Chapter Four
SETTLING IN

The Five stared after Wilfrid in silence. Timmy wagged his tail and whined. He wanted the boy to come back.
‘Well, thank you, Timmy, old thing,’ said Anne, patting the big dog on the head. ‘We certainly wouldn’t have had this lovely little cottage, with its incredible view, if you hadn’t made friends with Wilfrid. What a funny boy he is!’
‘Jolly queer, I think!’ said George, still amazed at the way that Timmy had gone to Wilfrid, when the boy had been about to strike him. ‘I’m not sure that I like him!’
‘Don’t be an ass, George,’ said Dick, who had been very much impressed by the boy’s handling of the hares, the rabbits and the magpie. ‘That boy must have a wonderful love for animals. They would never come to him as they did, if they didn’t trust him absolutely. Anyone who loves animals as he does must be pretty decent.’
‘I bet I could make them come to me if I had that pipe,’ said George, making up her mind to borrow it if she could.
Anne went back into the cottage. She was delighted with it. ‘It must be very very old,’ she thought. ‘It stands dreaming here all day long, full of memories of the people who have lived here and loved it. And how they must all have loved this view - miles and miles of heather, great stretches of sea - and the biggest, highest, widest sky I’ve ever seen. It’s a happy place. Even the clouds seem happy - they’re scurrying along, so white against the blue!’
She explored the cottage thoroughly. She decided that the room above, under the thatch, should be for the three boys. There were two mattresses - one small, one larger. ‘The little one for Wilfrid - the big one for Dick and Julian,’ she thought. ‘And I and George can sleep down in the living-room, with Tim on guard. I wonder if there are any rugs we could sleep on. Ah - wait a bit - this couch is a pull-out bed - just right for us two girls! Good!’
Anne enjoyed herself thoroughly. This was the kind of problem she liked - fixing up this and that for the others! She found a little larder, facing north. It had a few tins in it, and a jug of milk, slightly sour. It also had two loaves of extremely stale bread, and a tin of rather hard cakes.
‘Mrs Layman doesn’t seem to be a very good housekeeper for herself and Wilfrid,’ thought Anne, seriously. ‘We’ll have to go down to the village and put in a stock of decent food. I might get a small ham - the boys would like that. Goodness - this is going to be fun!’
Julian came to the door to see what she was doing. When he saw her happy, serious face, he chuckled. ‘Acting “mother” to us, as usual?’ he said. ‘Deciding who’s going to sleep where, and which of us is to do the shopping, and which the washing-up? Dear old Anne - what should we do without you when we go off on our own?’
‘I love it,’ said Anne, happily. ‘Julian, we need another rug or two, and a pillow, and some food. And...’
‘Well, we’ll have to go back home and collect a few clothes and other things,’ said Julian. ‘We can shop on the way back, and get whatever we want. I wonder if that woman that Mrs Layman spoke about will be coming in to help?’
‘Well - Wilfrid said he sent her off,’ said Anne. ‘And I think perhaps as the cottage is so small, it might be better if we managed it ourselves. I think I could do a bit of cooking on that oil-stove in the corner - and anyway we can pretty well live on cold stuff, you know - ham and salad and potted meat and fruit. It would be easy enough for any of us to pop down to the village on our bikes, to fetch anything we needed.’
‘Listen!’ said Julian, cocking his head to one side. ‘Is that somebody calling us?’
Yes - it was. When Julian went outside, he saw Mrs Layman at the gate that led on to the hillside where the cottage stood. He went over to her.
‘We LOVE the cottage!’ he said. ‘And if it’s all right, we’d like to move in today. We can easily pop home and bring back anything we want. It’s a glorious old place, isn’t it - and the view must be the finest anywhere!’
‘Well, that harbour is the second biggest stretch of water in the whole world,’ said Mrs Layman. ‘The only stretch that is any bigger, is Sydney Harbour - so you have something to feast your eyes on, Julian!’
‘My word, yes,’ said Julian. ‘It’s amazing - and so very blue! I only wish I could paint - but I can’t. At least - not very well!’
