Arabel and Mortimer by Joan Aiken Read Free Book Online

that their only child was out in a tiny boat on that black and wicked sea on such a perilous quest. In fact, Mrs. Jones fainted dead away and had to be revived with smelling salts and a hot-water bottle against the back of her neck.

    By the time she had come to, lifeboat No. 16 had been hauled back on board, and Mrs. Jones clung to Arabel and hugged her and shook her and slapped her and laughed and cried and said that Arabel must promise never,
never
to go off again in a boat like that in the middle of such a storm.
    "But I'd have to, Ma, if Mortimer was floating in the piano."
    "I don't care! You shouldn't have gone, even if he was inside a harpsichord! Now go and have a hot bath this minute, and take that dratted bird with you!"
    Luckily, all through this Mortimer went on sleeping. Arabel had a hot shower, and Mike brought her a delicious supper on a tray, and a whole lot of people came to congratulate her on the brave rescue, and on having Mortimer back safe and sound. All the previous events were forgiven and forgotten; Arabel, Mortimer, Henry, Mike, and Mr. Fairbairn were the most popular people on the ship.

    And all this time Mortimer went on sleeping.
    Then the best thing of all happened.
    Mr. Fairbairn arrived, carrying a soggy, wet, nasty, messy, salty, sodden, draggled bit of dark green woolly material.
    "Hoo are ye the noo, lassie?" he said. "No' the waur for yer boatie trip? When I was mekking a' siccar wi' the lifeboat I fund yon clout, an' for a' it's sae droukit an' towzled I bricht it along tae speer is't yon birdie's neck rag, that a' the blether's bin aboot?"

    "Oh, Mr. Fairbairn, it
is
! It's Mortimer's tie!" cried Arabel joyfully. "Oh, thank you, thank you! It must have blown up, not down, and got tangled in the davits! Oh, Mortimer
will
be pleased. It's lovely and wet and cold, too—just the way he likes it."
    At this moment Mortimer opened one eye. The first thing he saw was his dirty, soggy, wet, draggled, salt-encrusted, sodden, beloved green necktie.
    Mortimer gave a huge sigh of relief, which made his feathers all stick out sideways like the petals of a French marigold. (They looked rather like petals, too, for they were still all curly with setting lotion activated by the salt water.)
    Arabel laid the end of the tie by Mortimer's beak, and he took hold of it with a sudden quick snap. Then, shutting his eyes again, he stood up and turned round and round half a dozen times until he was nicely wound up. Then he dug his head under his wing, lay down, and went back to sleep.
    But Mr. Fairbairn gave a party, and Arabel and Henry and Isabella went to it and stayed up till all hours.
    The last seven days of the cruise passed quickly. The weather was fine. Miss Brandy Brown gave her concert with the Stepney Stepalives. Arabel and Henry played a lot more table tennis. The
Queen of Bethnal Green
steamed back across the Bay of Biscay, up the English Channel, round the corner of Kent, and along the Thames. All this time Mortimer stayed asleep. Just occasionally he would open one eye. If it could see water going past outside the porthole, he shut it again.

    Then, at last, when he opened his eye, he saw the streets of Tilbury going past through Mr. Jones's taxi window.
    "Kaaaark!" said Mortimer. He opened both eyes. The streets were still there—beautiful, gray, rainy streets with houses and shops and traffic lights—no sea anywhere. Mortimer sat bolt upright on Arabel's lap. His black eyes began to sparkle.
    "He's
so
glad to be home again," said Arabel. "Didn't I say that going on a cruise to Spain would be a horrible mistake? Didn't I?" said Mr. Jones. He was driving his own taxi, which Mr. Murphy had kindly brought to the dock for him.
    Just as they rolled to a stop in front of Number Six, Rainwater Crescent, Mortimer clambered onto the back of the front seat. He reached over Mr. Jones's shoulder and pulled the key out of the ignition. Then he flopped out through the taxi door (which Arabel had