas gift to my nephew and read it before wrapping it. The kids loved it, although I was worried some parts would be a little too scary for the youngest. My sister read it aloud to them and they requested more books in the series.
    • 3/5
      I know I read this as a kid but I didn't remember much of it.
    • 2/5
      Three children find an ancient treasure map.1.5/4 (Meh).Boring, inane, and in the end it doesn't even answer any of its mysteries.
    • 2/5
      I like Aurthurian legend stuff but this book really did not age well (by which i mean the crazy racism against indigenous peoples wtf) and just didnt stand out to be the way the other stuff from Cooper has to me.
    • 3/5
      A young person's adventure Arthurian story. Children are on vacation in Cornwall and they find an ancient map in the attic of the house they are staying in. The map was a key to finding a grail for fighting evil known as the Dark. First volume of the fantasy series, The Dark is Rising. Published 1965. Classic, British Children literature.
    • 5/5
      Gorgeously well-written. Something for everyone, from action to suspense to magic
    • 5/5
      A great introduction to a great series. This is a re read for me as I have read it in the 1980’s. A mystery wrapped in secrets and Arthurian overtones. This is a children’s story with a dark, intriguing and mysterious undertone. Worth seeking out. The first of a brilliant series of books.
    • 4/5
      Three children on holiday in Cornwall with their enigmatic great-uncle find a mysterious manuscript and are drawn into a hunt for a long-hidden artifact. Could it be the Grail?Somehow, I missed this series as a child, which is a pity, as I would have loved it. Reading it as an adult is pleasant enough, but as a child I would have found the Drew siblings' adventures much more thrilling and compelling. I think it's held up well to the ravages of time -- it didn't feel terribly dated to me, apart from a couple of odd slang words (swizzle?). Recommended, especially to fantasy-loving young readers.
    • 5/5
      This is the first in The Dark is Rising sequence, of which I have a boxed set. One book in the series won the Newbery Award, while another was on the honours list.This is the adventure that siblings Simon, Jane and Barney Drew have one summer in Cornwall, where they have been invited by their Great Uncle Merry (whom they call Gumerry). Tall, and somewhat forbidding, Gumerry tends to disappear mysteriously and then reappear suddenly, having discovered important archeological treasures abroad. As a long-standing family friend, he invites the entire family to come and stay with him in a house he rents from a friend of his in Trewissick (a fictional Cornish port, whose landscape plays an important role in the story).One rainy day, the children explore the house and find a disintegrating document which pits them against sinister forces in a desperate race to find a long sought treasure, throwing them up against Arthurian legends and the ancient, unresolved battle between good and evil.This book is, to me, typical of (British) children's books of that era; though it is aimed at children, it is solidly written and doesn't patronise them by glossing over details, as some children's books tend to do. Despite being a slim volume, at under 200 pages, it is crammed with narrative and quite intense in places; it had me sitting up breathlessly reading as fast as I could, as I got towards the end (even though I have read it in the past, when I was a child myself), hoping the children would beat the forces of nature and thwart the forces of evil.A classic, and deservedly so. Five stars.
    • 3/5
      I read this years ago and remembered it to be the least exciting of the Dark is Rising series. The audiobook reading of it was fine, but it was a little boring - though that may have been because I remembered the story (which is more than I can say for many books I've read!).
    • 4/5
      Over Sea, Under Stone is the first book in Susan Cooper's The Dark Is Rising sequence, which was so poorly served by the recent awful movie allegedly based upon it. Aimed at the young adult market, the books hold up well even for older readers (although an older reader will likely figure out the mysteries in the books long before their answers are revealed in the text). The book follows the adventures of the Drew children on holiday in Cornwall as they try to figure out the meaning of a treasure map they found in the dusty attic of their vacation home. Through the book, the Drew children are opposed by mysterious enemies, and aided by their great uncle Merry.The plot of the novel reads like a standard young adult mystery – I think it may be no accident that the Drew children share their name with Nancy Drew. However, the writing is good, and the mystery is interesting. There is just enough suggestion of the supernatural to set up the more standard fantasy elements of the later books in the series while still allowing for one to believe that this sort of story could really happen. In that regard, the novel captures one of the very wonderful things about childhood: that feeling that something magical may be hidden just around the corner, and if you just look for it hard enough, you could find it. Great uncle Merry, through the revelations concerning his involvement in the story, hints at a larger hidden world full of magic and adventure.The world depicted is somewhat quaint by current standards – sleepy seaside towns in Cornwall during the 1960s were apparently somewhat less than cosmopolitan, but without the homey atmosphere generated by the setting, the novel wouldn't work. The novel captures the magic of being a child, without talking down to the reader, or oversimplifying the story, making it a fine start to a very good series.
    • 3/5