‘What about Wilfrid?’ said Mrs Layman, anxiously. ‘Is he behaving himself? He’s - well - he’s rather a dificult boy at times. And he can be very rude. He hasn’t any brothers to rub off his awkward corners, you see.’
‘Oh, don’t you worry about Wilfrid!’ said Julian, cheerfully. ‘He’ll have to toe the line, and do as he’s told. We all do our bit, when we’re away together. He’s a wonder with animals, isn’t he?’
‘Well - yes, I suppose he is!’ said Mrs Layman. ‘Though I can’t say I like pet snakes, or pet beetles, and owls that come and hoot down the chimney at night to find out if Wilfrid will go out and hoot back to them!’
Julian laughed. ‘We shan’t mind that,’ he said. ‘And he’s managed to get over what might have been our biggest difficulty - he has made friends with our dog, Timmy. In fact, he informed us that if Timmy stayed, we could all stay - but only if Timmy stayed!’
Mrs Layman laughed. ‘That’s so like Wilfrid,’ she said. ‘He’s an odd boy. Don’t stand any nonsense from him!’
‘We shan’t,’ said Julian, cheerfully. ‘I’m surprised he wants to stay on with us, actually. I should have thought he would rather go home, than be with a lot of strangers.’
‘He can’t go home,’ said Mrs Layman. ‘His sister has measles, and his mother doesn’t want Wilfrid to catch it. So you’ll have to put up with him, I fear.’
‘And he’ll have to put up with us!’ said Julian. ‘Thanks very much for letting us have the cottage, Mrs Layman. We’ll take great care of everything.’
‘I know you will,’ said the old lady. ‘Well, goodbye, Julian. Have a good time. I’ll get back to my car now. Give Wilfrid my love. I hope he doesn’t fill the cottage with animals of all kinds!’
‘We shan’t mind if he does!’ said Julian, and waited politely until Mrs Layman had disappeared, and he could hear the noise of a car starting up.
He went back to the cottage and stood outside, looking down at the amazing view. The harbour was full of boats, big and little. A steamer went busily along, making for a great seaside town far away on the other side.
Anne came to join Julian. ‘Glorious, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘We’re so very high up here that it seems as if we can see half the world at our feet. Is that an island in the middle of the harbour, Ju?’
‘Yes - and a well-wooded one too!’ said Julian. ‘I wonder what it’s called - and who lives there. I can’t see a single house there, can you?’
Dick called to Anne. ‘Anne! George and I are going to fetch our bikes and ride down to the village. Give us your shopping list, will you? Julian, is there anything special you want us to pack for you at home, and bring back, besides your night-things and a change of clothes?’
‘Yes - don’t go off yet!’ called Julian, hurrying into the cottage. ‘I’ve made a list somewhere. I think I’d better go with you. There will be food and other things to bring back - unless Mother would bring everything up by car this afternoon.’
‘Yes - that’s a good idea,’ said Dick. ‘We’ll go to Kirrin Cottage first and get George’s things - and then home to get ours. I’ll leave all the shopping with Mother, and all our luggage, so that she can pop up here in the car with it. She’ll love the view!’
‘I’ll stay behind and tidy up the cottage, and find out how the stove works,’ said Anne, happily. ‘I’ll have everything neat and tidy by the time Mother comes this afternoon, Dick. Oh, here’s Julian with the list. Why don’t you go off on your bike with George and Dick, Julian? I’ll be quite happy here, messing about.’
‘Yes, I’m going to,’ said Julian, putting his list into his pocket. ‘Look after yourself, Anne! We’ll take Timmy with us, to give him a run.’
Off went the three, Timmy loping behind, very glad of the run. Anne waited till they were out of sight, then went happily back to the cottage. She was almost there when she heard someone calling her. She turned and saw a fresh-faced woman waving.
‘I’m Sally!’ she called. ‘Do you want any help with the cooking and cleaning? Wilfrid told me not to come any more, but if you want me, I will.’
