"Blyton, Enid - Famous Five 19 - Five Go to Demon's Rock" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blyton Enid)

‘Sorry, Timmy!’ she said. ‘That old man told such an interesting story that I quite forgot you were longing for a walk. We’ll go for one now.’
‘Let’s call in at the tobacconist’s first, shall we?’ said Julian. ‘That old chap deserves an extra smoke for his tale. Goodness knows how much was true - but he certainly told it well!’
‘Of course it was true!’ said George. ‘Why ever should he tell lies?’
‘Well - he might have to get extra tobacco, you know!’ said Julian, smiling. ‘I don’t blame him! It’s a jolly good story - but please don’t think there’s any treasure still hidden somewhere, George. It’s no use believing that.’
‘Well, I do believe it!’ said George, defiantly. ‘I think he was telling the truth, tobacco or no tobacco. Don’t you, Tinker?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Tinker. ‘You wait till you see the caves round about here! Hoo - there might be any amount of treasure there, and no one would ever know! I did hunt round a bit myself - but those caves are scary, and when I coughed once, my cough came echoing back to me a hundred times and I was so scared I ran for my life - and fell splash into a pool!’
Everyone laughed. ‘Let’s buck up and do our shopping,’ said Dick. ‘And then what about going for a good long walk?’
‘Well, I don’t want to carry eggs and bread and milk for miles,’ said George. ‘I say a walk first - and then we’ll come back, have ice-creams, do our shopping - and go back to the light-house.’
‘Right!’ said Julian. ‘Come on, Timmy. We’re off for a WALK - a WALK! Ha, that’s the word to set your tail wagging, isn’t it? Look at it Mischief. Don’t you wish you could wag your tail like that!’


Chapter Thirteen

A PLEASANT MORNING - AND A SHOCK!

