Somebody Has a Nightmare; Aunt Effie Thinks She’s Been Poisoned; Captain Flash and His One-Woman Submarine; We Cover our Tracks; and We Smell the Ozone of the Thames.
“Aaargh! The crocodile’s coming to eat me! Help! The shark’s waiting under my hammock! Eeek!”
We woke and shouted, “Casey-Lizzie-Jared-Jess? What’s wrong? Who screamed? Who’s crying?” Peter lit a lantern. “Are the little ones all right? It’s the middle of the night. They must be having nightmares!”
Somebody was having a nightmare all right. She had twisted her hammock around and around till it looked like a cocoon, and she could hardly breathe. Peter unwound her. “Get away!” she screamed at him. “I know you’re going to eat me!” She waved her arms, kicked, and the hammock spun and cocooned itself around her again.
“When you hatch out, you might be a butterfly,” Alwyn told Daisy.
“I’d like a nice cup of camomile tea,” she whimpered when Peter unwound her again. “To help me go to sleep.”
We watched Peter go to the galley. We knew he didn’t like the smell of camomile. He came back holding a cup of tea with one hand and his nose with the other. “Here you are, Daisy!”
“Daisy are you here.”
We all stuck our heads under the blankets and giggled at Alwyn’s voice.
“Oh, that’s lovely,” said Daisy.
“Lovely that’s oh!”
We giggled again – except for the little ones who slept through all the noise.
We got up early next morning, holystoned the deck white, polished the brass gold, rubbed the mahogany wheel dark red, and gave Aunt Effie breakfast in her hammock.
“Are we going to go search for the island that sank?” we asked as she gulped her tea and crunched her toast and marmalade.
“We’ll see,” said Aunt Effie. “Isn’t anyone going to get me another cup of tea?”
“I’ll get it!” we all said.
“Some more toast would be all right, too.”
“More toast!”
We gave Aunt Effie her second cup of tea. She tasted it and – Crash! – flung it on the deck. “Are you trying to poison me?” Aunt Effie spat and spat again. Somebody had given her a cup of Daisy’s camomile tea by mistake. “That muck,” said Aunt Effie, “stinks like mouldy hay!”
“Here’s a proper cup of tea,” said Marie. “The map you left on the Rotorua Express, Aunt Effie, was that the map of the island that sank?”
Aunt Effie shook her head.
“What about the ones you dropped on the floor of the Auckland Railway Station, and Greasy Mick’s, and the one you showed the wharfinger at the Powder Wharf?”
Aunt Effie shook her head.
“What about the ones you said are rolled up inside your umbrella?”
“Aunt Effie grinned. “They’re all just maps I drew to fool Rangi, Sam, and Captain Flash.”
“What about the real map?” we all asked.
“It was in the story I told you.”
“In the story?”
“Didn’t any of you listen?”
“I listened!” said Lizzie. “Wicked Nancy drew a map of the treasure island with the latitude and longitude and hid it inside her hollow peg-leg!”
“Clever girl, Lizzie!” said Aunt Effie.
“But her peg-leg’s stuck in the deck of the Evil Fancy!” the rest of us said.
“That’s right. Where the pirate ship lies on the bottom of the sea, amongst all the treasure.”
“So we can’t find the map of the island that sank till we find the island that sank, so we can find the hollow peg-leg with the map in it that will show us how to find the island that sank!” said Jazz.
“It’s hopeless.” Isaac shook his head.
“No it’s not!” Aunt Effie smiled.
“Not it’s no,” repeated Alwyn.
“You all know the most important clue.” Aunt Effie looked around us. “It was in the story.”
“Story the in was it.”
“Shut up, Alwyn!” said Daisy.
“The tree,” said Aunt Effie. “You don’t see many trees sticking out of the water.”
“But that could be anywhere!”
Aunt Effie lowered her voice. “Not just anywhere,” she said. “Can you all keep a secret?”
“Course we can!” we whispered, as something creaked above our heads.
“Before she died,” whispered Aunt Effie, “I met a wicked old woman with only one eye, one hand, and one leg. She told me the story of the island that sank.” There was another creak above our heads.
“That old woman must have been Wicked Nancy!” said Daisy. She looked back at our faces and said in her most superior voice, “I would have thought it obvious.”
