Washy and the Crocodile (5 page)

“None of those. He talks to the tree,” said Jack.

“He talks to the tree,” repeated Roger, who knew the importance of not sounding incredulous with his best friend — but was sorely tempted to ask if the tree talked back, and if so, what it said. After all, what could a tree say? A surprising amount, he thought; ands that would be a lovely exercise for a writer.

A talking tree! That would be ironical; and as an author he knew the importance of irony. Jack, however, did not. Jack still believed in the literal existence of James Bond. Oh, dear! Poor Jack! What a lot he had to learn! And how lucky he was, that Roger was his best friend!

“So, where is this unusual tree?” He asked, carefully removing all traces of irony from his voice.

“Not far.”

“Show me,” said Roger, who was being surprisingly clear-minded for an author.

The eucalyptus was at the bottom of the garden, near the hedge. Uncle Otto had brought the sapling all the way from Australia and planted it and watered it and cared for it until it grew big and strong and ... Australian; but even so it seemed wholly incapable of transporting two boys (and possibly a dog) to Australia.

The dog was Tommy, a wire-haired fox terrier; and Tommy was watching both boys with total concentration. What was going on? Was this a new game? If so, what were the rules? Tommy was a very logical fox terrier.

“Is that it?” Asked Roger.

“Definitely,” said his friend.

“What do we do now?” Asked Roger.

“We say the magic words,” said Jack, not feeling very confident. “That's what Uncle Otto does, anyway. When he wants to go there. To Australia, I mean.” Jack wasn't really at all sure about this, and wished he had been concentrating a bit more when he kept his uncle under observation. Like James Bond. Even if Roger was right, and the secret agent didn't really exist after all! But he didn't want to go on with that thought, and he put it to the back of his mind.

“So... What are they?” Asked Roger, coming to the point with an uncharacteristic acumen.

“What are what?” Asked Jack, who was thinking about James Bond. Now there was someone who really knew how to concentrate, when he needed to! Perhaps he should mention that to Mrs Waldegrave.

“The magic words,” Said Roger. “The words that will transport us to Australia.”

“Oh,” said Jack. “Those words.”

“Precisely,” said Roger, who knew how to make good use of an adverb.

“I don't know,” his best friend confessed miserably.

“You don't know?” Shrieked Jack's sister, who had crept up on the two boys unawares.

“You don't
know
?” Shrieked her best friend Samantha, effortlessly achieving a level of sustained incredulity which was, if possible, even more irritating.

“No, I don't,” said Jack. He was so surprised by their sudden appearance and what they had obviously overheard that he was unable to react with his usual confident bluster.

“No, he doesn't,” said his best friend Roger, determined to support his friend against this female broadside. “I expect they're jolly difficult,” he added loyally. Loyalty was important. Even for an author.

Samantha snorted. “I don't
think
so,” she said. They
can't
be. Not if a
man
came up with them.” Samantha was her mother's daughter, and had absorbed her mother's lack of respect for the lesser gender, as well as her capacity to emphasize some of her words on an apparently random basis. “I know! I
bet
I can guess them!” And she whispered something to Evie, and they both giggled, and then—

***

“It really is hot, isn't it?” said Jack. “In Australia, I mean.”

“It is,” said Samantha. “And very dry. And no sign of a bathroom anywhere. I'm not sure I'm going to like this.”

Somehow, the four children knew exactly where they were. To within a few thousand square miles, anyway. Jack wondered if they were upside down, and then decided that that was silly.

The trouble was, they might be in Australia, but where was Washy? Uncle Otto had never said just where to find him. And Australia was a very big place. Probably a continent, thought Jack thoughtfully. He didn't really know what a continent was, although Mrs Waldegrave had once told him that he was chronically
in
continent. That was after he had been to the toilet six times in the same class, and she was becoming just a little bit irritated, but even so, how was he supposed to know what the word incontinent meant? Luckily, Roger explained it to him, in the toilet, on their seventh visit, and after Mrs Waldegrave had told them both that they might as well
live
in the toilet, which would have presented certain practical difficulties if they had taken her suggestion seriously, which they didn't, because Roger said it was a prime example of sarcasm (which should never be confused with irony, he said; but Jack wasn't old enough to understand that yet).

Roger knew a lot about sarcasm, because of his mother. She was
very
sarcastic. On one occasion—but this was no time for Roger to reminisce, thought Jack to himself (he and Roger having long ago reached a stage where they were able to communicate by a sort of telepathy that did not require anything as clumsy as speech). It was time to find Washy. And there he was.

***

When they discussed it later on, they couldn't agree on who saw him first. Washy just seemed to appear out of nowhere. He was a tall, dark young man, who looked rather like Uncle Otto had described him; and yet different. But they were all quite sure it was Washy.

He looked rather handsome, thought Evie, who liked his chocolate brown skin and wavy hair, and the way his nose wrinkled up when he smiled.

He looked rather interesting, with his upright stance and keen, far-seeing eyes, thought Roger: the sort of brother he would have liked to have had.

He looked rather competent, thought Samantha. She wasn't used to men who radiated confidence, as most of her knowledge of men was gained from observing her father; and she thought she would have to watch this one very carefully.

He looked rather nice, thought Jack; and he decided there and then that he really liked Washy. This attraction, we regret to say, was not shared by Tommy, who didn't think much of the tall, dark stranger with the boomerang in his hand. Wire-haired fox terriers can be very odd at times, and very far from logical.

“Are you Washy?” Asked Evie, who liked things to be clear.

“I am,” replied Washy, who shared her view. “Hello, Evie,” he said politely as he shook her hand. Washy was a very polite aborigine. “What can I do for you?”