Where shall we go for our walk?’ said George, as they wandered through the village. ‘Oh look - there’s a tiny little shop with Tom the Tobacconist written over the door. Let’s get the tobacco while we remember.’
So in went Julian, and rapped on the counter. A very small man appeared like a hob-goblin out of a dark corner.
‘I want some tobacco for Jeremiah Boogie, please,’ said Julian. ‘I think you know the kind he wants.’
‘I do that!’ said Tom, scrabbling about on a shelf. ‘The amount that old Jeremiah has smoked since I’ve been here would keep a bonfire going for years. There you are, young sir!’
‘He tells a fine story,’ said Julian, putting down the money for the tobacco.
Tom laughed. ‘He’s been going on about Bart and Nosey and all them old folk, I suppose,’ he said. ‘He’s a queer one, is old Jeremiah. Never forgets a thing, even if it happened eighty or more years ago! Never forgives, neither. There’s two folk in this village that he spits at when he passes by them. Naughty old man, he is.’
‘What have they done to earn his spite?’ asked Dick, in surprise.
‘Well, they be some kin of his old enemy, One-Ear Bill,’ said Tom. ‘I reckon he told you about him all right, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, he did,’ said Julian. ‘But all that business about the wrecking happened years and years ago! Surely Jeremiah doesn’t visit his anger on any descendants of the wicked One Ear Bill!’
‘Oh, but he do!’ said Tom. ‘You see, these two fellows he spits at have the job of showing people round the caves here - especially the Wreckers’ Cave - and I reckon old Jeremiah still broods about One-Ear’s hidden treasure, and is scared in case these two chaps ever find it. Find it! It’s nigh on seventy years since all that happened. Why, that light-house yonder was built over sixty years ago - after that wrecking business went on. No one will come across any treasure now!’
‘But surely they might,’ said George. ‘It depends where it was hidden. If it was in some dry, watertight place, it should still be all right. After all, gold and silver don’t decay, do they? Wherever it was hidden, it must still be there!’
‘That’s what all you visitors say!’ said Tom. ‘And that’s what Ebenezer and Jacob say - they’re the two chaps who show people round the caves. But they only say that to make a bit of a thrill for the visitors, you know. Same as old Jeremiah does. Takes them in properly! Well - you believe what you like, youngsters - but you won’t find any treasure! I reckon the sea took that years ago! Good-day to you! I’ll give Jeremiah the baccy when he calls in.’
‘Well,’ said Dick, as soon as they were outside the shop, ‘this is all very interesting! I think probably old Tom’s right. The reason why the treasure was never found is because it was probably hidden where the sea managed to get at it - in some water-hole, or somewhere like that.’
‘I still believe it’s somewhere safe,’ said George. ‘So does Tinker.’
‘Oh well... I should think probably Timmy believes it as well,’ said Dick. ‘He has a child-like mind too!’
Dick at once received a hard punch on the back from George. He laughed. ‘All right! We’ll give you a chance to hunt for the treasure, won’t we, Ju? We’ll visit the Wreckers’ Cave as soon as we can. Let’s go up on the cliffs for our walk, and see if we can spot where the first old lamp used to be, that warned ships to swing out to sea, and avoid Demon’s Rocks.’
It was a lovely walk along the cliffs. The celandines and tiny dog violets were out, and clumps of pale yellow primroses were everywhere. The breeze blew strongly, and Mischief held tightly to Tinker’s right ear, afraid of' being blown off his shoulder. Timmy enjoyed himself thoroughly, bounding along, tail flourishing happily, sniffing at everything.
They came to the flag-post set high on the cliff, its great red flag waving vigorously in the breeze. A notice-board was beside it. George read it.
‘This flag warns ships off Demon’s Rocks by day. By night the great light-house at High Cliffs, farther along the coast, gives warning. In the old days a lamp shone from this spot to give the ships warning, and later a small light-house was built out on Demon’s Rocks. It is still in existence, but is no longer in use.’
‘Ha - they’re wrong there!’ said Tinker, pointing to the last sentence. ‘We’re using it! I’ll alter the notice!’ and Tinker actually took a pencil to scratch out the last six words!
Julian took it from him. ‘Don’t be an ass. You can’t mess about with public notices. Don’t say you’re one of the fatheads who like to scribble all over the place!’
Tinker held out his hand for the pencil. ‘All right. It was just that I thought it wanted correcting. I’m not the kind of idiot who scribbles on walls or public notices.’
‘Right,’ said Julian. ‘Tinker, can we see Demon’s Rocks - the rocks themselves, I mean, with our lighthouse - from these cliffs.’
‘No,’ said Tinker. ‘The cliff swings away to the left, look, and the Demon’s Rocks are away right round the corner, if you see what I mean - so no ship should follow the coastline here, but should keep well out at sea, or it’d be on the rocks. You can quite well see that if the wreckers took the lamp from its warning-place here, and put it much farther back, along the way we’ve come, the ships would swing too far inland, and find themselves wrecked.’
‘I think I should have hated old One-Ear Bill as much as old Jeremiah does,’ said George, imagining the beautiful ships being ground to pieces all those years ago - just because of a greedy man who liked the pickings from wrecks!
‘Well, we’d better go back,’ said Julian, looking at his watch. ‘We’ve some shopping to do, remember! Better buck up too - it looks like rain all of a sudden!’
He was right. It was pouring by the time they reached the village! They crowded into a little shop that said ‘Morning Coffee’ and ordered a cup each, and buns. The buns were so nice that they bought some to take back to the light-house with them. Then Anne remembered post-cards.
‘We must buy some,’ she said, ‘and send one off today. Better get some now, and write one and post it while we’re here.’
Dick slipped out of the coffee-shop and returned with a packet of very gaudily coloured cards. ‘Some of them show the light-house,’ he said. ‘We’ll send one of those - and you choose a card to send to your father too, Tinker.’
‘It would be a waste,’ said Tinker. ‘He wouldn’t even bother to read it.’
‘Well, send one to your mother,’ said Anne.
‘I haven’t one,’ said Tinker. ‘She’s dead. She died when I was born. That’s why my father and I always go about together.’
‘I’m very, very sorry, Tinker,’ said Anne, shocked. The others were sorry too. No wonder Tinker hadn’t very good manners, and was all on his own. No mother to teach him anything! Poor Tinker! Anne felt as if she wanted to buy him every bun in the shop!
‘Have another bun, Tinker,’ she said. ‘Or an ice-cream. I’ll pay. Mischief can have one too.’
‘We’re all going to have another bun each, and an ice-cream,’ said Julian. ‘Timmy and Mischief too. Then we’ll do our shopping and go home - home to the light-house. That sounds grand, doesn’t it!’