must be another thing she meant to buy tomorrow. Well, it could not be helped. They must go early to bed tonight. That was, if…
He got up and went out of the back door and stood in the garden, looking down towards the sea. There had been no sun all day, and now, at barely three o'clock, a kind of darkness had already come, the sky sullen, heavy, colourless like salt. He could hear the vicious sea drumming on the rocks. He walked down the path, half-way to the beach. And then he stopped. He could see the tide had turned. The rock that had shown in mid-morning was now covered, but it was not the sea that held his eyes. The gulls had risen. They were circling, hundreds of them, thousands of them, lifting their wings against the wind. It was the gulls that made the darkening of the sky. And they were silent. They made not a sound. They just went on soaring and circling, rising, falling, trying their strength against the wind.
Nat turned. He ran up the path, back to the cottage.
'I'm going for Jill,' he said. 'I'll wait for her, at the 'bus stop.'
'What's the matter?' asked his wife. 'You've gone quite white.'
'Keep Johnny inside,' he said. 'Keep the door shut. Light up now, and draw the curtains.'
'It's only just gone three,' she said.
'Never mind. Do what I tell you.'
He looked inside the toolshed, outside the back door. Nothing there of much use. A spade was too heavy, and a fork no good. He took the hoe. It was the only possible tool, and light enough to carry.
He started walking up the lane to the 'bus stop, and now and again glanced back over his shoulder.
The gulls had risen higher now, their circles were broader, wider, they were spreading out in huge formation across the sky.
He hurried on; although he knew the 'bus would not come to the top of the hill before four o'clock he had to hurry. He passed no one on the way. He was glad of this. No time to stop and chatter.
At the top of the hill he waited. He was much too soon. There was half an hour still to go. The east wind came whipping across the fields from the higher ground. He stamped his feet and blew upon his hands. In the distance he could see the clay hills, white and clean, against the heavy pallor of the sky. Something black rose from behind them, like a smudge at first, then widening, becoming deeper, and the smudge became a cloud, and the cloud divided again into five other clouds, spreading north, east, south and west, and they were not clouds at all; they were birds. He watched them travel across the sky, and as one section passed overhead, within two or three hundred feet of him, he knew, from their speed, they were bound inland, up country, they had no business with the people here on the peninsula. They were rooks, crows, jackdaws, magpies, jays, all birds that usually preyed upon the smaller species; but this afternoon they were bound on some other mission.
'They've been given the towns,' thought Nat, 'they know what they have to do. We don't matter so much here. The gulls will serve for us. The others go to the towns.'
He went to the call-box, stepped inside and lifted the receiver. The exchange would do. They would pass the message on.
'I'm speaking from Highway,' he said, 'by the 'bus stop. I want to report large formations of birds travelling up country. The gulls are also forming in the bay.'
'All right,' answered the voice, laconic, weary.
'You'll be sure and pass this message on to the proper quarter?'
'Yes… yes…' Impatient now, fed-up. The buzzing note resumed.
'She's another,' thought Nat, 'she doesn't care. Maybe she's had to answer calls all day. She hopes to go to the pictures tonight. She'll squeeze some fellow's hand, and point up at the sky, and 'Look at all them birds!' She doesn't care.'
The 'bus came lumbering up the hill. Jill climbed out and three or four other children. The 'bus went on towards the town.
'What's the hoe for, Dad?'
They crowded around him, laughing, pointing. 'I just brought it along,' he said. 'Come on now, let's get home. It's cold, no hanging about. Here, you. I'll watch you across the fields, see how fast you can run.'
He was speaking to Jill's companions who came from different families, living in the council houses. A short cut would take them to the cottages.
'We want to play a bit in the lane,' said one of them.
'No, you don't. You go off home, or I'll tell your mammy.'
They whispered to one another, round-eyed, then scuttled off across the fields. Jill stared at her father, her mouth sullen. 'We always play in the lane,' she said.
'Not tonight, you don't,' he said. 'Come on now, no dawdling.'
He could see the gulls now, circling the fields, coming in towards the land. Still silent. Still no sound.
'Look, Dad, look over there, look at all the gulls.'
'Yes. Hurry, now.'
'Where are they flying to? Where are they going?'
'Up country, I dare say. Where it's warmer.'
He seized her hand and dragged her after him along the lane.
'Don't go so fast. I can't keep up.'
The gulls were copying the rooks and crows. They were spreading out in formation across the sky. They headed, in bands of thousands, to the four compass points.
'Dad, what is it? What are the gulls doing?'
They were not intent upon their flight, as the crows, as the jackdaws had been. They still circled overhead. Nor did they fly so high. It was as though they waited upon some signal. As though some decision had yet to be given. The order was not clear.
'Do you want me to carry you, Jill? Here, come pick-a-back.'
This way he might put on speed; but he was wrong. Jill was heavy. She kept slipping. And she was crying too. His sense of urgency, of fear, had communicated itself to the child.
'I wish the gulls would go away. I don't like them. They're coming closer to the lane.'
He put her down again. He started running, swinging Jill after him. As they went past the farm turning he saw the farmer backing his car out of the garage. Nat called to him.
'Can you give us a lift?' he said.
'What's that?'
Mr. Trigg turned in the driving seat and stared at them. Then a smile came to his cheerful, rubicund face.
'It looks as though we're in for some fun,' he said. 'Have you seen the gulls? Jim and I are going to take a crack at them. Everyone's gone bird crazy, talking of nothing else. I hear you were troubled in the night. Want a gun?'
Nat shook his head.
The small car was packed. There was just room for Jill, if she crouched on top of petrol tins on the back seat.
'I don't want a gun,' said Nat, 'but I'd be obliged if you'd run Jill home. She's scared of the birds.'
He spoke briefly. He did not want to talk in front of Jill.
'O.K.,' said the farmer, 'I'll take her home. Why don't you stop behind and join the shooting match? We'll make the feathers fly.'
Jill climbed in, and turning the car the driver sped up the lane. Nat followed after. Trigg must be crazy. What use was a gun against a sky of birds?
Now Nat was not responsible for Jill he had time to look about him. The birds were circling still, above the fields. Mostly herring gull, but the black-backed gull amongst them. Usually they kept apart. Now they were united. Some bond had brought them together. It was the black-backed gull that attacked the smaller birds, and even new-born lambs, so he'd heard. He'd never seen it done. He remembered this now, though, looking above him in the sky. They were coming in towards the farm. They were circling lower in the sky, and the black-backed gulls were to the front, the black-backed gulls were leading. The farm, then, was their target. They were making for the farm.
Nat increased his pace towards his own cottage. He saw the farmer's car turn and come back along the lane.
