A preview of TAMBOW'S SHIPWRECK, now available!
CHAPTER 1 THE STORM
As the sailing ship rolled heavily in the growing storm, Tambow stood on his bunk with his whiskered nose pressed against a large porthole. One moment he was looking up at ragged grey and black clouds, the next moment at grey-green foamy water as the Matanza rolled again, plunging the porthole into the sea.
Every time the porthole went underwater, Tambow held his breath. Maybe, this time he would see a fish swimming by!
A moan from below caught his attention and he left the porthole and peered over the edge of the bunk. He couldn’t quite see Wombi tucked into the bottom bunk, so he leant over a bit more, just as the ship hit a big wave and lurched to one side.
Tambow felt himself sliding, nose first, off the edge of the top bunk and dug his claws into the sheet. The ship rolled even further and then the sheet started to slip off the bunk and suddenly he was hanging upside down, swinging like a pendulum.
Of course, that didn’t last for long. The sheet slid right off and Tambow crashed down onto the bottom bunk, squashing his mother, causing the sheet to fall over them both.
“You silly little wombat!” came the muffled cry from Wombi. “Get off me, I can’t breathe!”
“Sorry,” said Tambow, trying to scramble to his paws. As he fought to untangle himself from the sheet, the ship rolled again and Tambow lost his balance. The young wombat fell off the bunk, dragging the sheet with him and landing on the floor with a bump. Tumbling to the side of the cabin as the ship heeled, he found himself rolled up tightly in the sheet. Wedged in the corner, Tambow kicked with his paws against the sheet until the ship heeled back the other way.
“Oh, help!” cried Tambow, as he took off across the cabin floor again, rolling with a crash into the side of Wombi’s bunk.
Wombi’s paw reached out and grabbed a corner of the sheet, so the next time Tambow rolled off again, the sheet unwound itself and he was deposited in the far corner of the cabin, shaken, but unwrapped.
“Tambow!” croaked Wombi, wanting to shout at him but feeling too ill, “I’m feeling seasick and you are being no help at all!”
Tambow wobbled to his paws and crept across to the side of her bunk. He pressed his nose into her furry face and said, “What can I do to help?”
“Just – leave – me – alone!” said Wombi, shutting her eyes tightly. Then she added as an afterthought, “Please.”
“Oh!” said Tambow. “Right, I’ll, er, um. Well, I’ll climb up onto my bunk again.”
“Good!” came the faint reply from Wombi, who had pulled her sheet over her head.
Tambow looked at the narrow ladder leading up to his bunk, swaying this way and that as the ship rolled along. ‘Oh dear,’ he thought. ‘It’s going to be harder to get up than it was to get down!’
As he put a paw on the bottom rung, there was a loud crash and he felt the ship shudder. He could hear men shouting and running feet drumming on the deck above his head.
Now, most young wombats are inquisitive and Tambow was more inquisitive than most. He just had to know what was going on. He slithered across the tilting cabin floor towards the open doorway, gaining speed as he went. His claws skidded on the smooth wooden floor and he whooshed straight out of the cabin and into the passageway, to be stopped with a thump against the closed door of the cabin opposite.
Picking himself up, he weaved his way down the passage until an extra big lurch from the ship had Tambow skidding sideways through another open doorway. A din of crashes and creaks surrounded him as he found himself sliding across the galley floor, while pots and pans swayed from hooks above him. Stewpot, the cook, was trying to stop a pile of plates from becoming airborne, when Tambow crashed into the back of his legs and knocked him over. Breaking crockery landed all around them.
“What the……?!” yelled Stewpot, as Tambow wriggled out from under him. “Why, you,….. you,….. wombat you. It’s hard enough in this galley without you getting under my feet. Go on Tambow, out of here before I skin you!”
“Sorry Mr. Stewpot, sir,” squeaked Tambow, as he fled out of the galley, not sure how serious Stewpot was about skinning him.
Back in the passageway, he could still hear a commotion coming from above, so he swayed and swerved down to the end, where a ladder led up to the open deck. He carefully climbed up the steps, gripping tightly as the ship pitched and rolled. At the top was a little door, in two parts, like a stable door. The top half was open. Standing on his back paws, Tambow could see over the lower door, towards the stern of the ship. His eyes went as wide as saucers as he looked at the scene before him.
Two men stood straining at the big steering wheel, fighting the wind and the waves to keep the ship on its course. The mate stood nearby, bellowing out orders through a megaphone. Captain Anders, beside him, looked up at the tall masts and rigging, with a serious face.
But the sea! Tambow couldn’t believe how it had grown since he last saw it. Usually he could look down on the wave tops from the safety of the Matanza’s deck, but now they were looking down at him!
Huge grey waves, flecked with white, charged at the ship, some with a foaming crest of breaking water sliding down the face.
‘Wow!’ thought Tambow, hanging on tightly behind the safety of the door. ‘No wonder the ship is bouncing about so much!’ At first, the waves were quite frightening, but after a few had gone past and only soaked the helmsmen with spray, he found them fun to watch.
“Mr. Marlin,” shouted the captain to the mate, over the noise of the wind, “get that torn sail down!”
The mate, nicknamed Spike by the crew, lifted his megaphone to his mouth and roared “Lower away the forward topsail now, before it rips more and brings the topmast down too. Look lively! Get on with it NOW!” This was followed by a spluttering gurgle:
Just as he was finishing yelling his order, a mischievous wave top burst across the aft deck, catching the mate in the face. Having the funnel shaped megaphone in his mouth at the time, the seawater squirted through and nearly drowned him! Spitting out water, the mate up-ended the megaphone to empty it, and then looked up again to see what was happening,
Tambow couldn’t see what was going on at all, as he was looking aft, towards the stern of the ship, and everything seemed to be happening forward, towards the bows. He scrambled over the low door and plopped down onto the wet deck on the other side. Cautiously, as the deck was moving under his paws like an angry beast, he moved along the back of the deckhouse so that he could look around the corner and see what was happening forward.
Peeping around, he was suddenly in the full blast of the wind, which nearly bowled him over. He spread his stocky legs wide apart for a better balance and crept further forward, as he still could not see what the captain was looking at. Now, right at the front of the deckhouse, he had a clear view of the bows of the ship. High up the foremast, he could see some of the crew perilously balanced on a swaying wooden yard, trying to lower a huge flapping sail, which was already ripped and rapidly getting worse.
As he watched, he heard someone bellow, “WAVE!” Tambow wondered to whom he should be waving and, without thinking, lifted a paw to wave at the men up the mast. Just then, a huge angry wave smashed into the side of the ship and a wall of solid water burst over the railing, sweeping across the deck. Before he had time to even think, ‘Oh help!’, Tambow was swept off his paws.
The water rolled him over and over across the sloping deck until he was thrown, like a bit of driftwood, into the solid railing on the far side. ‘Oooff!’ thought Tambow, spitting out a mouthful of seawater. ‘That was a bit too wet to be much fun.’
Now, the ship rolled back the other way and Tambow and most of the wave went tumbling back across the deck. In a brief moment, when he was facing the way he was going, he could see that he was sliding straight towards a large gap in the railing. A torrent of water sloshing across the deck was pouring through it, back into the sea.
“HELP!” cried Tambow, as he frantically scrabbled to get a grip on something, anything, to stop him from shooting out through the gap into the cold sea beyond. He brushed past a rope and was able to cling on for a second, but the swirling water was too strong for him and he lost his grip, sliding again towards the gap in the rail, closer and closer.
