"Blyton, Enid - Famous Five 12 - Five Go Down to The Sea" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blyton Enid)

‘Don’t be a baby, Timmy,’ said George. ‘It’s only a tunnel! Ju, haul him off me. It’s too hot to try and nurse a heavy dog like Timmy. Stop it, Timmy, I tell you it’s only a tunnel!’
The journey seemed very long. The carriage was so hot, and the train stopped at so many little out-of-the-way places, sometimes for ten minutes at a time. They had to change twice, and sit on sun-baked stations waiting for their next train to come along. Timmy panted loudly and hung his tongue out; George begged the porters for water at each changing-place.
They had their lunch with them, but somehow they weren’t hungry. They got dirtier and dirtier, and thirstier and thirstier, for they very quickly drank the orangeade they had brought with them.
‘Phew!’ said Julian, fanning himself with a magazine. ‘What wouldn’t I give for a bathe? Timmy, don’t pant all over me. You make me feel hotter still.’
‘What time do we get there?’ asked Anne.
‘Well, we have to get out at Polwilly Halt,’ said Julian. ‘That’s the nearest place to Tremannon Farm. We bike from there. With luck, we should be there by tea-time.’
‘We ought to have brought masses more to drink,’ said Dick. ‘I feel like a man who’s been lost in a sun-scorched desert for weeks.’
They were all extremely glad when they at last arrived at Polwilly Halt. At first they didn’t think it was a halt, but it was. It was nothing but a tiny wooden stage built beside the railway. The children sat and waited. They hadn’t even seen the little wooden stage or the small sign that said ‘Polwilly Halt’.
The sound of impatient feet came along the little platform. The guard’s perspiring face appeared at the window.
‘Well? Didn’t you want to get out here? You going to sit there all day?’
‘Gosh! Is this Polwilly?’ said Julian, leaping up. ‘Sorry. We didn’t know it was a Halt. We’ll be out in half a tick.’
The train started off almost before they had banged the door. They stood there on the funny little staging, all alone save for their four bicycles at the other end. The little Halt seemed lonely and lost, set in the midst of rolling fields and rounded hills. Not a building was in sight!
But not far off to the west George’s sharp eyes saw something lovely. She pulled Julian’s arm. ‘Look, the sea! Over there, between the hills, in the dip. Can’t you see it? I’m sure it’s the sea. What a heavenly blue.’
‘It’s always that gorgeous blue on the Cornish coast,’ said Dick. ‘Ah, I feel better when I see that. Come on, let’s get our bikes and find our way to Tremannon Farm. If I don’t get something to drink soon I shall certainly hang my tongue out, like Timmy.
They went to get their bikes. Dick felt his back tyre. It was a bit soft, but not too bad. He could easily pump it up again. ‘How far is it to Tremannon Farm?’ he asked.
Julian looked at his notes. ‘ “Get out at Polwilly Halt. Then bike four miles to Tremannon Farm, along narrow lanes. Tremannon Village is about one mile before you get to the farm.” Not too bad. We might get some lemonade, or even an ice-cream, in the village.’
‘Woof, woof,’ said Timmy, who knew the word ice-cream very well indeed.
‘Poor Tim!’ said Anne. ‘He’ll be so hot running beside our bikes. We’d better go slowly.’
‘Well, if anyone thinks I’m going to tear along, he can think again,’ said Dick. ‘I’ll go as slowly as you like, Anne!’
They set off with Timmy down a queer little lane, deep-set between high hedges. They went slowly for Timmy’s sake. He panted along valiantly. Good old Timmy! He would never give up as long as he was with the four children.
It was about five o’clock and a very lovely evening. They met nobody at all, not even a slow old farm cart. It was even too hot for the birds to sing. No wind blew. There seemed a curious silence and loneliness everywhere.
Julian looked back at the other three with a grin. ‘Adventure is in the air! I feel it. We’re all set for adventure! But no, we’ll turn our backs on it and say: “Away with you!” That’s agreed!’