“Before she died,” whispered Aunt Effie, “the one-eyed, one-handed, one-legged wicked old woman told me to look for the tree sticking out of the water somewhere to the north of …” We leaned further forward till our ears were almost touching Aunt Effie’s lips. We listened and, above our heads, something creaked again.
“… north of,” said Aunt Effie, “… north of Fiji!”
There was a crash of glass, and a captain of the Royal Navy fell shrieking through the skylight. We only had time to notice he had a very pointed head before he sprang to his feet. “Hands up!” He threatened us with a huge Navy pistol, leapt out the door, slammed it behind him, and turned the key.
By the time we’d broken off all the bits of jagged glass to make it safe, and pushed the little ones up through the skylight, and by the time they’d run downstairs and turned the key in the lock, and we’d run on deck and looked around, the Royal Navy captain had disappeared.
“It was Captain Flash!” said Aunt Effie. “I’d know his head anywhere.”
“Look!” Peter pointed. Something ripped through the water towards the Margery Daw.
“A shark’s fin!” screamed Daisy. “The shark with false teeth is coming to get me!”
“It’s not a fin,” said Marie. “It’s a stick.”
“Bent at the top,” said Ann. “Like a walking stick!”
“A periscope!” said Peter.
The periscope turned around, pointed at us, and we saw Captain Flash’s face upside-down, looking at us from inside a submarine.
The little ones all bent over and looked between their legs at Captain Flash, to make him the right way up. Alwyn stuck his fingers in the corners of his eyes and mouth and poked out his tongue, and we saw the upside-down Captain Flash poke out his tongue and waggle his ears back at Alwyn.
“Put the wheel hard down!” Aunt Effie shouted at Caligula. “Bring the jib sheets across! Back the staysail!”
As the Margery Daw heaved to, a line of bubbles ran towards us from the submarine. We leaned over the bows and saw the bubbles go past, just missing us.
“That was a torpedo!” cried Aunt Effie. “Now he thinks he knows where to find the treasure, he wants to get rid of us. I’ll show him!”
“There’s another!” yelled Ann from up in the crow’s-nest. She pointed at a second line of bubbles. “It’s going to hit us fair amidships!”
“Keep pointing at it, Daisy-Mabel-Johnny-Flossie-Lynda-Stan-Howard-Marge-Stuart-Peter-Marie-Colleen-Alwyn-Bryce-Jack-Ann-Jazz-Beck-Jane-Isaac-David-Victor-Casey-Lizzie-Jared-Jess!” Aunt Effie took the wheel and turned our stern towards the line of bubbles.
“Let out the mainsheet! Bring those jib sheets across again, and the staysail!”
The wind was full astern, so the Margery Daw filled her sails and raced forward.
“The torpedo’s catching up!” Ann cried. Something like a long, thin, silver cigar came after us through the clear water. The propeller spun on its other end.
Jane was dressing the little ones in life-jackets. Daisy fell on her knees and, in a robust voice she sang the hymn: “For Those in Peril on the Sea.”
Aunt Effie gave the wheel back to Caligula. “Hold her on that course! Peter-Marie-Colleen-Alwyn-Bryce-Jack – grab the boathook and lean over the side!”
Peter leaned over with the boathook. The torpedo was almost touching the rudder.
“See the nose?” said Jazz. “The detonator’s inside. Just one touch, and it’ll blow us all to kingdom come!” The Margery Daw sailed even faster, but the torpedo inched closer.
“Oh, hear us as we cry to thee, for those in peril on the sea!” bellowed Daisy.
“Daisy-Mabel-Johnny-Flossie-Lynda-Stan-Howard-Marge-Stuart-Peter-Marie-Colleen-Alwyn-Bryce-Jack-Ann-Jazz-Beck-Jane-Isaac-David-Victor-Casey-Lizzie-Jared-Jess! Hold my heels!” Aunt Effie hung on to Peter’s heels, and we hung on to hers.
“Just nudge it to port with the boathook. Not the nose! Back about a couple of feet, give it a shove there. Now another. Good! Tell Caligula-Nero-Brutus-Kaiser-Genghis-Boris to put the wheel down to starboard!”
“Put the wheel down to starboard!” we yelled at Caligula.
“Not too hard!”
“Not too hard!”
“Okay, give it another nudge. And another.” Aunt Effie looked up. “Tell Caligula-Nero-Brutus-Kaiser-Genghis-Boris to put the wheel down another spoke.”
As Peter turned the torpedo to port, Caligula turned the Margery Daw to starboard until we were both heading back the way we had come.