“OOOOHHHHH HEEEELLLP!” he shrieked as he was swept into the gap head first, looking at another huge wave about to swallow him up. His scrabbling claws scraped across the smooth deck, then he felt his front paws slip off the edge and he started to tumble, out over the sea.
“YEEOWCH!” Tambow suddenly felt a sharp pain in his tail. Instead of falling into the sea, he found himself slamming into the side of the ship’s hull, his frightened eyes peering into the foaming wave top just below him. As the wave rose towards him and was about to sweep him away, he mysteriously slid up, through the railing and back onto the deck.
A hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him aboard. Tambow blinked salt water out of his eyes and found himself suspended by Jamie, the young cabin boy. Jamie let go of his tail and using his free hand to hold onto a rope that was tied across the deck, he swiftly carried Tambow back to the shelter of the deckhouse.
“Tambow, are you all right?” Jamie asked the soggy wombat, as he put him down at the top of the ladder.
“Phhht, sphfft, echht,” he spluttered, spitting out seawater, then “Buuurrrp, ooofft, yecht.” He had a good shake, spraying water over Jamie, who was soaked anyway, and then said, “Er, um, yes. I think so. You saved me, didn’t you?”
“I suppose so,” Jamie said modestly, “but you shouldn’t be out on deck in a storm like this.”
He was interrupted by a bellow from the captain. “Jamieson, get Tambow down below and make sure he stays there. He was nearly fish food then!”
“Come on, I’ll take you back to your cabin,” said Jamie, as he picked Tambow up again. He carried him down the ladder and then they swayed along the passage.
Passing the galley, Jamie poked his nose around the door. Stewpot was on his hands and knees still picking up bits of crockery and glared up at them. He opened his mouth to say something rude to Tambow, but then he noticed that he was soaked and shivering, looking frightened too.
“What happened to him?” asked Stewpot, nodding towards Tambow.
“Nearly went overboard!” replied Jamie. “Got a biscuit for him to cheer him up?”
“Oh, I reckon I might find something. Not that he deserves it, mind. Little rascal.” Stewpot hauled himself to his feet and swayed across the galley to a locker, which held a large tin. Opening the tin he took out two biscuits, gave one to Tambow who eagerly took a bite, and the other to Jamie. “Give that to Wombi,” the cook told Jamie, “mind you don’t eat it yourself now!”
“Ank ooh ery uch,” said Tambow, his mouth full of biscuit.
Jamie dropped Tambow in the doorway to his cabin, and left the extra biscuit on a small table beside Wombi’s bunk. Wombi was only visible as a bump under the sheet. Occasional groans could be heard as the ship rolled heavily.
“I’ve got to go back on deck now, Tambow. Make sure you stay down here. Oh, and be gentle with your Ma, seasickness is no fun, but she’ll be over it soon.”
With that he left and Tambow was alone with Wombi. He licked the last crumbs from his whiskers and then went and nudged her with his nose.
“Wombi?”
“What?”
“Are you awake?”
“No,” she groaned.
“Oh,” said Tambow. “In that case you probably don’t want this biscuit, do you?”
“Go away, leave me alone,” she mumbled, lifting a corner of the sheet. She opened one eye and peered blearily out at him. Her second eye popped wide open when she saw him.
“Tambow, why are you all wet?”
“Well,” he started, “I went up on deck and there were huge waves and the captain was shouting and men were up the mast and………….”
“Stop,” she croaked. “I just want to go back to sleep. Don’t get wet again!”
“Right,” said Tambow. “Now, about this biscuit…..?”
“Yeerghh!” she muttered, pulling the sheet tightly over her head.
Back in his bunk, Tambow rubbed his tummy, feeling the comforting bulge of two biscuits, as the cabin carried on rolling from side to side.
He thought back to the start of the adventure, escaping with his mother from a circus and trying to find their way home. What experiences they had to remember, both good and bad! What a bit of luck it was, finding their way to the coast and onto a ship bound for somewhere called Australia, where, he was told, there would be lots of young wombats for him to play with.
The voyage had started well, with the big ship sailing gently through calm seas, but very soon a storm came and at the start of the rough weather, Wombi went very quiet and felt too ill to eat. Tambow missed having her awake to answer his endless questions, but he did his best to help out by eating her share of the food too.
‘Oh well,’ he yawned to himself, ‘Jamie said the storm will soon be over.’ And with that thought he dozed off, as his bunk rocked to and fro.
As the sailing ship rolled heavily in the growing storm, Tambow stood on his bunk with his whiskered nose pressed against a large porthole. One moment he was looking up at ragged grey and black clouds, the next moment at grey-green foamy water as the Matanza rolled again, plunging the porthole into the sea.
Every time the porthole went underwater, Tambow held his breath. Maybe, this time he would see a fish swimming by!
A moan from below caught his attention and he left the porthole and peered over the edge of the bunk. He couldn’t quite see Wombi tucked into the bottom bunk, so he leant over a bit more, just as the ship hit a big wave and lurched to one side.
Tambow felt himself sliding, nose first, off the edge of the top bunk and dug his claws into the sheet. The ship rolled even further and then the sheet started to slip off the bunk and suddenly he was hanging upside down, swinging like a pendulum.
Of course, that didn’t last for long. The sheet slid right off and Tambow crashed down onto the bottom bunk, squashing his mother, causing the sheet to fall over them both.
“You silly little wombat!” came the muffled cry from Wombi. “Get off me, I can’t breathe!”
“Sorry,” said Tambow, trying to scramble to his paws. As he fought to untangle himself from the sheet, the ship rolled again and Tambow lost his balance. The young wombat fell off the bunk, dragging the sheet with him and landing on the floor with a bump. Tumbling to the side of the cabin as the ship heeled, he found himself rolled up tightly in the sheet. Wedged in the corner, Tambow kicked with his paws against the sheet until the ship heeled back the other way.
“Oh, help!” cried Tambow, as he took off across the cabin floor again, rolling with a crash into the side of Wombi’s bunk.
Wombi’s paw reached out and grabbed a corner of the sheet, so the next time Tambow rolled off again, the sheet unwound itself and he was deposited in the far corner of the cabin, shaken, but unwrapped.
“Tambow!” croaked Wombi, wanting to shout at him but feeling too ill, “I’m feeling seasick and you are being no help at all!”
Tambow wobbled to his paws and crept across to the side of her bunk. He pressed his nose into her furry face and said, “What can I do to help?”
“Just – leave – me – alone!” said Wombi, shutting her eyes tightly. Then she added as an afterthought, “Please.”
“Oh!” said Tambow. “Right, I’ll, er, um. Well, I’ll climb up onto my bunk again.”
“Good!” came the faint reply from Wombi, who had pulled her sheet over her head.
Tambow looked at the narrow ladder leading up to his bunk, swaying this way and that as the ship rolled along. ‘Oh dear,’ he thought. ‘It’s going to be harder to get up than it was to get down!’
As he put a paw on the bottom rung, there was a loud crash and he felt the ship shudder. He could hear men shouting and running feet drumming on the deck above his head.
Now, most young wombats are inquisitive and Tambow was more inquisitive than most. He just had to know what was going on. He slithered across the tilting cabin floor towards the open doorway, gaining speed as he went. His claws skidded on the smooth wooden floor and he whooshed straight out of the cabin and into the passageway, to be stopped with a thump against the closed door of the cabin opposite.