Chapter Two

TREMANNON FARM

It certainly was a lovely ride to Tremannon Farm. Poppies blew by the wayside in hundreds, and honeysuckle threw its scent out from the hedges as they passed. The corn stood high in the fields, touched with gold already, and splashed with the scarlet of the poppies.
They came to Tremannon Village at last. It was really nothing but a winding street, set with a few shops and houses, and beyond that, straggling out, were other houses. Farther off, set in the hills, were a few farm-houses, their grey stone walls gleaming in the sun.
The four children found the general store and went in. ‘Any ice-cream?’ said Julian hopefully. But there was none. What a blow! There was orangeade and lemonade, however, quite cool through being kept down in the cellar of the store.
‘You be the folks that old Mrs Penruthlan be having in?’ said the village shopkeeper. ‘She do be expecting of you. Furriners, bain’t you?’
‘Well, not exactly,’ said Julian, remembering that to many Cornish folk anyone was a foreigner who did not belong to Cornwall. ‘My mother had a great-aunt who lived in Cornwall all her life. So we’re not exactly “furriners”, are we?’
‘You’re furriners all right,’ said the bent little shopkeeper, looking at Julian with bird-like eyes. ‘Your talk is furrin-like, too. Like that man Mrs Penruthlan had before. We reckoned he was mad, though he was harmless enough.’
‘Really?’ said Julian, pouring himself out a third lemonade. ‘Well, he was a scientist, and if you’re going to be a really good one you have to be a bit mad, you know. At least, so I’ve heard. Golly, this lemonade is good. Can I have another bottle, please?’
The old woman suddenly laughed, sounding just like an amused hen. ‘Well, well, Marty Penruthlan’s got a fine meal ready for you, but seems like you won’t be able to eat a thing, not with all that lemonade splashing about in your innards!’
‘Don’t say you can hear the splashing,’ said Julian earnestly. ‘Very bad manners, that! Furriners’ manners, I’m sure. Well, how much do we owe you? That was jolly good lemonade.’
He paid the bill and they all mounted their bicycles once more, having been given minute directions as to how to get to the farm. Timmy set off with them, feeling much refreshed, having drunk steadily for four minutes without stopping.
‘I should think you’ve had about as much water as would fill a horse-trough, Timmy,’ Julian told him. ‘My word, if this weather holds we’re going to look like Red Indians!’
It was an uphill ride to Tremannon Farm, but they got there at last. As they cycled through the open gates, a fusillade of barks greeted them, and four large dogs came flying to meet them. Timmy put up his hackles at once and growled warningly. He went completely stiff, and stood there glaring.
A woman came out behind the dogs, her face one large smile. ‘Now, Ben; now, Bouncer! Here, Nellie, here! Bad dog, Willy! It’s all right, children, that’s their way of saying “Welcome to Tremannon Farm!” ’
The dogs now stood in a ring round the four children, their tongues out, their tails wagging vigorously. They were lovely dogs, three collies and one small black Scottie. Timmy eyed them one by one. George had her hand on his collar, just in case he should feel foolhardy all of a sudden and imagine he could take on all four dogs single-handed.
But he didn’t. He behaved like a perfect gentleman! His tail wagged politely, and his hackles went down. The little Scottie ran up to him and sniffed his nose. Timmy sniffed back, his tail wagging more vigorously.
Then the three sheepdogs ran up, beautiful collies with plumy tails, and the children heaved sighs of relief to see that the farm dogs evidently were not going to regard Timmy as a ‘furriner’!
‘They’re all right now,’ said Mrs Penruthlan. ‘They’ve introduced themselves to one another. Now come along with me. You must be tired and dirty - and hungry and thirsty. I’ve high tea waiting for you.’
She didn’t talk in the Cornish way. She was pleased to see them and gave them a grand welcome. She took them upstairs to a bathroom, big but primitive. There was one tap only and that was for cold water. It ran very slowly indeed!
But it was really cold, and was lovely and soft to wash in. The tired children cleaned themselves and combed their hair.
They had two bedrooms between them, one for the girls and one for the boys. They were rather small, with little windows that gave a meagre amount of light, so that the rooms looked dark even in the bright evening sunshine.
They were bare little rooms, with two beds in each, one chair, one chest of drawers, one cupboard and two small rugs. Nothing else! But, oh! the views out of the windows!
Miles and miles of countryside, set with cornfields, pasture land, tall hedges and glimpses of winding lanes; heather was out on some of the hills, blazing purple in the sun; and, gleaming in the distance was the dark blue brilliance of the Cornish sea. Lovely!
‘We’ll bike to the sea as soon as we can,’ said Dick, trying to flatten the few hairs that would stick up straight on the top of his head. There are caves on this coast. We’ll explore them. I wonder if Mrs Penruthlan would give us picnic lunches so that we can go off for the day when we want to.’