‘Oh, I think we can manage, Sally,’ said Anne. ‘There’s so many of us now, we can do all the jobs. Did you sleep here?’
‘Oh no, miss!’ said Sally, coming up. ‘I just came in to help, and then went back home. You tell me if you want me any time, and I’ll gladly come. Where’s that monkey of a Wilfrid? He spoke to me very rudely this morning, the young varmint. I’ll tell his grandmother of him - not that that’s much good! He just laughs at her! Don’t you stand any nonsense from him!’
‘I won’t,’ said Anne, smiling. ‘Where do you live, in case we do want you?’
‘Just the other side of the road, in the small wood there,’ said Sally. ‘You’ll see my tiny cottage when you go by the wood on your bikes.’
She disappeared up the hill and across the road there. Anne went back happily to her household tasks. She cleaned out the little larder, and then found a pail and went to the well. She hung the pail on the hook at the end of the rope, and then worked the old handle that let the pail down to the water, swinging on the rope. Splash! It was soon full, and Anne wound it up again. The water looked crystal clear, and was as cold as ice - but all the same Anne wondered if she ought to boil it!
Someone came quietly behind her - and jumped at her with a loud howl! Anne dropped the pail of water, and gave a scream. Then she saw it was Wilfrid, dancing round her, grinning.
‘Idiot!’ she said. ‘Now you just go and get me some more water.’
‘Where’s that big dog?’ demanded Wilfrid, looking all round. ‘I can’t see him. You can’t any of you stay here unless you have that dog. I like him. He’s a wonderful dog.’
‘He’s gone down to the village with the others,’ said Anne. ‘Now will you please pick up that pail and get more water?’
‘No, I won’t,’ said Wilfrid. ‘I’m not your servant! Get it yourself!’
‘Very well, I will. But I’ll tell George, who owns Timmy, how rude you are - and you may be quite sure that Timmy won’t be friends with you,’ said Anne, picking up the pail.
‘I’ll get the water, I’ll get the water!’ shouted Wilfrid, and snatched the pail. ‘Don’t you dare to tell George or Timmy tales of me. Don’t you dare!’
And off he went to the well and filled the pail. Well! What a time they were all going to have with such a very peculiar boy! Anne didn’t like him at all!


Chapter Five
WILFRID IS MOST ANNOYING - AND ANNE IS MOST SURPRISING!

Wilfrid brought back the pail to Anne, and dumped it down. ‘Like to see my pet beetles?’ he said.
‘No thank you,’ said Anne. ‘I don’t like beetles very much.’
‘Well, you ought to!’ said Wilfrid. ‘I’ve two very beautiful ones. You can hold them if you like. Their tiny feet feel very queer when they walk all over your hand.’
‘I don’t mind beetles, but I don’t WANT them walking over my hand,’ said poor Anne, who really was a bit afraid of what she called ‘creepy-crawly’ things. ‘Do get out of my way, Wilfrid. If you had any manners, you’d carry that pail indoors for me.’
‘I haven’t any manners,’ said Wilfrid. ‘Everybody tells me that. Anyway, I don’t want to carry your pail, if you don’t want to see my beetles.’
‘Oh go away!’ said Anne, exasperated, picking up the pail herself. Wilfrid went to a little thick bush and sat down by it. He put his face almost on the grass, and looked under the bush. Anne felt uncomfortable. Was he going to call his beetles out? She couldn’t help putting down her pail, and standing still to watch.
No beetles came out from under the bush - but something else did. A very large, awkward-looking toad came crawling out, and sat there, looking up at Wilfrid with the greatest friendliness. Anne was amazed. How did Wilfrid know the toad was there? And why in the world should it come out to see him? She stood and stared - and shivered, because she really did not like toads. ‘I know they have beautiful eyes, and are intelligent, and eat all kinds of harmful insects, but I just can’t go near one!’ she thought. ‘Oh goodness - Wilfrid’s tickling its back - and it’s scratching where he’s tickled it - just like we would!’