      First off, I'm much older than the intended audience for this book. I give this three stars reading it as an adult; I can see why I liked it as a kid, but there is a big gap between then and now!
    • 3/5
      An entertaining but formulaic children's adventure; perfectly readable, with a few neat twists, but no classic.
    • 5/5
      Ostensibly the first book in the Dark is Rising series, but I read it after I'd already been introduced to Will Stanton. It's my least favorite of the series and I like the Drew siblings the least of all the characters in the series, but it's still far and away better than all other fantasy.
    • 4/5
      Great book. Read it as a child and again a year it so ago. Loved it than and now.
    • 4/5
      I enjoyed this Arthurian YA fantasy tale quite a bit. It struck me as Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys go to Narnia with a pinch of Wrinkle in Time. Plotwise, not everything makes sense but I still found it an engrossing story. I plan to read the rest of the series this year.
    • 4/5
      I read this series in high school, and though I found the first book to be the weakest, this series is one of the reasons I love reading and enjoy writing - they left a deep impression on me I'll never forget. I love this series, I own all five in a box set and lives happily on my bookshelf.
    • 4/5
      I picked up this series to reread. I'd read it several times as a child, but forgotten pretty much everything about it except that I liked it. The series holds up well. I particularly enjoyed "The Dark Is Rising" (book two) with its rural British Christmas setting. I never was completely clear about why the Drew children were important--I guess they were just in the right place at the right time. There's no question about Will Stanton, the seventh son of a seventh son, or about his friend Bran whose origins are even more remarkable.
    • 3/5
      The three Drew children discover an ancient map in the attic of their holiday home, which when the mysterious writing is revealed seems to point to the hiding place of a grail. For some reason I was under the impression this was a fantasy tale and, although it has a tiny bit of magic in it, it's really mainly a mystery for the younger reader. It was a decent read, but a little too Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys for me to love it. I have been told the following installments are "proper" fantasy, so I'll continue the series for sure.
    • 4/5
      Children on adventures...what fun! Seems to be a more subdued fantasy within modern elements. Really enjoyed it.
    • 5/5
      Over Sea, Under Stone by Susan Cooper; (5*)I don't know what I expected when I began this Y/A book but it certainly wasn't the ride I was taken on. Most of the reviews I had read on this title were underwhelming to say the least so it was a very great & pleasant surprise to me when I found myself so ingrained in the story that I literally got goose bumps, didn't hear my husband when he spoke to me and was on the edge of the chair for most of the book. I could not put it down. And now I can't wait for the entire set of the series to arrive. I ordered it as soon as I completed Over Sea, Under Stone.The story begins with Simon, Jane and Barney arriving with their parents for a nice holiday visiting their great Uncle Merry in Cornwall. But then, but then............the children find an ancient map in the attic while exploring the old house. They must unravel the mystery of the map and what it might possibly lead them to. They try to keep it a secret but word gets out somehow and strange & somewhat frightening people begin to follow them and ask them questions. All of a sudden everybody seems very interested in them. And why is their Great-Uncle being so protective of them? Are they in danger? Their Uncle Merry has discussed the fight between the Light and the Dark and tells the children that as long as the Light is still out there, the Dark cannot overcome all.This book is a wonderful beginning to what I hope is a roller coaster of a thrilling series. This book is not openly about the battle between the Light and the Dark. It is just about three children trying to understand the map and what it is leading them to. Susan Cooper has done a very good job of writing this little thriller. It sucked me right in and I was frightened when the children were frightened and found myself saying aloud: "No, don't tell him. He isn't good." I was in it with the kids all the way. I highly recommend this book to youngsters & adults alike who enjoy a tingling good story.
    • 3/5
      I enjoyed the writing, and the characters quite a lot. The plot, on the other hand, felt weak. Events happened far too conveniently. The narration was good, and I recall being very impressed with the second book in this series. I've heard from others that this is the weakest book in the series, so I'll keep listening and see how it goes.
    • 2/5
      For many years, I didn't realize this book existed--I thought [book:The Dark Is Rising] was actually the first book in a series of 4. I was excited to learn that there was another book in the series I'd liked so much, but wasn't crazy about it after reading. I found the Drew children kind of stupid and missed having Will as a main character.
    • 4/5
      I don't know if it's because of how young I was when this book was read to me for the first time, or the fact that adults are following the children and planning them harm, but this book still is kind of creepy to me, and I am not easily scared anymore. It's a well written urban fantasy series though, although I bit on the creepy side in general (again, not sure why I feel that way).
      On a complete tangent, I also find it interesting that this was written before Lord of the Rings because it doesn't feel that old, while Lord of the Rings feels epic and ancient. I'm sure there are a lot of books that fulfill that relationship but these two are connected in my mind.

