Appleby's End by Michael Innes Read Free Book Online Page A

spoke as if from the heavens above. “My dear sir,” said the voice – which was a hoarse and melancholy one. “My dear sir, we owe you our apologies for this deplorable misadventure. And may I trust that my cousin is not wholly submerged?”
    Unbelievingly and with considerable physical agony, Appleby directed his gaze upwards. A great oak with wide spreading branches overhung the stream and the carriage, and perched in this was what appeared to be a vast bird with folded black wings and cypress-green under-plumage. “I was on the boot,” Luke Raven said. As his perch was precarious he spoke laboriously, but evidently feeling that courtesy required some adequate explanation of his predicament. “And I was swept off by this branch just before the carriage stuck. I should be obliged if you would order Heyhoe to take some appropriate action. Let him fetch ropes. Let him bring a ladder. Let him call Colonel Jolys’ keeper, or young Shrubsole, or the lads from Murcott’s farm.”
    â€œHeyhoe is lighting his pipe,” Appleby said.
    â€œI understand that Everard has no objection to Heyhoe smoking – when in the open air, and not actually on his box. But at the moment the recreation is altogether untimely. Let him mount Spot and bring assistance from Willow Farm. Let him rouse the road-mender at the end of Noblet’s Lane. Or the Sturrock family at Great Tew. Let him–” At this point Luke Raven’s admirable plans for calling out the surrounding lower orders were interrupted by a rending noise and a resounding splash.
    â€œWhatever’s that?” Judith’s voice came apprehensively from inside the carriage.
    â€œI’m afraid it’s Luke falling into the stream. He was up a tree.”
    â€œUp a tree?”
    â€œA most reliable-looking oak. But something went wrong. I’m watching him; I think he’s going to be all right. Yes, he’s wading now. And the bank’s quite easy. He’s ashore.”
    â€œWhich side?”
    â€œHeyhoe’s. He’s talking to Heyhoe. Heyhoe has produced a bottle. I think your cousin may be said to be upbraiding him.”
    â€œI should jolly well think so. Isn’t the water rising? It’s up to – to nearly my armpits.” For the first time Judith sounded really disturbed.
    â€œI think it is.” Appleby, though beginning to feel that the situation was not without positive danger, spoke cheerfully. “And these windows are unfortunately a bit on the small side. We must get a door open, and edge out one or two of these confounded sacks. Then we’ll be able to move; and perhaps they’ll serve as a sort of stepping-stones to the shallower water. Or we can get on the roof and wait till Heyhoe’s stirred to action. Here we go.” Appleby managed to wrench open a door; the current caught the bottom of it and flung it ajar; he made a big effort and pitched out first one and then another unwieldy sack. “And up you get.” He hauled Judith to her feet and then – rather more because he felt at odds with inanimate Nature than for any immediate need – he shoved out two further sacks. They stood up in the almost empty carriage with a sense of being kings of infinite space. “The potatoes won’t come to any harm, but about the cake for the cow I don’t at all know. And as for the books on reptiles and religion and resuscitation and all the other literae caninae –”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about.” Appleby had an impression that Judith, who must be soaked to the skin from the waist down, was settling her hat at a correct angle on her head. “Do we wade or swim?”
    â€˜Wade, I hope.” Suddenly he lurched against the side of the carriage. “Good Lord! I do believe–”
    He was right. Lightened of its load, the whole unwieldy conveyance had risen like an ark upon the waters. For a few