Picking himself up, he weaved his way down the passage until an extra big lurch from the ship had Tambow skidding sideways through another open doorway. A din of crashes and creaks surrounded him as he found himself sliding across the galley floor, while pots and pans swayed from hooks above him. Stewpot, the cook, was trying to stop a pile of plates from becoming airborne, when Tambow crashed into the back of his legs and knocked him over. Breaking crockery landed all around them.
“What the……?!” yelled Stewpot, as Tambow wriggled out from under him. “Why, you,….. you,….. wombat you. It’s hard enough in this galley without you getting under my feet. Go on Tambow, out of here before I skin you!”
“Sorry Mr. Stewpot, sir,” squeaked Tambow, as he fled out of the galley, not sure how serious Stewpot was about skinning him.
Back in the passageway, he could still hear a commotion coming from above, so he swayed and swerved down to the end, where a ladder led up to the open deck. He carefully climbed up the steps, gripping tightly as the ship pitched and rolled. At the top was a little door, in two parts, like a stable door. The top half was open. Standing on his back paws, Tambow could see over the lower door, towards the stern of the ship. His eyes went as wide as saucers as he looked at the scene before him.
Two men stood straining at the big steering wheel, fighting the wind and the waves to keep the ship on its course. The mate stood nearby, bellowing out orders through a megaphone. Captain Anders, beside him, looked up at the tall masts and rigging, with a serious face.
But the sea! Tambow couldn’t believe how it had grown since he last saw it. Usually he could look down on the wave tops from the safety of the Matanza’s deck, but now they were looking down at him!
Huge grey waves, flecked with white, charged at the ship, some with a foaming crest of breaking water sliding down the face.
‘Wow!’ thought Tambow, hanging on tightly behind the safety of the door. ‘No wonder the ship is bouncing about so much!’ At first, the waves were quite frightening, but after a few had gone past and only soaked the helmsmen with spray, he found them fun to watch.
“Mr. Marlin,” shouted the captain to the mate, over the noise of the wind, “get that torn sail down!”
The mate, nicknamed Spike by the crew, lifted his megaphone to his mouth and roared “Lower away the forward topsail now, before it rips more and brings the topmast down too. Look lively! Get on with it NOW!” This was followed by a spluttering gurgle:
Just as he was finishing yelling his order, a mischievous wave top burst across the aft deck, catching the mate in the face. Having the funnel shaped megaphone in his mouth at the time, the seawater squirted through and nearly drowned him! Spitting out water, the mate up-ended the megaphone to empty it, and then looked up again to see what was happening,
Tambow couldn’t see what was going on at all, as he was looking aft, towards the stern of the ship, and everything seemed to be happening forward, towards the bows. He scrambled over the low door and plopped down onto the wet deck on the other side. Cautiously, as the deck was moving under his paws like an angry beast, he moved along the back of the deckhouse so that he could look around the corner and see what was happening forward.
Peeping around, he was suddenly in the full blast of the wind, which nearly bowled him over. He spread his stocky legs wide apart for a better balance and crept further forward, as he still could not see what the captain was looking at. Now, right at the front of the deckhouse, he had a clear view of the bows of the ship. High up the foremast, he could see some of the crew perilously balanced on a swaying wooden yard, trying to lower a huge flapping sail, which was already ripped and rapidly getting worse.
As he watched, he heard someone bellow, “WAVE!” Tambow wondered to whom he should be waving and, without thinking, lifted a paw to wave at the men up the mast. Just then, a huge angry wave smashed into the side of the ship and a wall of solid water burst over the railing, sweeping across the deck. Before he had time to even think, ‘Oh help!’, Tambow was swept off his paws.
The water rolled him over and over across the sloping deck until he was thrown, like a bit of driftwood, into the solid railing on the far side. ‘Oooff!’ thought Tambow, spitting out a mouthful of seawater. ‘That was a bit too wet to be much fun.’
Now, the ship rolled back the other way and Tambow and most of the wave went tumbling back across the deck. In a brief moment, when he was facing the way he was going, he could see that he was sliding straight towards a large gap in the railing. A torrent of water sloshing across the deck was pouring through it, back into the sea.
“HELP!” cried Tambow, as he frantically scrabbled to get a grip on something, anything, to stop him from shooting out through the gap into the cold sea beyond. He brushed past a rope and was able to cling on for a second, but the swirling water was too strong for him and he lost his grip, sliding again towards the gap in the rail, closer and closer.
“OOOOHHHHH HEEEELLLP!” he shrieked as he was swept into the gap head first, looking at another huge wave about to swallow him up. His scrabbling claws scraped across the smooth deck, then he felt his front paws slip off the edge and he started to tumble, out over the sea.
“YEEOWCH!” Tambow suddenly felt a sharp pain in his tail. Instead of falling into the sea, he found himself slamming into the side of the ship’s hull, his frightened eyes peering into the foaming wave top just below him. As the wave rose towards him and was about to sweep him away, he mysteriously slid up, through the railing and back onto the deck.
A hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him aboard. Tambow blinked salt water out of his eyes and found himself suspended by Jamie, the young cabin boy. Jamie let go of his tail and using his free hand to hold onto a rope that was tied across the deck, he swiftly carried Tambow back to the shelter of the deckhouse.
“Tambow, are you all right?” Jamie asked the soggy wombat, as he put him down at the top of the ladder.
“Phhht, sphfft, echht,” he spluttered, spitting out seawater, then “Buuurrrp, ooofft, yecht.” He had a good shake, spraying water over Jamie, who was soaked anyway, and then said, “Er, um, yes. I think so. You saved me, didn’t you?”
“I suppose so,” Jamie said modestly, “but you shouldn’t be out on deck in a storm like this.”
He was interrupted by a bellow from the captain. “Jamieson, get Tambow down below and make sure he stays there. He was nearly fish food then!”
“Come on, I’ll take you back to your cabin,” said Jamie, as he picked Tambow up again. He carried him down the ladder and then they swayed along the passage.
Passing the galley, Jamie poked his nose around the door. Stewpot was on his hands and knees still picking up bits of crockery and glared up at them. He opened his mouth to say something rude to Tambow, but then he noticed that he was soaked and shivering, looking frightened too.
“What happened to him?” asked Stewpot, nodding towards Tambow.
“Nearly went overboard!” replied Jamie. “Got a biscuit for him to cheer him up?”
“Oh, I reckon I might find something. Not that he deserves it, mind. Little rascal.” Stewpot hauled himself to his feet and swayed across the galley to a locker, which held a large tin. Opening the tin he took out two biscuits, gave one to Tambow who eagerly took a bite, and the other to Jamie. “Give that to Wombi,” the cook told Jamie, “mind you don’t eat it yourself now!”
“Ank ooh ery uch,” said Tambow, his mouth full of biscuit.
Jamie dropped Tambow in the doorway to his cabin, and left the extra biscuit on a small table beside Wombi’s bunk. Wombi was only visible as a bump under the sheet. Occasional groans could be heard as the ship rolled heavily.
“I’ve got to go back on deck now, Tambow. Make sure you stay down here. Oh, and be gentle with your Ma, seasickness is no fun, but she’ll be over it soon.”
With that he left and Tambow was alone with Wombi. He licked the last crumbs from his whiskers and then went and nudged her with his nose.
“Wombi?”
“What?”
“Are you awake?”
“No,” she groaned.
“Oh,” said Tambow. “In that case you probably don’t want this biscuit, do you?”
