flinch in the face of a mere river. After all, his father had fought at Jutland and a maternal great-uncle had assisted in the bombardment of Alexandria in 1881. There had even been a Midshipman Glodstone at Trafalgar. With such a nautical tradition in the family he couldn't fail in his duty now. And in any case it would never do to show the slightest fear in front of Peregrine. The brute was cocky enough as it was.
All the same, he was decidedly disappointed when Peregrine returned with the news that there was nothing to it. 'A bit of a current, that's all, but it's all right if you swim upstream and anyway you'll have the rope.'
Glodstone took off his boots and, tying the laces together, looped them across his shoulders. The main thing was to act quickly and not to think. Even so, he hesitated as he took hold of the wet rope. 'You're absolutely certain you saw nothing suspicious over there? The last thing we want is to walk into a trap.'
'I didn't see anything except rocks and things. And anyway you said they're not watching this side because '
'I know what I said. You don't have to keep repeating it all the time. Now as soon as I'm over I'll give a tug on the rope as a signal. Have you got that straight?'
'Yes,' said Peregrine, 'but shouldn't I get the rope taut and tied to something?'
Glodstone didn't hear him. He had already plunged into the river and was experiencing to the full what Peregrine had described as 'a bit of current'. To Glodstone's way of thinking not that he had much opportunity for thought the lout didn't know a current from a maelstrom. And as for swimming upstream...Desperately fighting to keep his head above water and failing (tying his boots round his neck had been a ghastly mistake, the bloody things had filled with water and acted as sinkers), holding his breath when he went under and spouting when he came up, Glodstone clung to the rope for dear life and was swept downstream at a rate of knots. Only the rope saved him and just as he knew he was drowning, he banged into a rock, found himself bobbing in some slightly less turbulent water, and his feet touched ground. For a moment he lay there before scrambling up onto a rock ledge. It was still below water but it served as a seat and when the water had drained from his eye he saw that he was at the base of the cliff. He hadn't much use for cliffs but in the circumstances they were infinitely preferable to the swirling river. Glodstone edged himself away from it and stood up. As he did so he gave a tug on the rope.
Upstream, Peregrine responded. He'd been having some difficulty getting his hands on the cord in the darkness but had finally found it. And now came the signal that Glodstone was safely across. Peregrine dragged on the rope. So, for a moment, did Glodstone, but the imminent prospect of being hauled back into that infernal torrent combined with his inability to stand upright on the slimy rock proved too much for him. With a groan he slumped down and let go. He knew now with a terrible certainty that he should never have brought Peregrine. 'The bloody moron,' he muttered, before realizing that his only hope lay in the moron realizing what had happened. It was a faint hope but he clung to it as desperately as he did to the rock. As usual he was wrong. Peregrine was busy devising a method of carrying the guns and rucksacks across without getting them wet. On their way up the river he had noticed what looked like a rubbish tip. Worming his way along the bank he made a number of other interesting discoveries, among them an ancient bedstead, a rotted garden frame, several plastic sacks filled with garbage, something that felt and smelt like a dead dog and finally an old oil drum. This was just what he needed. He dragged it back and was about to put the rucksacks in when it dawned on him that it wouldn't float upright unless weighted down. After searching around for some rocks he climbed back to the road and brought down a painted concrete block which marked the verge. He dumped it in and tying the drum to the rope, let it out. The thing stayed upright. Only then did he put the guns and rucksacks in and, wedging the thing against the bank, undid the rope from the tree.
Five minutes later he was on the opposite bank. 'I've got everything ready to pull across,' he whispered. There was no reply. Crouching down he stared up the rocky hillside and was wondering