‘Come and say how do you do to my pet toad,’ called Wilfrid. ‘I’ll carry your pail for you then.’
Anne picked up her pail in a hurry, afraid that Wilfrid might whistle up a few snakes next. What a boy! How she wished the others would come back! Why, Wilfrid might own a boa constrictor - or have a small crocodile somewhere - or... but no, she was being silly! If only the others would come back!
To her horror the toad crawled right on to Wilfrid’s hand, and looked up at him out of its really beautiful eyes. That was too much for Anne. She fied into the cottage, spilling half the water as she went.
‘I wish I was like George,’ she thought. ‘She wouldn’t really mind that toad. I’m silly. I ought to try and like all creatures. Oh my goodness, look at that enormous spider in the corner of the sink! It’s sitting there, looking at me out of its eight eyes! Wilfrid, Wilfrid - PLEASE come and get this spider out of the sink for me!’
Wilfrid sauntered in, fortunately without the toad. He held his hand out to the spider and made a curious clicking, ticking noise. The spider perked up at once, waved two curious little antennae about, and crawled across the sink to Wilfrid’s hand. Anne shuddered. She simply couldn’t help it! She shut her eyes, and when she opened them, the spider had gone and so had Wilfrid.
‘I suppose he’s now teaching it to dance, or something!’ she thought, trying to make herself smile. ‘I can’t think how insects and animals and birds like him. I simply can’t bear him. If I were a rabbit or bird or beetle, I’d run miles away from him. What’s this curious attraction he has for creatures of all kinds?’
Wilfrid had completely disappeared, and Anne thankfully went on with her little jobs. ‘I’ll tidy up the loft where the boys will sleep,’ she thought. ‘I’ll wash this living-room floor. I’ll make a list of the things in the larder. I’ll clean that dirty window over there. I’ll... good gracious, what’s that noise?’
It was the sound of magpies chattering noisily - a harsh but pleasant noise. Anne peered out of the little cottage window. Well, what a sight! There stood Wilfrid in front of the window, a magpie on each outstretched hand - and one on the top of his head! It stood there, chattering loudly, and then turned round and round, getting its feet mixed up in the boy’s thick hair.
‘Come out here and I’ll tell one of my magpies to sit on your head too!’ shouted Wilfrid. ‘It’s such a nice feeling. Or would you like a young rabbit to cuddle? I can call one for you with my little pipe!’
‘I don’t want a magpie on my head,’ said Anne, desperately. ‘For goodness sake get a nice little baby rabbit. I’d like that.’
Wilfrid jerked the magpies off his hands and shook his head violently so that the third one flew up, squawking cheerfully. He then sat down and pulled out his queer little whistle-pipe, as Anne called it. She watched, fascinated, as the strange little dirgelike tune came to her ears. She found her feet walking to the door. Good gracious - could there be some peculiar kind of magic in that pipe that made her go to Wilfrid, just as the other creatures did?
She stopped at the door, just as a baby rabbit came lollopping round a tall clump of grass. It was the funniest, roundest, dearest little thing, with a tiny bobtail and big ears.
It went straight to Wilfrid and nestled against him. The boy stroked it and murmured to it. Then he called to Anne softly.
‘Well - here’s the baby rabbit you asked for. Like to come and stroke it?’
Anne went softly over the grass, expecting the rabbit to bolt at once. Wilfrid continued to fondle it, and the little thing looked at him with big, unwinking eyes. Anne bent down to stroke it - but immediately it leapt in fright and fled into the grass.
‘Oh dear - why did it do that?’ said Anne, disappointed. ‘It was quite all right with you! Wilfrid, how do you get all these creatures to come to you?’
‘Shan’t tell you,’ said Wilfrid, getting up. ‘Is there anything to eat in the cottage? I’m hungry.’
He pushed Anne aside and went into the cottage. He opened the larder door, and took down a tin. There was a cake inside and he cut off a huge piece. He didn’t offer Anne any.
