The Picts and the Martyrs by Arthur Ransome

Author:Arthur Ransome
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781446478936
Publisher: Random House UK
Published: 2011-05-31T04:00:00+00:00

“Hope your makin do. If owts wanting you can tell Jacky.

M. Braithwaite.”

“Look what she’s brought us,” said Dorothea.

There was hardly room for the lantern on the top of the packing case. There was a cardboard box with a dozen eggs in it, a blue paper bag of sugar, a basket of peas, a large loaf of brown bread, and two chops, ready cooked.

Dorothea sighed with relief. “I won’t have to cook the rabbit tonight,” she said. “No need with those chops. And we’d better not wait to do potatoes.”

“Let’s get supper over quick,” said Dick.

They lit the fire and made a hurried meal. All the time Dick was listening for footsteps, hoping to hear someone racing up the wood with Timothy’s message. Would it say “Come in the morning” or “Come in the afternoon”? Well, Scarab was ready now and he could start at any time. Pretty awful it would have been if Timothy had sent for him the day before. But no messenger came. After supper, Dick waited in the doorway, and Dorothea read about the cooking of rabbits by the light of the dancing flames. They made up their minds at last that the martyrs would hardly escape from Beckfoot before the morning. Tired after their long voyage, they made up the hammocks and went to bed, planning an early breakfast.

It must have been about midnight when the rain began. Dorothea was the first to hear a steady drip, drip somewhere close to her. Then she heard the pattering on the roof and then rain-drops that had come down the chimney hissing on the hot embers of the fire.

“Dick!”

“Yes.”

“Is it dripping on you?”

“I was sure it was going to rain,” said Dick with the happiness of the successful weather prophet.

“But is it dripping on you?”

Dick sat up in his hammock.

“No,” he said. “I can feel the drips if I stretch out far enough. There’ll be a puddle on the floor. Are you dry, too?”

“Yes,” said Dorothea. “Hadn’t we better put a saucepan under the drips?”

‘It’ll make more noise,” said Dick. “And the floor’s only earth. We can’t do anything now. I’ll drain it in the morning and mend the roof if there’s time. But look here, Dot, we ought to go to sleep. The rain won’t make any difference. We’ve got mackintoshes. We’ll be able to get to the houseboat just the same.”

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