We pulled on Aunt Effie’s feet. She pulled on Peter’s, and they both came up on deck.
“Thanks, Caligula-Nero-Brutus-Kaiser-Genghis-Boris!” Aunt Effie took the wheel and brought the Margery Daw up into the wind. The sails fell empty, slapping and shivering.
Ahead of us, the submarine surfaced. Captain Flash popped out of the conning tower and danced on the deck, pointing and laughing. “Ha! Ha! Ha!” His pointy head shone in the sunlight. “I know where Wicked Nancy’s Island is! I’m off to get the treasure. You’d better get into your lifeboat and start rowing before the torpedo blows you up! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“How clearly his voice carries across half a mile of water!” said Aunt Effie. “It’s those good, clear English vowels, those crisp sharp English consonants they teach them in the Royal Navy!”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” It came clear across the water. Then a shriek. “Aaah!”
“He’s seen the torpedo coming for him,” said Peter.
Captain Flash pulled something out of the conning tower and blew into it. It got bigger and bigger.
“A rubber dinghy!” said Bryce.
“Blow faster!” called Ann.
Captain Flash saw the torpedo was very close and screamed.
“How a good English scream carries across the water,” said Aunt Effie.
Captain Flash jumped into the rubber dinghy and rowed so fast the oars whirled like propellers. The rubber dinghy spun in a circle, but the wind blew it away from the submarine.
Boom! A spout of water towered and collapsed. We sailed across the oil-smeared sea. The rubber dinghy bobbed upside down. Peter and Marie turned it up the right way, and Aunt Effie threw in a bag of dog biscuits, a breaker of water, and a piece of paper.
She fished out Captain Flash with the boathook, and dumped him in the rubber dinghy. “The course for Auckland’s on the paper. There’s just enough water and dog biscuits to get you back, if you start rowing at once. Up topsails!” Aunt Effie cried.
Captain Flash began to shout. “Bah! Foiled again, Euphem–”
“Call me that name!” she shouted over the top of his voice, “and I’ll drop a cannonball through the bottom of your rubber dinghy.”
Captain Flash sat and rowed fast towards Auckland.
“Won’t he just get another boat in Auckland and go looking for the treasure island? He knows it’s north of Fiji!” said Jane. “And he’s got the map!”
“Do you think I’m silly? Wicked Nancy’s island is nowhere near Fiji, but we’ll sail that way just to fool Captain Flash. I knew he was listening through the skylight. I saw the periscope of his submarine following us before we went to bed last night.”
“What about the others?” asked Lizzie.
“What others?”
“All the other sailors in the submarine. We blew them up!”
“There weren’t any other sailors,” Aunt Effie told her. “That was a one-woman submarine.” We all felt much better when she told us that.
“We got rid of the Reverend Samuel Missionary,” said Aunt Effie. “His bike will be so rusty with salt water, he won’t able to chase us for months. We got rid of Chief Rangi over the edge of the world. Getting back will keep him busy for months – if he isn’t dragged into the sun’s gravity. And now Captain Flash will row to Auckland, get another boat, and search north of Fiji. That’ll keep him busy for months. It’s time for us to cover our tracks.”
As Captain Flash disappeared over the horizon, and night fell, Aunt Effie took the wheel, put the Margery Daw about, and ran in towards the Coromandel Peninsula where bright lights reflected across the water. “They’re the lights from the hotels of Coromandel, all lit up,” said Aunt Effie. “The miners will be in town for Saturday night.”
We could hear the miners shouting, and women shrieking and laughing.
“Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!” said Daisy.
Music came across the water from a ship at anchor off Preece Point. An accordion played, and a man’s voice sang, “Come into the garden, Euphemia,” a popular song that year.
“Hmph!” said Aunt Effie and sent us all to bed without anything to eat. Next morning we were sailing south down the Coromandel coast, past Tapu and Waiomu.
“We must be going to Miranda after all,” Marie said. But Aunt Effie told her, “We’ve got to cover our tracks first.” She kept hugging the coast until the water turned muddy from the Waihou River. In the long evening light, we saw fishing boats lying on their sides on the mud flats, spindly-legged tea-tree jetties between khaki mangroves, brown fishing nets hanging to dry like lines of washing, and red roofs cuddled between green hills. The air smelled of fish and mud and sea.
“Smell the ozone!” said Aunt Effie. “I like the Thames!”