Coot Club (Swallows and Amazons)
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A timeless classic, beautifully rejacketed.
BACKSTORY: Test your knowledge of Coot Club boats and learn more about spotting birds.
Tom Dudgeon has cast off a motor cruiser from its moorings to protect a coot's nest, but now the cruiser is searching high and low for him -- even offering a reward. Tom accepts an invitation for a week's cruise to teach his new friends, Dick and Dorothea how to sail. You couldn't get a better sailor than Tom but can he really stay one jump ahead of his pursuers long enough to complete the voyage?"
have to be at school.” “Could you make anything of sailing a boat as big as ours?” Tom looked up at the Teasel’s mast. “She isn’t bigger than the one the three of us sail when Uncle Frank has his holiday. Of course I couldn’t manage her all by myself.” “Three of you?” “Port and Starboard.” Dorothea’s eyes sparkled. Always those two seemed to be coming in. “She’ll do all right now,” said Tom, handing back the baler and tugging at his paddle which he had firmly wedged before sinking his
Dick. He was still glowing from the excitement of seeing those hawks, but he had been wanting to quant ever since that day when he had seen Tom doing it while the Death and Glory was towing the Teasel into Ranworth Broad. “Do you think he can?” asked Tom. “Current’s with us, what there is of it,” said Starboard. “He’s only got to keep her moving. It’s a good chance to learn. Come on, Dick. I’ll give her a shove or two and then you be ready. Hi, you people, get the main-sheet hard in. We don’t
feel it trickling down my collar,” said Dick. “And, oh, my beastly spectacles!” “It’s gone right up my sleeves,” said Port, who had been looking after the mainsheet. Tom said nothing. His were old oilskins, and the proofing had cracked across the shoulders, and all the top part of him was wet. While steering he had not noticed until it was too late that water was running off the oilskins straight into one of his sea-boots. Every time he moved his right foot he could feel the water seeping round
their awning for the Death and Glory,” said Tom. “Those three kids are going down to Acle, and someone’s going to let them know when the Hullabaloos are going to leave Wroxham.” “Jolly good,” said Starboard. “Let’s get away at once,” said Port. “We ought to get as far down the river as we can before dark. Buck up.” They ran along the dyke to the Teasel. Tom stopped just before they reached her. “I say,” he said, “the others’ll be awfully sick at having to start back.” “Well,” said Starboard,
ship. A long way down they had taken her already. And the tide was pouring down. Bother those twins. He had been counting on having a word with the pilot in the hulk just up the Waveney river, so as to make sure of getting to Breydon Bridge exactly at slack water. He did not like the look of the weather either. It was very misty down towards Yarmouth. And then, suddenly, he saw that bank of fog rolling up Breydon from the North Sea. Just before the fog reached the Teasel, he saw her swing round,