‘Couldn’t you have cut me a piece too?’ said Anne. ‘You really are a rude boy!’
‘I like being rude,’ said Wilfrid, munching his cake. ‘Especially to people who come to my cottage when I don’t want them.’
‘Oh don’t be so silly!’ said Anne, exasperated. ‘It isn’t your cottage - it belongs to your grandmother. She told us so. Anyway, you said we could stay if Timmy stayed too.’
‘I’ll soon make Timmy my dog,’ said Wilfrid, taking another bite. ‘You’ll see! Soon he won’t want that girl George any more - and he’ll follow at my heels all day and night. You’ll see!’
Anne laughed scornfully. Timmy following at this boy’s heels? That could never happen! Timmy loved George with all his doggy heart. He would never desert her for Wilfrid no matter how much he whistled on pipes, or put on his special croony voice. Anne was absolutely certain of that!
‘If you laugh at me, I’ll call up my grass snake and my adder!’ said Wilfrid, fiercely. ‘Then you’ll run for miles!’
‘Oh no I won’t!’ said Anne, hurrying into the cottage. ‘Just watch yourself run!’
She picked up the pail of water, went out with it, and threw it all over the astonished Wilfrid! Somebody else was most astonished too - and that was Julian, who had arrived back before the others, anxious not to leave Anne alone in the cottage for too long.
He came just in time to see Anne drenching Wilfrid, and stared in the utmost amazement. Anne behaving like that? Anne looking really fierce - quiet, peaceful Anne! What in the world had happened?
‘Anne!’ he called. ‘What’s the matter? What’s Wilfrid been doing?’
‘Oh - Julian!’ said Anne, glad to see him, but horrified that he had come just then. Wilfrid was drenched from head to foot. He stood there, gasping, taken-aback, bewildered. Why, Anne had seemed such a quiet, frightened little thing - scared even of a spider!
‘That girl!’ said Wilfrid, half-choking, shaking the water off himself. ‘That bad, wicked girl! She’s like a tiger! She sprang at me, and threw the water all over me! I won’t let her stay in my cottage!’
The boy was so angry, so wet, so taken-aback, that Julian had to laugh! He roared in delight, and clapped Anne on the back. ‘The mouse has turned into a tiger! Well, you said you might one day, Anne - and you haven’t lost much time! Let me see if you’ve grown claws!’
He took Anne’s hands and pretended to examine her nails. Anne was half-laughing, half-crying now, and pulled her hand away. ‘Oh Julian! I shouldn’t have soaked Wilfrid - but he was SO IRRITATING I lost my temper, and...’
‘All right, all right - it’s quite a good thing to do sometimes,’ said Julian. ‘And I bet young Wilfrid deserved all he got. I only hope the water was icy cold! Have you a change of clothes here, Wilfrid? Go and get into them, then.’
The boy stood there, dripping wet, and made no effort to obey. Julian spoke again. ‘You heard what I said, Wilfrid. Jump to it! Go and change!’
The boy looked so wet and miserable that Anne felt suddenly sorry for what she had done. She ran to him and felt his wet shoulders. ‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ she said. ‘I truly am. I don’t know why I turned into a tiger so suddenly!’
Wilfrid gave a little half-laugh, half-sob. ‘I’m sorry too,’ he mumbled. ‘You’re nice - and your nose is like that baby rabbit’s - it’s - it’s a bit woffly!’
He ran into the cottage and slammed the door. ‘Let him be for a while,’ said Julian, seeing that Anne made a move to go after him. ‘This will do him good. Nothing like having a pail of cold water flung over you to make you see things as they really are! He was really touched when you said you were sorry. He’s probably never apologized to anyone in his life!’
‘Is my nose like a rabbit’s?’ said Anne, worried.
‘Well, yes - just a bit,’ said Julian, giving his sister an affectionate pat. ‘But a rabbit’s nose is very nice, you know - very nice indeed. I don’t think you’ll have much trouble with Wilfrid after this little episode. He didn’t know that you had the heart of a tiger, as well as a nose like a rabbit’s!’