Evie wondered, for a moment, how he knew who she was: but the source of his information soon became apparent. Washy knew Otto. Girls, thought Jack, who was observing what was going on with a certain edginess. You let them come to Australia—he forgot, for a moment, that he had very definitely opposed any idea of his sister coming to Australia—and what happened? They took over. Just as Evie was doing now. Why, anyone would think—

“Hold it,” said Washy, stopping her explanation of why they were there, both politely and effectively—something that her brother had never been able to do. He had stood up to his full height, and was sniffing the air inquisitively.

“We have to move,” said Washy. “I smell fire. And it's drawing closer.”

None of them could smell anything, but they believed him. Washy was the sort of person one did believe. Besides, they could see a fleet of kangaroos on the horizon, moving at great speed; and there was a feeling of panic in the air. Jack remembered Uncle Otto's comment that bush fires in Australia were extremely dangerous, and wished he had paid more attention. He would do so next time, he thought. If there were a next time. Of course there would be! He was responsible for them being there. He had to take them back. After Washy had saved them from the fire. After all, he was an aborigine. He would know what to do.

Washy looked at them appraisingly. “Can you four run?” he asked.

“Roger and I can,” said Jack. “But Evie and Samantha... “

“May not be quite as fast,” said Evie. “As the boys.”

Washy nodded. “Wait,” he said, and tapped on his spear. Within a few seconds, two large, strongly built kangaroos had hopped up and joined them. They looked as if they could cope with anything, and the five newcomers were very pleased to see them.

“These are Emma and Rachael,” said Washy. “They'll carry the two girls, and we men shall run.”

“I'm not a man yet,” said Jack. “Not until my eighteenth—”

The aborigine patted his arm. “Never mind that,” he said reassuringly. “I understand. You haven't been— Just imagine that the tribal elders have already initiated you, and you're a man.”

“I will,” Jack exclaimed excitedly. What an adventure! This was going to be tremendous! As long as they weren't burned alive, of course, which would be a bit of a shame after they'd made such a good start: but he knew that Washy would prevent that. Washy looked very... What was the word? It was on the tip of his tongue—

“Reliable,” said Roger.

“Thanks,” said Jack. This was no time to be—

“Querulous,” said Roger.

Jack looked at him. There were times when he wished that Roger wasn't quite so—

“Perceptive?”

“Shut it, Roger!”

“What about your friend?” Asked Washy, who had been listening to this little interchange with interest, but without surprise. “Has he been initiated yet? Is he a man?”

“Not really,” said Jack. It was hard, but he had to tell the truth. “He's a writer.”

Washy was impressed. “A writer,” he said, and fingered Roger's shirt as if to assess its superior quality. “I've never met a writer before. Nor has any of us, in fact. Mrs Wombat will be really impressed.” His face broke into a huge smile, and he forgot the fire altogether. This was far more interesting. “Where do you get your inspiration from?”

“Get in, girls!” Rachael interrupted, in firm tones. She knew Washy of old, and knew when he had to be brought back to reality.

“In where?” Asked Samantha; and they all laughed while she worked it out and the two girls climbed into their new form of transport—which proved surprisingly clean and amazingly accommodating.

Washy took the two boys, or men, by the hand, and began to run.

Now Jack and Roger could smell the fire quite distinctly, and feel the gathering heat of the flames not far away, and they both sensed that the fire was gaining on them. Jack looked back and saw the flames leap to a tall tree about three hundred yards in their wake, and watched in astonishment as the tree burst into flames like the ceremonial torch being ignited at the Olympic Games; only this torch was burnt to a cinder almost immediately.

So Uncle Otto was right, after all! Jack hadn't quite believed it. He wished Uncle Otto were there. He would know what to do. But in the meantime, they had Washy; and Jack wouldn't have believed that it was possible to cover the ground so fast.

Meanwhile, Roger was having his first adventure, and beginning to feel that he would have preferred to read about it in the comfort of his bedroom at home, when his parents thought he had gone to sleep. Adventures were all very well, he thought, in a book: but he wasn't quite sure that he needed to take part in one!

“Are we going to make it?” he gasped. He had never been so near real danger before, and was interested in the feeling it gave him. Would he ever be able to write about it? What a waste, if he couldn't!

“Of course,” said Washy, and glanced over his shoulder. He grinned. “Probably.” He looked back again, calculatingly. “Touch and go.” He began to run even faster, and to bound from rock to rock as if he were a one-footed kangaroo himself; and to breathe a little harder.

“I'm in trouble,” gasped Roger, his breath coming harder and harder, and his legs faltering despite his efforts.

“Of course you are! You're not used to the bush! But just think what you'll be able to write!” Washy's face creased into a gigantic smile. “Come on! We need to get to the billabong! We'll be safe there!” He picked up both boys, one under each arm, and began to run even faster, his breath still calm and even, and his legs pounding the ground like pistons.

“Are you coping okay, girls?” As always, Washy was a very polite aborigine. The two kangaroos were indignant.

“A little hop like this?” Sniffed Emma. “We're enjoying it! Aren't we, Rach?”

“Of course,” exclaimed Rachael. “The idea!”

“Anything you men can do, we can do better!” Shouted Samantha, bouncing in her pouch.

“Definitely,” added Evie, who was determined not to be left out. This was a real adventure!

Washy nodded, and ran on at the same even, gigantic, dizzying pace; and all of a sudden Jack could see the lagoon was quite near. They were almost safe, provided that Crusty kept his head down, and didn't welcome a snack before dinner.