    Book preview

    Over Sea, Under Stone - Susan Cooper

    CHAPTER ONE

    WHERE IS HE?"

    Barney hopped from one foot to the other as he clambered down from the train, peering in vain through the white-faced crowds flooding eagerly to the St. Austell ticket barrier. Oh, I can’t see him. Is he there?

    Of course he’s there, Simon said, struggling to clutch the long canvas bundle of his father’s fishing rods. He said he’d meet us. With a car.

    Behind them, the big diesel locomotive hooted like a giant owl, and the train began to move out.

    Stay where you are a minute, Father said, from a barricade of suitcases. Merry won’t vanish. Let people get clear.

    Jane sniffed ecstatically. I can smell the sea!

    We’re miles from the sea, Simon said loftily.

    I don’t care. I can smell it.

    Trewissick’s five miles from St. Austell, Great-Uncle Merry said.

    "Oh, where is he? Barney still jigged impatiently on the dusty grey platform, glaring at the disappearing backs that masked his view. Then suddenly he stood still, gazing downwards. Hey—look."

    They looked. He was staring at a large black suitcase among the forest of shuffling legs.

    What’s so marvellous about that? Jane said.

    Then they saw that the suitcase had two brown pricked ears and a long waving brown tail. Its owner picked it up and moved away, and the dog which had been behind it was left standing there alone, looking up and down the platform. He was a long, rangy, lean dog, and where the sunlight shafted down on his coat it gleamed dark red.

    Barney whistled, and held out his hand.

    Darling, no, said his mother plaintively, clutching at the bunch of paint-brushes that sprouted from her pocket like a tuft of celery.

    But even before Barney whistled, the dog had begun trotting in their direction, swift and determined, as if he were recognizing old friends. He loped round them in a circle, raising his long red muzzle to each in turn, then stopped beside Jane, and licked her hand.

    Isn’t he gorgeous? Jane crouched beside him, and ruffled the long silky fur of his neck.

    Darling, be careful, Mother said. He’ll get left behind. He must belong to someone over there.

    I wish he belonged to us.

    So does he, Barney said. Look.

    He scratched the red head, and the dog gave a throaty half-bark of pleasure.

    No, Father said.

    The crowds were thinning now, and through the barrier they could see clear blue sky out over the station yard.

    His name’s on his collar, Jane said, still down beside the dog’s neck. She fumbled with the silver tab on the heavy strap. It says Rufus. And something else… Trewissick. Hey, he comes from the village!

    But as she looked up, suddenly the others were not there. She jumped to her feet and ran after them into the sunshine, seeing in an instant what they had seen: the towering familiar figure of Great-Uncle Merry, out in the yard, waiting for them.