Wilfrid came out of the cottage in about ten minutes, dressed in dry clothes, carrying his wet ones in a bundle. ‘I’ll hang those out on the bushes for you, to dry in the sun,’ said Anne, and took them from him, smiling. He suddenly smiled back.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how they got so wet! Must have been pouring with rain!’
Julian chuckled and smacked him gently on the back. ‘Rain can do an awful lot of good at times!’ he said. ‘Well, Anne, we’ve brought you back a whole lot of goods for your larder. Here come the others. We’ll carry everything in for you - with Wilfrid’s help too!’


Chapter Six
LUCAS - AND HIS TALE

It was fun storing all the shopping away. Anne enjoyed it more than anyone, for she really was a most domesticated little person.
‘A real home-maker!’ said Dick, appreciatively, when he saw how neat and comfortable she had made the loft, where the three boys were to sleep. ‘Just about room for the three of us, plus all the baggage in the corner! And how good the larder looks!’
Anne looked at her well-stored larder, and smiled. Now she could give her little ‘family’ really nice meals. All those tins! She read the names on them. ‘Fruit salad. Tinned pears. Tinned peaches. Sardines. Ham. Tongue.’ A new cake in that round tin, big enough to last for at least three days. Biscuits. Chocolate wafers - good old Julian - he knew how much she loved those - and George did, too!
Anne felt very happy, as she arranged all her goods. She no longer felt guilty at drenching poor Wilfrid. Indeed she couldn’t help feeling a little thrill when she remembered how she had suddenly turned into a tiger for a minute or two! It was fun to be a tiger for once. ‘I might even be one again, if the chance arose,’ thought Anne. ‘How surprised Wilfrid was - and Julian too. Oh dear - poor Wilfrid. Still, he’s much nicer now.’
And indeed he was! He was most polite to both the girls, and, as Dick said, he didn’t ‘throw his weight’ about nearly so much. They all settled down very well together in the little cottage.
They had most of their meals out-of-doors, sitting on the warm grass. It was rather a squeeze indoors, for the cottage really was very small. Anne enjoyed herself preparing the meals, with sometimes a little help from George - and the boys carried everything out. Wilfrid did his share, and was pleased when he had a clap on the back from Julian.
It was glorious sitting out in the sun, high up on their hill. They could look down on the harbour, watch the yachts and the busy little boats, and enjoy the wonderful views all round.
George was very curious about the island that lay in the middle of the harbour. ‘What’s it called?’ she asked Wilfrid. But he didn’t know. He did know, however, that there was a queer story about it. ‘It belonged to a lonely old man,’ he said. ‘He lived in a big house in the very middle of the wood. The island was given to his family by a king - James the Second, I think. This old man was the very very last one of his family. People kept wanting to buy his island, and he had some kind of watchmen to keep people from landing on it. These watchmen were pretty fierce - they had guns.’
‘Gosh - did they shoot people who tried to land, then?’ asked Dick.
‘Well - they shot just to frighten them off, not to hurt them, I suppose,’ said Wilfrid. ‘Anyway, a lot of sightseers had an awful fright when they tried to land. BANG-BANG! Shooting all round them! My granny told me that someone she knew, who had a lot of money, wanted to buy part of the island - and he had his hat shot right off when his boat tried to land!’
‘Is there anyone there now?’ asked Julian. ‘I suppose the old fellow is dead? Has he a son or anyone to follow him?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Wilfrid. ‘But I don’t know an awful lot about it. I tell you who does, though - one of the groundsmen on the golf-course, called Lucas. He was once one of the watchmen who kept visitors away from the island.’
‘It might be rather interesting to talk to him,’ said Dick. ‘I’d rather like to walk over the golf-course, too. My father plays a good game of golf, and I know something about it.’
‘Well, let’s go now,’ said George. ‘Timmy is longing for a good long walk, even though he ran all the way down to the village and back today! Walk, Timmy? Walk?’
‘Woof-woof,’ said Timmy, and leapt up at once.