“Go away, leave me alone,” she mumbled, lifting a corner of the sheet. She opened one eye and peered blearily out at him. Her second eye popped wide open when she saw him.
“Tambow, why are you all wet?”
“Well,” he started, “I went up on deck and there were huge waves and the captain was shouting and men were up the mast and………….”
“Stop,” she croaked. “I just want to go back to sleep. Don’t get wet again!”
“Right,” said Tambow. “Now, about this biscuit…..?”
“Yeerghh!” she muttered, pulling the sheet tightly over her head.
Back in his bunk, Tambow rubbed his tummy, feeling the comforting bulge of two biscuits, as the cabin carried on rolling from side to side.
He thought back to the start of the adventure, escaping with his mother from a circus and trying to find their way home. What experiences they had to remember, both good and bad! What a bit of luck it was, finding their way to the coast and onto a ship bound for somewhere called Australia, where, he was told, there would be lots of young wombats for him to play with.
The voyage had started well, with the big ship sailing gently through calm seas, but very soon a storm came and at the start of the rough weather, Wombi went very quiet and felt too ill to eat. Tambow missed having her awake to answer his endless questions, but he did his best to help out by eating her share of the food too.
‘Oh well,’ he yawned to himself, ‘Jamie said the storm will soon be over.’ And with that thought he dozed off, as his bunk rocked to and fro.
Read on for a preview of TAMBOW, and TAMBOW'S WOMBATICAL WANDERINGS!
TAMBOW
1. TAMBOW’S BIG BOUNCE
Tambow sat looking through the bars trying hard not to fidget, but young wombats find it difficult to sit still for long. When he thought his mother had fallen asleep, he tried an experimental somersault but got stuck upside down in the corner. After a bit of wriggling he untangled himself and practised a few more rolls, crashing into the bars each time. Wombi sighed and burrowed deeper into the straw. She knew it was hopeless to try and quieten Tambow down when he was like this, so she put her paws over her eyes and pretended to be asleep.
The cage rocked alarmingly as Tambow bounced around inside. Bored with somersaults he tried jumping up and down to touch the roof of the cage and then had a go at headstands, but with the swaying of the wagon he kept falling over. He tried one more leap and as he took off, the wagon gave a great lurch as one of the wooden wheels dropped into a deep pothole. A loud splintering noise came from the wagon as the wheel spokes shattered and Tambow landed in a heap on his mother.
Wombi struggled out from beneath a tangle of straw, fur and paws. She was about to shout at Tambow when she suddenly realized the world was rushing past in a whirl. The overloaded wagon, its wheel broken, tipped over on its side, and as it crashed down onto the road, the jolt snapped the ropes holding their cage, allowing it to go rolling over and over until it came to a shuddering halt in the ditch beside the road.
Dazed, Wombi sat up and wondered what the squeaking noise was, while she waited for her head to stop spinning.
“Gerroff! Gerroff! I can’t breathe and you’re squashing me!”
She looked down, surprised to see she was now sitting on Tambow’s head.
“Oh, I’m sorry dear, are you all right?” she enquired anxiously as Tambow sat up and spat out a mouthful of straw.
“Wow! That was the best bounce I’ve ever done!” said Tambow.
“I don’t think it was entirely your own doing, dear, I think something broke on the wagon and tipped us over,” said his mother sensibly.
“Look, look, look!” shrieked Tambow excitedly, pointing to the end of the cage. “I broke the bars as well, wasn’t that good, didn’t I do well?” He wasn’t going to be put off by explanations of broken wheels.
Sure enough, some of the bars at the end of the cage had bent and jumped out of place, leaving a gap just big enough for a wombat to get through. Beyond, the moor and freedom beckoned.
“Quick, Tambow, stop bouncing up and down! Keep quiet and follow me!” said Wombi, already squeezing through the bars. They cautiously climbed up the bank, out of the ditch and peered over the top. Men swarmed all around the upset wagon, some pushing and shoving, some yelling and waving their arms in the air and some releasing the poor horses from twisted shafts. They were all so busy that nobody noticed the missing cage.
Wombi put her paw to her lips, said, “Shh! Follow me,” and crept out of the ditch on the far side.
Keeping low she trotted swiftly away from the road and, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Tambow was following, picked her way through the prickly bushes, towards the open moor.
“Ouch!” The quiet was shattered by a cry from behind her. Tambow, who had been copying his mother by looking over his shoulder too, had walked straight into a large clump of brambles and was now backing out with his nose covered in prickles. He sat down with a thump on the ground and proceeded to pull out the prickles with his paws.
One of the crew of men now working on righting the wagon stopped pushing and said, “Ere, did you ’ear an owch?”
“Wot was that, Reg?” said Arthur, who had been driving the Big Top wagon.
“Oi ’eard an owch from over there,” said Reg, pointing to the moor across the ditch, as Wombi ran back to see what had happened to Tambow.
“It’s the wombats, they’ve escaped! Quick, after them!” yelled Arthur. They all left the stricken wagon and jumped across the ditch in pursuit, just as Wombi reached Tambow.
“Come on!” she cried. “They’re after us, run!”
“But my dose hurts,” he complained, holding a paw to it.
At that moment, Arthur let out a blood-curdling yell. When Tambow looked back to see what all the noise was about and saw all the angry men running towards him, he suddenly forgot about his nose and took off after his mother’s bobbing tail.
That morning, as the sun rose over the edge of the moor, its first warm rays dispersed the lingering night mist and revealed a line of wagons jolting along the potholed road. The heavy horses strained at their shafts as they pulled the gaily painted carts along, their drivers occasionally cracking a whip above their heads and shouting encouragement whenever the wheels threatened to sink into the soft ruts. Leading the procession was a huge traction engine, its canopy festooned with brightly coloured lights and painted on either side with the words,
‘MARVELLO’S MAGICAL CIRCUS’.
Towed behind the engine, which hissed steam and belched out clouds of black smoke, came the biggest wagon of all.
Through the bars at the front of this big wagon, a large grey head sleepily peered out at the countryside as it slowly passed by. His huge ears flapped as smuts of soot floated down on him.
Tuskany the elephant was not in a good mood. He had enjoyed the town where the circus spent the last few days and had made friends with a small boy called Albert, the baker’s son. Every morning, Albert had appeared with a bag full of stale buns and cakes left over from the previous day and smuggled them in to Tuskany when his keeper was not looking. Tuskany, of course, thoroughly enjoyed this treat and had been looking forward to it this morning, when he was rudely awakened and loaded into the wagon, no buns today!
Behind Tuskany came horse drawn carts carrying the lions and tigers, the dancing bear who was so clumsy and trod on everybody’s toes, the chimpanzees who were always cheeky to the clowns, and all the other animals, large and small, who were kept busy in the circus.
The large wagon at the back of the line was laden with all the pieces of wood and canvas that went to make up the red and white striped Big Top, which the men put up every time they stopped at a town. Perched right on the top of this load was a small cage tied on with ropes and in the corner two small furry animals lay curled up on a bed of straw. A painted wooden board tied onto the side of the cage, announced, in rather shaky writing;
‘WOMBATS. HANDLE WITH CARE. THIS WAY UP.’
The smaller wombat opened one dark brown eye and looked at the landscape passing by. As far as the eye could see the moor rolled away, softly hued with greens and mauves and yellows in its summer colours. Trees were few and far between, with stunted, wind-contorted limbs, a reminder of the bleak winters they had to suffer.