    They clustered round him, chattering like squirrels round the base of a tree. Ah, there you are, he said casually, looking down at them from beneath his bristling white eyebrows with a slight smile.

    Cornwall’s wonderful, Barney said, bubbling.

    You haven’t seen it yet, said Great-Uncle Merry. How are you, Ellen, my dear? He bent and aimed a brief peck at Mother’s cheek. He treated her always as though he had forgotten that she had grown up. Although he was not her real uncle, but only a friend of her father, he had been close to the family for so many years that it never occurred to them to wonder where he had come from in the first place.

    Nobody knew very much about Great-Uncle Merry, and nobody ever quite dared to ask. He did not look in the least like his name. He was tall, and straight, with a lot of very thick, wild, white hair. In his grim brown face the nose curved fiercely, like a bent bow, and the eyes were deep-set and dark.

    How old he was, nobody knew. Old as the hills, Father said, and they felt, deep down, that this was probably right. There was something about Great-Uncle Merry that was like the hills, or the sea, or the sky; something ancient, but without age or end.

    Always, wherever he was, unusual things seemed to happen. He would often disappear for a long time, and then suddenly come through the Drews’ front door as if he had never been away, announcing that he had found a lost valley in South America, a Roman fortress in France, or a burned Viking ship buried on the English coast. The newspapers would publish enthusiastic stories of what he had done. But by the time the reporters came knocking at the door, Great-Uncle Merry would be gone, back to the dusty peace of the university where he taught. They would wake up one morning, go to call him for breakfast, and find that he was not there. And then they would hear no more of him until the next time, perhaps months later, that he appeared at the door. It hardly seemed possible that this summer, in the house he had rented for them in Trewissick, they would be with him in one place for four whole weeks.

    The sunlight glinting on his white hair, Great-Uncle Merry scooped up their two biggest suitcases, one under each arm, and strode across the yard to a car.

    What d’you think of that? he demanded proudly.

    Following, they looked. It was a vast, battered estate car, with rusting mudguards and peeling paint, and mud caked on the hubs of the wheels. A wisp of steam curled up from the radiator.

    Smashing! said Simon.

    Hmmmmmm, Mother said.

    Well, Merry, Father said cheerfully, I hope you’re well insured.

    Great-Uncle Merry snorted. Nonsense. Splendid vehicle. I hired her from a farmer. She’ll hold us all, anyway. In you get.

    Jane glanced regretfully back at the station entrance as she clambered in after the rest. The red-haired dog was standing on the pavement watching them, long pink tongue dangling over white teeth.

    Great-Uncle Merry called: Come on, Rufus.

    Oh! Barney said in delight, as a flurry of long legs and wet muzzle shot through the door and knocked him sideways. Does he belong to you?

    Heaven forbid, Great-Uncle Merry said. But I suppose he’ll belong to you three for the next month. The captain couldn’t take him abroad, so Rufus goes with the Grey House. He folded himself into the driving seat.

    The Grey House? Simon said. Is that what it’s called? Why?

    Wait and see.

    The engine gave a hiccup and a roar, and then they were away. Through the streets and out of the town they thundered in the lurching car, until hedges took the place of houses; thick, wild hedges growing high and green as the road wound uphill, and behind them the grass sweeping up to the sky. And against the sky they saw nothing but lonely trees, stunted and bowed by the wind that blew from the sea, and yellow-grey outcrops of rock.

    There you are, Great-Uncle Merry shouted, over the noise. He turned his head and waved one arm away from the steering-wheel, so that Father moaned softly and hid his eyes. Now you’re in Cornwall. The real Cornwall. Logres is before you.

    The clatter was too loud for anyone to call back.

    What’s he mean, Logres? demanded Jane.

    Simon shook his head, and the dog licked his ear.

    He means the land of the West, Barney said unexpectedly, pushing back the forelock of fair hair that always tumbled over his eyes. It’s the old name for Cornwall. King Arthur’s name.

    Simon groaned. I might have known.

    Ever since he had learned to read, Barney’s greatest heroes had been King Arthur and his knights. In his dreams he fought imaginary battles as a member of the Round Table, rescuing fair ladies and slaying false knights. He had been longing to come to the West Country; it gave him a strange feeling that he would in some way be coming home. He said, resentfully: You wait. Great-Uncle Merry knows.