Walk? Of course he was ready for a walk! He leapt all round George, pretending to pounce at her feet. Wilfrid tried to catch hold of him, but couldn’t. ‘I wish you were my dog,’ he told Timmy. ‘I’d never let you out of my sight.’
Timmy ran up to him then, and gave him a loving lick. It was astonishing how he seemed to like Wilfrid. Nobody could understand it. As George said, ‘Timmy is usually so particular about making friends! Still, Wilfrid is nicer than he was!’
The Five, with Wilfrid too, went up the hill, crossed over the road that ran along the top, and climbed over a stile. They found themselves on one of the fairways of the golf-course, not far from a green, in which stood a pole with a bright red flag waving at the top.
Wilfrid knew very little about the game of golf, but the others had watched their parents play many a time. ‘Look out - someone’s going to pitch his ball on this green,’ said Julian, and they stood by the hedge to watch the man play his ball. He struck it beautifully with his club, and the ball rose, and fell right on to the green. It rolled to within about a foot of the hole in which the flag-pole stood.
Timmy ran forward a few steps, as he always did when a ball rolled near him. Then he remembered that this was golf, and he must never, never touch a ball on the fairway or on the green.
The players passed by, and went on with their game. Then they disappeared, to play off another tee.
‘Well, let’s see if we can find Lucas now,’ said Wilfrid, crossing the fairway to where he could get a good look over the course. ‘You’ll like him. There’s not much he doesn’t know about the animals and birds here. I think he’s a wonderful man!’
Wilfrid stood on the slope of a hill and looked all round. ‘There he is!’ he said, pointing to where a man was trimming up a ditch. ‘See? Down there. He’s using his bill-hook to make things tidy.’
They went down the hill towards the ditch at the bottom. ‘I bet there’s an awful lot of balls in that ditch,’ said Wilfrid. ‘Hey, Lucas! How are you?’
‘Afternoon, young sir,’ said the groundsman, turning towards them. His face was as brown as a well-ripened nut, and his arms and shoulders were even browner. He wore no shirt or vest, and his dark, deep-set eyes twinkled as they took in the five children and the dog.
He held out a brown hand to Timmy, who licked it gravely, wagging his tail. Then Timmy smelt Lucas all over and finally lay down with his head on the man’s feet.
‘Ha!’ said Lucas to Timmy, and gave a loud, hearty laugh. ‘Think I’m a-going to stand here all afternoon, do you? Well, I aren’t. I got work to do, ole dog, so git up! You’re a right good-un, you are, a-laying on my foot, so’s I can’t move a step! Want me to stop and have a rest, don’t you?’
‘Lucas, we came to ask you something,’ said Wilfrid. ‘About the island in the harbour. What’s its name - and does anyone live there now?’
‘We can see it from that little cottage almost at the top of the hill on the other side of the road,’ said Dick. ‘It looks awfully quiet and lonely.’
‘And so it is,’ said Lucas, sitting down on the bank of the ditch. Timmy at once sat up beside him, sniffing him with pleasure. He put his arm round the dog, and began to talk, his bright eyes going from one to other of the children. He was so friendly, and so completely natural that the children felt he was an old, old friend. They sat down too, sniffing the smell of the gorse bushes nearby. ‘They smell like coconut,’ thought Anne. ‘Yes - just like coconut!’
‘Well, now,’ said Lucas, ‘that island’s always been a mystery-place. It’s called Wailing Island by some folks because the wind makes a right queer wailing noise round some of its high cliffs. And others call it Whispering Island because it’s full of trees that whisper in the strong winds that always blow across it. But most of us call it Keep-Away Island - and that’s the best name of all, for there’s never been any welcome there, what with the dark cliffs, the cruel rocks, and the dense woods.’
Lucas paused, and looked at the listening faces around him. He was a born story-teller, and knew it. How often Wilfrid had listened to his tales of the birds and animals he met during his work on the course! Lucas was one of the few people that the boy admired and loved.