He started to get up but a grey paw pressed him back into the straw. “Go back to sleep, Tambow, it’s still early and I expect we’ve got a long way to go.”
“I wish we could go and run about over there,” he said, waving a paw in the direction of the moor. “It’s so boring being cooped up in this little cage every day.”
His mother, Wombi, opened her eyes and looked at him.
“So do I, dear, so do I. Before you were born, I used to live in a land similar to this, but it was much hotter. Then the trappers came and I’ve been stuck in cages ever since.
“It’s not fair,” said Tambow. “The only time they let us out is when they want us to do those silly tricks and then the trainer spends the whole time shouting at me because I’m no good at them.”
Now Tambow had his wish. They raced across the moor with the men in hot pursuit, dodging boulders and wriggling through bushes. Every time they thought they had lost them and ventured gingerly across open ground, a shout would go up from their pursuers and the chase would be on again.
To start with, Tambow thought this was a great game, but after a while his little legs started to feel tired and he was finding it difficult to keep up with Wombi. She kept urging him on and the shouts from behind kept his tired paws moving, but he desperately wanted a rest. How he wished he were small enough to be carried inside his mother’s pouch, like he was when he was a baby.
Ahead, Wombi spotted an outcrop of large tumbled boulders, which looked like an ideal hiding place, but to get there they had to cross a wide flat area, dotted with small bright green grasses. She knew Tambow was tired and the men were catching up, but she urged him on and together they ran towards the cover.
As soon as they were out in the open they heard a triumphant yell from behind. “We’ve got ’em now lads, come on, after them!” The circus men, wearing their heavy boots, thundered across the springy turf behind the wombats, making the ground shake beneath their fleeing paws. They had covered half the distance to the rocks and the men were catching up fast when the wombats came upon a wet patch of grass where their paws sank in a little, slowing them down even more.
“I can’t go any further,” wailed Tambow between pants.
“You must,” hissed Wombi. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a cage?” She glanced over her shoulder and thought it was hopeless. The men were nearly upon them but she stubbornly refused to give up.
Then a strange thing happened. Arthur, only a few paces behind them, his hands already outstretched, suddenly staggered as his boots sank through the bright green grass and into the soft bog beneath, then he tripped and fell flat on his face. The rest of the men tried to stop, but too late! They all found themselves sinking up to their knees in black, sticky mud, some joining Arthur, face first in the bog.
The wombats, being small and light, were able to keep going and a minute later they were safe in the shelter of the boulders looking back at the men floundering in the mire.
They both peeped out from behind a sun-warmed boulder, trying to regain their breath, and looked at the scene below. All the men had stumbled headlong into the bog guarding the rocky outcrop and now wallowed in the mud.
Eventually, all the mucky circus crew removed themselves from the bog and scraped off the worst of the mud. The panting wombats, hidden from view, watched as the grimy men shook fists in their direction and then plodded off across the moor, retracing their steps towards the road.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tambow sat looking through the bars trying hard not to fidget, but young wombats find it difficult to sit still for long. When he thought his mother had fallen asleep, he tried an experimental somersault but got stuck upside down in the corner. After a bit of wriggling he untangled himself and practised a few more rolls, crashing into the bars each time. Wombi sighed and burrowed deeper into the straw. She knew it was hopeless to try and quieten Tambow down when he was like this, so she put her paws over her eyes and pretended to be asleep.
The cage rocked alarmingly as Tambow bounced around inside. Bored with somersaults he tried jumping up and down to touch the roof of the cage and then had a go at headstands, but with the swaying of the wagon he kept falling over. He tried one more leap and as he took off, the wagon gave a great lurch as one of the wooden wheels dropped into a deep pothole. A loud splintering noise came from the wagon as the wheel spokes shattered and Tambow landed in a heap on his mother.
Wombi struggled out from beneath a tangle of straw, fur and paws. She was about to shout at Tambow when she suddenly realized the world was rushing past in a whirl. The overloaded wagon, its wheel broken, tipped over on its side, and as it crashed down onto the road, the jolt snapped the ropes holding their cage, allowing it to go rolling over and over until it came to a shuddering halt in the ditch beside the road.
Dazed, Wombi sat up and wondered what the squeaking noise was, while she waited for her head to stop spinning.
“Gerroff! Gerroff! I can’t breathe and you’re squashing me!”
She looked down, surprised to see she was now sitting on Tambow’s head.
“Oh, I’m sorry dear, are you all right?” she enquired anxiously as Tambow sat up and spat out a mouthful of straw.
“Wow! That was the best bounce I’ve ever done!” said Tambow.
“I don’t think it was entirely your own doing, dear, I think something broke on the wagon and tipped us over,” said his mother sensibly.
“Look, look, look!” shrieked Tambow excitedly, pointing to the end of the cage. “I broke the bars as well, wasn’t that good, didn’t I do well?” He wasn’t going to be put off by explanations of broken wheels.
Sure enough, some of the bars at the end of the cage had bent and jumped out of place, leaving a gap just big enough for a wombat to get through. Beyond, the moor and freedom beckoned.
“Quick, Tambow, stop bouncing up and down! Keep quiet and follow me!” said Wombi, already squeezing through the bars. They cautiously climbed up the bank, out of the ditch and peered over the top. Men swarmed all around the upset wagon, some pushing and shoving, some yelling and waving their arms in the air and some releasing the poor horses from twisted shafts. They were all so busy that nobody noticed the missing cage.
Wombi put her paw to her lips, said, “Shh! Follow me,” and crept out of the ditch on the far side.
Keeping low she trotted swiftly away from the road and, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Tambow was following, picked her way through the prickly bushes, towards the open moor.
“Ouch!” The quiet was shattered by a cry from behind her. Tambow, who had been copying his mother by looking over his shoulder too, had walked straight into a large clump of brambles and was now backing out with his nose covered in prickles. He sat down with a thump on the ground and proceeded to pull out the prickles with his paws.
One of the crew of men now working on righting the wagon stopped pushing and said, “Ere, did you ’ear an owch?”
“Wot was that, Reg?” said Arthur, who had been driving the Big Top wagon.
“Oi ’eard an owch from over there,” said Reg, pointing to the moor across the ditch, as Wombi ran back to see what had happened to Tambow.
“It’s the wombats, they’ve escaped! Quick, after them!” yelled Arthur. They all left the stricken wagon and jumped across the ditch in pursuit, just as Wombi reached Tambow.
“Come on!” she cried. “They’re after us, run!”
“But my dose hurts,” he complained, holding a paw to it.
At that moment, Arthur let out a blood-curdling yell. When Tambow looked back to see what all the noise was about and saw all the angry men running towards him, he suddenly forgot about his nose and took off after his mother’s bobbing tail.
That morning, as the sun rose over the edge of the moor, its first warm rays dispersed the lingering night mist and revealed a line of wagons jolting along the potholed road. The heavy horses strained at their shafts as they pulled the gaily painted carts along, their drivers occasionally cracking a whip above their heads and shouting encouragement whenever the wheels threatened to sink into the soft ruts. Leading the procession was a huge traction engine, its canopy festooned with brightly coloured lights and painted on either side with the words,
‘MARVELLO’S MAGICAL CIRCUS’.
Towed behind the engine, which hissed steam and belched out clouds of black smoke, came the biggest wagon of all.
Through the bars at the front of this big wagon, a large grey head sleepily peered out at the countryside as it slowly passed by. His huge ears flapped as smuts of soot floated down on him.