    And then, after what seemed a long time, the hills gave way to the long blue line of the sea, and the village was before them.

    Trewissick seemed to be sleeping beneath its grey, slate-tiled roofs, along the narrow winding streets down the hill. Silent behind their lace-curtained windows, the little square houses let the roar of the car bounce back from their whitewashed walls. Then Great-Uncle Merry swung the wheel round, and suddenly they were driving along the edge of the harbour, past water rippling and flashing golden in the afternoon sun. Sailing-dinghies bobbed at their moorings along the quay, and a whole row of the Cornish fishing boats that they had seen only in pictures painted by their mother years before: stocky workmanlike boats, each with a stubby mast and a small square engine-house in the stern.

    Nets hung dark over the harbour walls, and a few fishermen, hefty, brown-faced men in long boots that reached their thighs, glanced up idly as the car passed. Two or three grinned at Great-Uncle Merry, and waved.

    Do they know you? Simon said curiously.

    But Great-Uncle Merry, who could become very deaf when he chose not to answer a question, only roared on along the road that curved up the hill, high over the other side of the harbour, and suddenly stopped. Here we are, he said.

    In the abrupt silence, their ears still numb from the thundering engine, they all turned from the sea to look at the other side of the road.

    They saw a terrace of houses sloping sideways up the steep hill; and in the middle of them, rising up like a tower, one tall narrow house with three rows of windows and a gabled roof. A sombre house, painted dark-grey, with the door and windowframes shining white. The roof was slate-tiled, a high blue-grey arch facing out across the harbour to the sea.

    The Grey House, Great-Uncle Merry said.

    They could smell a strangeness in the breeze that blew faintly on their faces down the hill; a beckoning smell of salt and seaweed and excitement.

    As they unloaded suitcases from the car, with Rufus darting in excited frenzy through everyone’s legs, Simon suddenly clutched Jane by the arm. "Gosh—look!"

    He was looking out to sea, beyond the harbour mouth. Along his pointed finger, Jane saw the tall graceful triangle of a yacht under full sail, moving lazily in towards Trewissick.

    Pretty, she said, with only mild enthusiasm. She did not share Simon’s passion for boats.

    She’s a beauty. I wonder whose she is? Simon stood watching, entranced. The yacht crept nearer, her sails beginning to flap; and then the tall white mainsail crumpled and dropped. They heard the rattle of rigging, very faint across the water, and the throaty cough of an engine.

    Mother says we can go down and look at the harbour before supper, Barney said, behind them. Coming?

    Course. Will Great-Uncle Merry come?

    He’s going to put the car away.

    They set off down the road leading to the quay, beside a low grey wall with tufts of grass and pink valerian growing between its stones. In a few paces Jane found she had forgotten her handkerchief, and she ran back to retrieve it from the car. Scrabbling on the floor by the back seat, she glanced up and stared for a moment through the wind-screen, surprised.

    Great-Uncle Merry, coming back towards the car from the Grey House, had suddenly stopped in his tracks in the middle of the road. He was gazing down at the sea; and she realised that he had caught sight of the yacht. What startled her was the expression on his face. Standing there like a craggy towering statue, he was frowning, fierce and intense, almost as if he were looking and listening with senses other than his eyes and ears. He could never look frightened, she thought, but this was the nearest thing to it that she had ever seen. Cautious, startled, alarmed… what was the matter with him? Was there something strange about the yacht?

    Then he turned and went quickly back into the house, and Jane emerged thoughtfully from the car to follow the boys down the hill.

    The harbour was almost deserted. The sun was hot on their faces, and they felt the warmth of the stone quayside strike at their feet through their sandal soles. In the center, in front of tall wooden warehouse doors, the quay jutted out square into the water, and a great heap of empty boxes towered above their heads. Three sea-gulls walked tolerantly to the edge, out of their way. Before them, a small forest of spars and ropes swayed; the tide was only half high, and the decks of the moored boats were down below the quayside, out of sight.