‘Do go on, Lucas!’ said Wilfrid, touching the man’s bare, warm arm. ‘Tell us about the rich old man who hated everyone, and bought the island years ago.’
‘I’m telling the story my own way,’ said Lucas, with great dignity. ‘You sit patient now, or I’ll start my ditching again. Sit like this dog, see - he don’t even twitch a muscle, good dog that he is. Well now, about this rich old man. He was so afraid of being robbed that he bought that lonely island. He built himself a great castle right in the middle of the thick woods. Cut down about a hundred trees, to make room for it, so the story goes, and brought every single stick and stone from the mainland. Did you see the old quarry on this here golf-course, as you came along to me?’
‘Yes, we did,’ said Julian, remembering. ‘I felt sorry for anyone who sent a golf-ball there!’
‘Well, young sir, out of that quarry came the great stones that the old man used for his castle,’ said Lucas. ‘’Tis said that big, Hat-bottomed boats had to be made to ferry the stones across to the island - and to this day the road through this golf-course is the one made by horses dragging the great stones down to the water’s-edge.’
‘Were you alive then?’ said Wilfrid.
‘Bless you, boy, no, of course not,’ said Lucas, with a great chuckle of a laugh. ‘Long afore my time, that was. Well, the stone house - or castle - whatever you like to call it - was built. And the old man brought to it all kinds of treasures - beautiful statues, some of gold, it was said, but that I disbelieve. Ah, many’s the queer tale I’ve heard of what that rich old man took over to Whispering Island - a great bed made of pure gold, and set with precious stones - a necklace of rubies as big as pigeons’ eggs - a wonderful sword with a jewelled handle worth a king’s fortune - and other things I disremember.’
He paused and looked round. Julian asked him a quick question. ‘What happened to all these things?’
‘Well now, he fell foul of the king of the land, and one morning what did he see landing on the shores of his island but ships of all kinds,’ said Lucas, enjoying the rapt attention of his audience. ‘A lot of them were sunk by the wicked rocks but enough men were left to storm the queer stone castle in the wood, and they killed the old man and all his servants.’
‘Did they find the treasures the old fellow had collected?’ asked Dick.
‘Never a one!’ said Lucas. ‘Never a one. Some say it was all a tale - the old man never did bring any wonders there - and some say they’re still there, on Whispering Island. Meself, I think it’s all a yarn - but a good yarn at that!’
‘Who owns the island now?’ asked Dick.
‘Well, an old fellow and his wife went to live there-maybe they paid rent to the Crown for it, maybe they bought it - but they didn’t care for anything except for the birds and the animals there,’ said Lucas, picking up his curved bill-hook again, and hacking lightly at some briars. ‘They wouldn’t allow nobody there, and it was they who kept the gamekeepers with guns to frighten away sightseers. They wanted peace and quiet for themselves, and for all the wildlife on the island - and a fine idea too. Many a time when I was there with the other keepers - three of us there were - many a time I’ve had rabbits gambolling over my feet, and snakes gliding by me - and the birds as tame as canaries.’
‘I’d love to go there,’ said Wilfrid, his eyes shining. ‘I’d have a good time with all the wild creatures! Can anyone go there now?’
‘No,’ said Lucas, getting up. ‘Not a soul has lived in the old stone castle since the old man and his wife fell ill and died. The place is empty. The island belongs to a great-nephew of the old couple now, but he never goes there. Just keeps a couple of men on the island to frighten off visitors - pretty fierce they are, so I’ve been told. Well, there you are, that’s the story of Whispering Island - not very pleasant - a bit grim and ugly. It belongs to the birds and the beasts now, and good luck to them!’
‘Thank you for telling us the story,’ said Anne, and the old countryman smiled down at her, his eyes wrinkling, and his brown hand patting her cheek.
‘I’ll be off to my hedging and ditching again,’ he said, ‘and I’ll feel the sun warm on my bare back, and hear the birds a-singing to me from the bushes. That’s happiness enough for anyone - and pity it is that more folks don’t know it!’