Tuskany the elephant was not in a good mood. He had enjoyed the town where the circus spent the last few days and had made friends with a small boy called Albert, the baker’s son. Every morning, Albert had appeared with a bag full of stale buns and cakes left over from the previous day and smuggled them in to Tuskany when his keeper was not looking. Tuskany, of course, thoroughly enjoyed this treat and had been looking forward to it this morning, when he was rudely awakened and loaded into the wagon, no buns today!
Behind Tuskany came horse drawn carts carrying the lions and tigers, the dancing bear who was so clumsy and trod on everybody’s toes, the chimpanzees who were always cheeky to the clowns, and all the other animals, large and small, who were kept busy in the circus.
The large wagon at the back of the line was laden with all the pieces of wood and canvas that went to make up the red and white striped Big Top, which the men put up every time they stopped at a town. Perched right on the top of this load was a small cage tied on with ropes and in the corner two small furry animals lay curled up on a bed of straw. A painted wooden board tied onto the side of the cage, announced, in rather shaky writing;
‘WOMBATS. HANDLE WITH CARE. THIS WAY UP.’
The smaller wombat opened one dark brown eye and looked at the landscape passing by. As far as the eye could see the moor rolled away, softly hued with greens and mauves and yellows in its summer colours. Trees were few and far between, with stunted, wind-contorted limbs, a reminder of the bleak winters they had to suffer.
He started to get up but a grey paw pressed him back into the straw. “Go back to sleep, Tambow, it’s still early and I expect we’ve got a long way to go.”
“I wish we could go and run about over there,” he said, waving a paw in the direction of the moor. “It’s so boring being cooped up in this little cage every day.”
His mother, Wombi, opened her eyes and looked at him.
“So do I, dear, so do I. Before you were born, I used to live in a land similar to this, but it was much hotter. Then the trappers came and I’ve been stuck in cages ever since.
“It’s not fair,” said Tambow. “The only time they let us out is when they want us to do those silly tricks and then the trainer spends the whole time shouting at me because I’m no good at them.”
Now Tambow had his wish. They raced across the moor with the men in hot pursuit, dodging boulders and wriggling through bushes. Every time they thought they had lost them and ventured gingerly across open ground, a shout would go up from their pursuers and the chase would be on again.
To start with, Tambow thought this was a great game, but after a while his little legs started to feel tired and he was finding it difficult to keep up with Wombi. She kept urging him on and the shouts from behind kept his tired paws moving, but he desperately wanted a rest. How he wished he were small enough to be carried inside his mother’s pouch, like he was when he was a baby.
Ahead, Wombi spotted an outcrop of large tumbled boulders, which looked like an ideal hiding place, but to get there they had to cross a wide flat area, dotted with small bright green grasses. She knew Tambow was tired and the men were catching up, but she urged him on and together they ran towards the cover.
As soon as they were out in the open they heard a triumphant yell from behind. “We’ve got ’em now lads, come on, after them!” The circus men, wearing their heavy boots, thundered across the springy turf behind the wombats, making the ground shake beneath their fleeing paws. They had covered half the distance to the rocks and the men were catching up fast when the wombats came upon a wet patch of grass where their paws sank in a little, slowing them down even more.
“I can’t go any further,” wailed Tambow between pants.
“You must,” hissed Wombi. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a cage?” She glanced over her shoulder and thought it was hopeless. The men were nearly upon them but she stubbornly refused to give up.
Then a strange thing happened. Arthur, only a few paces behind them, his hands already outstretched, suddenly staggered as his boots sank through the bright green grass and into the soft bog beneath, then he tripped and fell flat on his face. The rest of the men tried to stop, but too late! They all found themselves sinking up to their knees in black, sticky mud, some joining Arthur, face first in the bog.
The wombats, being small and light, were able to keep going and a minute later they were safe in the shelter of the boulders looking back at the men floundering in the mire.
They both peeped out from behind a sun-warmed boulder, trying to regain their breath, and looked at the scene below. All the men had stumbled headlong into the bog guarding the rocky outcrop and now wallowed in the mud.
Eventually, all the mucky circus crew removed themselves from the bog and scraped off the worst of the mud. The panting wombats, hidden from view, watched as the grimy men shook fists in their direction and then plodded off across the moor, retracing their steps towards the road.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TAMBOW'S WOMBATICAL WANDERINGS
4. TROUBLE ON THE TRAIN
Wombi shook Tambow awake soon after dawn, anxious to get away from the channel with its rushing water, and the memories of their frightening experiences in the night.
Tambow rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his paw and looked about, unsure for a moment whether he was awake or still dreaming. His dreams, or rather nightmares, had largely featured the snapping jaws of the black hound. He was relieved when he eventually decided he wasn’t asleep and the hound was no longer with them.
He scrambled to his paws and stood patiently while his mother tut-tutted around him, brushing mud and leaves from his fur.
“Really Tambow, you’d think your coat would be a bit cleaner after the number of times you’ve fallen in lately,” she complained.
A bright blue dragonfly hovered a whisker’s length from Tambow’s nose and his eyes crossed as he watched. Then he went “PHOOO!” and the surprised dragonfly was bowled over before it darted away to safety.
“Don’t you phoo me,” said Wombi tetchily, “and why are your eyes funny like that?”
Tambow blinked and his eyes returned to normal. “I was just..., er,” he started to explain then gave up. “Oh, I don’t know, shall we go?”
They walked to the edge of the wood and found a rough path, which zig-zagged down the steep slope a little way from the waterfall. The path was slippery with mossy rocks and in spite of Wombi’s repeated requests to take care, Tambow managed to fall over the edge, crashing through bushes and bracken on his rapid descent.
Wombi hurried on down until the path doubled back on itself, and soon came across Tambow, surrounded by squashed greenery and picking burrs from his fur.
“What took you so long?” he said, bounding up and not waiting for an answer. “This way’s much more fun!” With that he leapt over the edge and was gone, his passing marked by a series of crashes and whoops.
Wombi groaned and hurried on again, calling after him to stop. When the path next crossed back under Tambow’s short cut, she could see from the line of flattened vegetation that he had bounced right over the narrow track and carried straight on down. Worried now, she called out again, and then ran down the path as fast as she could.
The next time the path turned back, there was no sign that Tambow had passed by and so Wombi stopped and looked up the slope, calling his name.
“I’m here.” The reply came feebly from directly above her.
Looking up she saw Tambow entangled in the upper branches of a small silver birch tree. The slope here was so steep that one small bounce had sent him crashing into the treetop, landing on a jay’s nest like an overgrown cuckoo. Fortunately the jay had taken her fledglings out for a flying lesson so nobody was hurt, but the nest was squashed beyond recognition.
“Come down, you silly little wombat!” snapped Wombi, anger replacing her relief at seeing him in one piece.
“Er, right,” replied Tambow, not quite sure how to achieve that as he looked down at the smooth trunk. Pulling a twig out of his ear, he clambered down to the lowest branches, and then cautiously wrapped his back legs around the trunk, his claws digging into the bark as he slid down. Faster and faster he went, until he thought his paws would catch fire, and then with a bump he was at the bottom, sitting in an untidy heap.
He gave Wombi a nervous grin, but she scowled at him and stalked off down the path calling over her shoulder, “Follow me and NO shortcuts!”
So they made their way to the bottom and came at last upon level ground, edged by a line of trees and brushwood. They made straight towards this and there they found a wire fence with an iron gate set in it. Peeping through, they could see the twin lines of the railway track gleaming in the early morning sun. Beyond, they could hear the stream, chattering and bubbling as it followed its path down the valley.