    Hey, Simon said, pointing through the harbour entrance. That yacht’s come in, look. Isn’t she marvellous?

    The slim white boat sat at anchor beyond the harbour wall, protected from the open sea by the headland on which the Grey House stood.

    Jane said: Do you think there is anything odd about her?

    Odd? Why should there be?

    Oh—I don’t know.

    Perhaps she belongs to the harbour-master, Barney said.

    Places this size don’t have harbour-masters, you little fathead, only ports like Father went to in the navy.

    Oh yes they do, cleversticks, there’s a little black door on the corner over there, marked Harbour-Master’s Office. Barney hopped triumphantly up and down, and frightened a sea-gull away. It ran a few steps and then flew off, flapping low over the water and bleating into the distance.

    Oh well, Simon said amiably, shoving his hands in his pockets and standing with his legs apart, rocking on his heels, in his captain-on-the-bridge stance. One up. Still, that boat must belong to someone pretty rich. You could cross the Channel in her, or even the Atlantic.

    Ugh, said Jane. She swam as well as anybody, but she was the only member of the Drew family who disliked the open sea. Fancy crossing the Atlantic in a thing that size.

    Simon grinned wickedly. Smashing. Great big waves picking you up and bringing you down swoosh, everything falling about, pots and pans upsetting in the galley, and the deck going up and down, up and down—

    You’ll make her sick, Barney said calmly.

    Rubbish. On dry land, out here in the sun?

    Yes, you will, she looks a bit green already. Look.

    I don’t.

    Oh yes you do. I can’t think why you weren’t ill in the train like you usually are. Just think of those waves in the Atlantic, and the mast swaying about, and nobody with an appetite for their breakfast except me….

    Oh shut up, I’m not going to listen—and poor Jane turned and ran round the side of the mountain of fishysmelling boxes, which had probably been having more effect on her imagination than the thought of the sea.

    Girls! said Simon cheerfully.

    There was suddenly an ear-splitting crash from the other side of the boxes, a scream, and a noise of metal jingling on concrete. Simon and Barney gazed horrified at one another for a moment, and rushed round to the other side.

    Jane was lying on the ground with a bicycle on top of her, its front wheel still spinning round. A tall dark-haired boy lay sprawled across the quay not far away. A box of tins and packets of food had spilled from the bicycle carrier, and milk was trickling in a white puddle from a broken bottle splintered glittering in the sun.

    The boy scrambled to his feet, glaring at Jane. He was all in navy-blue, his trousers tucked into Wellington boots; he had a short, thick neck and a strangely flat face, twisted now with ill temper.

    Look where ’ee’s goin’, can’t ’ee? he snarled, the Cornish accent made ugly by anger. Git outa me way.

    He jerked the bicycle upright, taking no heed of Jane; the pedal caught her ankle and she winced with pain.

    It wasn’t my fault, she said, with some spirit. You came rushing up without looking where you were going.

    Barney crossed to her in silence and helped her to her feet. The boy sullenly began picking up his spilled tins and slamming them back into the box. Jane picked one up to help. But as she reached it towards the box the boy knocked her hand away, sending the tin spinning across the quay.

    Leave ’n alone, he growled.

    Look here, Simon said indignantly, there’s no need for that.

    Shut y’ mouth, said the boy shortly, without even looking up.

    Shut your own, Simon said belligerently.

    Oh Simon, don’t, Jane said unhappily. If he wants to be beastly let him. Her leg was stinging viciously, and blood trickled down from a graze on her knee. Simon looked at her flushed face, hearing the strain in her voice. He bit his lip.

    The boy pushed his bicycle to lean against the pile of boxes, scowling at Barney as he jumped nervously out of the way; then rage suddenly snarled out of him again. —off, the lot of ’ee, he snapped; they had never heard the word he used, but the tone was unmistakable, and Simon went hot with resentment and clenched his fists to lunge forward. But Jane clutched him back, and the boy moved quickly to the edge of the quay and climbed down over the edge, facing them, the box of groceries in his arms. They heard a thumping, clattering noise, and looking over the edge they saw him lurching about in a rowing-dinghy. He untied its mooring-rope from a ring in the wall and began edging out through the other boats into the open harbour, standing up with one oar thrust down over the stern. Moving hastily and angrily, he clouted the dinghy hard against the side of one of the big fishing-boats, but took no notice. Soon he was out in open water, sculling rapidly, one-handed, and glaring back at them in sneering contempt.