They scrambled through the fence beside the gate and stepped out of the cover of the trees, across the weed strewn gravel towards the railway.
APEEEEEEEP, PEEP-PEEEEEEEEEP!” A shrill whistle sounded from up the valley and the rails trembled in front of the startled wombats. Wombi looked up the line and saw a column of smoke rapidly approaching the curve above them.
“Quick, Tambow, back into the trees!”
They both scampered back, and by the time they turned to look out again, the front of the engine was appearing from around the bend. It was the same black engine which they had seen before, brass still shining, smoke billowing from its funnel and clouds of steam wreathing the big driving wheels. But this time, instead of pulling trucks, three smart chocolate and cream painted coaches followed it into view.
“Wouldn’t it be fun to have a ride on that,” said Tambow, wistfully, “we’d be down to the sea in no time!”
Wombi didn’t reply, knowing it was impossible, but secretly she agreed with him. Her paw, which she had thought was healed, had just started to bother her again.
As the engine approached them, a great whoosh of steam escaped from the cylinders and all the wheels started to squeal. It was slowing down!
Much to the animals’ surprise, the engine stopped just past them and they found themselves staring into the carriage windows from their leafy hiding place. In the first two coaches, they saw smartly dressed people, talking among themselves, reading or gazing out of the windows. The last carriage was full of men in working clothing, and as soon as the train came to a halt, two doors on the side facing the wombats opened, and the occupants of this carriage climbed out.
As the workmen left the train and passed through the iron gate, on their way to a day’s work at the quarries above, the guard walked up beside the carriages to have a word with the engine driver, leaving the two doors open.
Wombi watched as he swung up onto the footplate, his back to them. She turned to Tambow and said urgently, “You wanted a ride on the train, well come on, follow me quickly!”
With that she raced to the end of the train with Tambow close behind, and with a big leap was up on the step and in the carriage. She turned to make sure Tambow had followed her, and side stepped just in time, as he came hurtling through the open doorway.
Footsteps crunching on the gravel told them the guard was returning and then the door at the far end slammed shut. The wombats cautiously trotted up the empty carriage and hid under a seat. They heard the guard climb aboard and blow his whistle.
A whooosh-chuff could be heard coming from the engine and then, with a jolt, the carriage moved forward.
“Oh my!” thought Tambow, “I’m actually moving on a train, this is great!”
When Wombi wasn’t looking, he peeped out and saw that the guard was sitting with his back to them. Quietly, he climbed up onto a seat and looked out of the window.
Puffs of smoke blew past and the trees seemed to rush by. Then the train jolted around a curve and Tambow saw they were crossing a bridge and he was looking down on the stream, their stream that they had followed for so long.
‘This is the way to travel,’ he thought, ‘much better than rafting.’
Suddenly, he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and hoisted in the air. Poor Tambow found himself looking into the guard’s face, angry eyes sparkling above a huge ginger moustache.
“What are you doing on my train?” roared the guard.
Tambow opened his mouth to reply, but before he could even squeak, the guard dropped him and began hopping about on one leg, yelling his head off. Wombi had bitten his ankle!
The connecting door from the other carriage opened and a passenger popped his head around to see what the commotion was about. The wombats, seeing an opportunity to flee from the guard, darted for the open doorway, brushing past the surprised man’s legs.
In the next carriage, startled passengers looked around as the frightened wombats rushed in, hotly pursued by the guard, yelling “Catch them, don’t let them get away!”
One lady, more timid than the rest, screamed and jumped on her seat as the wombats raced by. Others thinking she had been attacked, joined in the screaming, and soon there was bedlam on the train. Women precariously balanced on their seats, shrieking, while the men struck out with walking sticks and rolled up umbrellas at anything that moved. Young children enjoyed the excuse of an uproar to rush around after the wombats, although it was the children who received most of the blows from the sticks.
Through this chaos, the wombats charged about. Under seats, behind baskets, between legs, but quite unable to find a way out.
At length, somebody grabbed the emergency cord and gave it a great heave. The brakes locked on with a squeal, sparks flew from the wheels and the train came to a shuddering halt. Most of the passengers were thrown to the floor in an untidy heap, one large lady knocking the breath out of Tambow, and his world went dark as the folds of her voluminous skirt settled over him. Wisely he lay still.
Muttering and grumbling, the driver climbed down and walked back to see what the trouble was. He opened the carriage door and found a scene of utter chaos. There were screams and curses as arms and legs waved feebly in the air trying to untangle themselves. The guard had been knocked down by a suitcase from the luggage rack, which burst open and deposited its contents upon him. He was struggling to get a tangle of clothing off his head.
“What on earth is going on here?” shouted the driver, over the noise.
Tambow peeped out from beneath the skirt and saw the open doorway. In a trice he was off, yelling, “Come on, Wombi!” and the two wombats tore past the surprised driver, leapt from the step and raced down the embankment, away from the train.
He paused at the bottom and waited for Wombi to catch up, then raced off to the sanctuary of the nearby woods. At the edge of the trees he stopped and looked back. Wombi lagged some distance behind. The train was still standing idly in the distance and smoke rose in a steady column from the engine, but there was no sign of pursuit. The passengers were much too busy sorting themselves out to think of chasing after the strange animals, and the guard was very red faced about the whole incident.
As Wombi caught up with Tambow he noticed she was limping badly.
“Is your paw hurting you again?” he asked, concern showing in his young eyes.
“Yes, I landed heavily on it. Let’s find somewhere to rest for a while,” she replied, putting on a brave face to hide the pain.
A little way inside the wood they came to a steep bank, and at the foot of the bank was a cosy looking hole. They crept in and settled down, able to relax at last.
In the half-light, Tambow said quietly, “I thought it would be exciting to ride on a train, but I didn’t think it would be that exciting!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wombi shook Tambow awake soon after dawn, anxious to get away from the channel with its rushing water, and the memories of their frightening experiences in the night.
Tambow rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his paw and looked about, unsure for a moment whether he was awake or still dreaming. His dreams, or rather nightmares, had largely featured the snapping jaws of the black hound. He was relieved when he eventually decided he wasn’t asleep and the hound was no longer with them.
He scrambled to his paws and stood patiently while his mother tut-tutted around him, brushing mud and leaves from his fur.
“Really Tambow, you’d think your coat would be a bit cleaner after the number of times you’ve fallen in lately,” she complained.
A bright blue dragonfly hovered a whisker’s length from Tambow’s nose and his eyes crossed as he watched. Then he went “PHOOO!” and the surprised dragonfly was bowled over before it darted away to safety.
“Don’t you phoo me,” said Wombi tetchily, “and why are your eyes funny like that?”
Tambow blinked and his eyes returned to normal. “I was just..., er,” he started to explain then gave up. “Oh, I don’t know, shall we go?”
They walked to the edge of the wood and found a rough path, which zig-zagged down the steep slope a little way from the waterfall. The path was slippery with mossy rocks and in spite of Wombi’s repeated requests to take care, Tambow managed to fall over the edge, crashing through bushes and bracken on his rapid descent.
Wombi hurried on down until the path doubled back on itself, and soon came across Tambow, surrounded by squashed greenery and picking burrs from his fur.
“What took you so long?” he said, bounding up and not waiting for an answer. “This way’s much more fun!” With that he leapt over the edge and was gone, his passing marked by a series of crashes and whoops.
Wombi groaned and hurried on again, calling after him to stop. When the path next crossed back under Tambow’s short cut, she could see from the line of flattened vegetation that he had bounced right over the narrow track and carried straight on down. Worried now, she called out again, and then ran down the path as fast as she could.
The next time the path turned back, there was no sign that Tambow had passed by and so Wombi stopped and looked up the slope, calling his name.
“I’m here.” The reply came feebly from directly above her.
Looking up she saw Tambow entangled in the upper branches of a small silver birch tree. The slope here was so steep that one small bounce had sent him crashing into the treetop, landing on a jay’s nest like an overgrown cuckoo. Fortunately the jay had taken her fledglings out for a flying lesson so nobody was hurt, but the nest was squashed beyond recognition.
“Come down, you silly little wombat!” snapped Wombi, anger replacing her relief at seeing him in one piece.
“Er, right,” replied Tambow, not quite sure how to achieve that as he looked down at the smooth trunk. Pulling a twig out of his ear, he clambered down to the lowest branches, and then cautiously wrapped his back legs around the trunk, his claws digging into the bark as he slid down. Faster and faster he went, until he thought his paws would catch fire, and then with a bump he was at the bottom, sitting in an untidy heap.
He gave Wombi a nervous grin, but she scowled at him and stalked off down the path calling over her shoulder, “Follow me and NO shortcuts!”
So they made their way to the bottom and came at last upon level ground, edged by a line of trees and brushwood. They made straight towards this and there they found a wire fence with an iron gate set in it. Peeping through, they could see the twin lines of the railway track gleaming in the early morning sun. Beyond, they could hear the stream, chattering and bubbling as it followed its path down the valley.
They scrambled through the fence beside the gate and stepped out of the cover of the trees, across the weed strewn gravel towards the railway.
APEEEEEEEP, PEEP-PEEEEEEEEEP!” A shrill whistle sounded from up the valley and the rails trembled in front of the startled wombats. Wombi looked up the line and saw a column of smoke rapidly approaching the curve above them.
“Quick, Tambow, back into the trees!”
They both scampered back, and by the time they turned to look out again, the front of the engine was appearing from around the bend. It was the same black engine which they had seen before, brass still shining, smoke billowing from its funnel and clouds of steam wreathing the big driving wheels. But this time, instead of pulling trucks, three smart chocolate and cream painted coaches followed it into view.
“Wouldn’t it be fun to have a ride on that,” said Tambow, wistfully, “we’d be down to the sea in no time!”
Wombi didn’t reply, knowing it was impossible, but secretly she agreed with him. Her paw, which she had thought was healed, had just started to bother her again.
As the engine approached them, a great whoosh of steam escaped from the cylinders and all the wheels started to squeal. It was slowing down!
Much to the animals’ surprise, the engine stopped just past them and they found themselves staring into the carriage windows from their leafy hiding place. In the first two coaches, they saw smartly dressed people, talking among themselves, reading or gazing out of the windows. The last carriage was full of men in working clothing, and as soon as the train came to a halt, two doors on the side facing the wombats opened, and the occupants of this carriage climbed out.
As the workmen left the train and passed through the iron gate, on their way to a day’s work at the quarries above, the guard walked up beside the carriages to have a word with the engine driver, leaving the two doors open.
Wombi watched as he swung up onto the footplate, his back to them. She turned to Tambow and said urgently, “You wanted a ride on the train, well come on, follow me quickly!”
With that she raced to the end of the train with Tambow close behind, and with a big leap was up on the step and in the carriage. She turned to make sure Tambow had followed her, and side stepped just in time, as he came hurtling through the open doorway.
Footsteps crunching on the gravel told them the guard was returning and then the door at the far end slammed shut. The wombats cautiously trotted up the empty carriage and hid under a seat. They heard the guard climb aboard and blow his whistle.
A whooosh-chuff could be heard coming from the engine and then, with a jolt, the carriage moved forward.
“Oh my!” thought Tambow, “I’m actually moving on a train, this is great!”
When Wombi wasn’t looking, he peeped out and saw that the guard was sitting with his back to them. Quietly, he climbed up onto a seat and looked out of the window.
Puffs of smoke blew past and the trees seemed to rush by. Then the train jolted around a curve and Tambow saw they were crossing a bridge and he was looking down on the stream, their stream that they had followed for so long.
‘This is the way to travel,’ he thought, ‘much better than rafting.’
Suddenly, he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and hoisted in the air. Poor Tambow found himself looking into the guard’s face, angry eyes sparkling above a huge ginger moustache.
“What are you doing on my train?” roared the guard.
Tambow opened his mouth to reply, but before he could even squeak, the guard dropped him and began hopping about on one leg, yelling his head off. Wombi had bitten his ankle!
The connecting door from the other carriage opened and a passenger popped his head around to see what the commotion was about. The wombats, seeing an opportunity to flee from the guard, darted for the open doorway, brushing past the surprised man’s legs.
In the next carriage, startled passengers looked around as the frightened wombats rushed in, hotly pursued by the guard, yelling “Catch them, don’t let them get away!”
One lady, more timid than the rest, screamed and jumped on her seat as the wombats raced by. Others thinking she had been attacked, joined in the screaming, and soon there was bedlam on the train. Women precariously balanced on their seats, shrieking, while the men struck out with walking sticks and rolled up umbrellas at anything that moved. Young children enjoyed the excuse of an uproar to rush around after the wombats, although it was the children who received most of the blows from the sticks.
Through this chaos, the wombats charged about. Under seats, behind baskets, between legs, but quite unable to find a way out.
At length, somebody grabbed the emergency cord and gave it a great heave. The brakes locked on with a squeal, sparks flew from the wheels and the train came to a shuddering halt. Most of the passengers were thrown to the floor in an untidy heap, one large lady knocking the breath out of Tambow, and his world went dark as the folds of her voluminous skirt settled over him. Wisely he lay still.
Muttering and grumbling, the driver climbed down and walked back to see what the trouble was. He opened the carriage door and found a scene of utter chaos. There were screams and curses as arms and legs waved feebly in the air trying to untangle themselves. The guard had been knocked down by a suitcase from the luggage rack, which burst open and deposited its contents upon him. He was struggling to get a tangle of clothing off his head.
“What on earth is going on here?” shouted the driver, over the noise.
Tambow peeped out from beneath the skirt and saw the open doorway. In a trice he was off, yelling, “Come on, Wombi!” and the two wombats tore past the surprised driver, leapt from the step and raced down the embankment, away from the train.
He paused at the bottom and waited for Wombi to catch up, then raced off to the sanctuary of the nearby woods. At the edge of the trees he stopped and looked back. Wombi lagged some distance behind. The train was still standing idly in the distance and smoke rose in a steady column from the engine, but there was no sign of pursuit. The passengers were much too busy sorting themselves out to think of chasing after the strange animals, and the guard was very red faced about the whole incident.
As Wombi caught up with Tambow he noticed she was limping badly.
“Is your paw hurting you again?” he asked, concern showing in his young eyes.
“Yes, I landed heavily on it. Let’s find somewhere to rest for a while,” she replied, putting on a brave face to hide the pain.
A little way inside the wood they came to a steep bank, and at the foot of the bank was a cosy looking hole. They crept in and settled down, able to relax at last.
In the half-light, Tambow said quietly, “I thought it would be exciting to ride on a train, but I didn’t think it would be that exciting!”
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