    As he did so they heard a clatter of feet moving rapidly over hollow wood from inside the injured fishing-boat. A small, wizened figure popped up suddenly from a hatch in the deck and waved its arms about in fury, shouting over the water towards the boy in a surprisingly deep voice.

    The boy deliberately turned his back, still sculling, and the dinghy disappeared outside the harbour entrance, round the jutting wall.

    The little man shook his fist, then turned towards the quay, leaping neatly from the deck of one boat to another, until he reached the ladder in the wall and climbed up by the children’s feet. He wore the inevitable navy-blue jersey and trousers, with long boots reaching up his legs.

    Clumsy young limb, that Bill ’Oover, he said crossly. Wait’ll I catch ’n, that’s all, just wait.

    Then he seemed to realise that the children were more than just part of the quay. He grunted, flashing a quick glance at their tense faces, and the blood on Jane’s knee. Thought I heard voices from below, he said, more gently. You been ’avin’ trouble with ’n? He jerked his head out to sea.

    He knocked my sister over with his bike, Simon said indignantly. It was my fault really, I made her run into him, but he was beastly rude and he bashed Jane’s hand away and—and then he went off before I could hit him, he ended lamely.

    The old fisherman smiled at them. Ah well, don’t ’ee take no count of ’n. He’m a bad lot, that lad, evil-tempered as they come and evil-minded with ut. You keep away from ’n.

    We shall, Jane said with feeling, rubbing her leg gingerly.

    The fisherman clicked his tongue. That’s a nasty old cut you got there, midear, you want to go and get ’n washed up. You’m on holiday here, I dessay.

    We’re staying in the Grey House, Simon said. Up there on the hill.

    The fisherman glanced at him quickly, a flicker of interest passing over the impassive brown wrinkled face. Are ’ee, then? I wonder maybe—then he stopped short, strangely, as if he were quickly changing his mind about what he had been going to say. Simon, puzzled, waited for him to go on. But Barney, who had not been listening, turned round from where he had been peering over the edge of the quay.

    Is that your boat out there?

    The fisherman looked at him, half taken aback and half amused, as he would have looked at some small unexpected animal that barked. That’s right, me ’andsome. The one I just come off.

    Don’t the other fishermen mind you jumping over their boats?

    The old man laughed, a cheerful rusty noise. I’d’n no other way to get ashore from there. Nobody minds you comin’ across their boat, so long’s you don’t mark ’er.

    Are you going out fishing?

    Not for a while, midear, said the fisherman amiably, pulling a piece of dirty rag from his pocket and scrubbing at the oil-marks on his hands. Go out with sundown, we do, and come back with the dawn.

    Barney beamed. I shall get up early and watch you come in.

    Believe that when I see ’n, said the fisherman with a twinkle. Now look, you run and take your little sister home and wash that leg, don’t know what scales and muck have got into it off here. He scuffed at the quay with his glistening boot.

    Yes, come on, Jane, Simon said. He took one more look out at the quiet line of boats; then put up his hand to peer into the sun. I say, that oaf with the bicycle, he’s going on board the yacht!

    Jane and Barney looked.

    Out beyond the far harbour wall, a dark shape was bobbing against the long white hull of the silent yacht. They could just see the boy climbing up the side, and two figures meeting him on the deck. Then all three disappeared, and the boat lay deserted again.

    Ah, said the fisherman. So that’s it. Young Bill were buying stores and petrol and all, yesterday, enough for a navy, but nobody couldn’t get it out of him who they was for. Tidy old boat, that’n—cruisin’, I suppose. Can’t see what he made all the mystery about.

    He began to walk along the quay: a rolling small figure with the folded tops of his boots slapping his legs at every

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