Dip and Pull to Granny’s Rock
Sam had the most important job in the whole boat.
He sat very straight on the back seat with Granny’s birthday cake on his knees. It was a round cake with blue icing. On top was one candle, shaped like a fish.
“Keep it flat,” said Dad.
“Flat as a plate,” said Sam. And he did not let it tip. Not even a tiny bit.
It was night in the little round harbour. The sky was full of stars. The boats were all tied up, and every mast had a lamp on top. Out past the harbour wall there was a rock. On the rock there was a lighthouse, and in the lighthouse lived Granny.
Tomorrow was Granny’s birthday. Sam wanted the cake on her kitchen table before she woke up. Then the very first thing she saw on her birthday would be the cake.
Dad pushed off from the steps. He dipped the oars into the water, and he pulled.
Dip and pull, dip and pull.
Dad hummed one note for every pull. Hum, hum, hummm. Then the same three notes again. He only knew three, and three was plenty.
A little wave came up beside the boat.
“Please be gentle,” Sam said to it.
The wave was gentle. It went by with hardly a wobble.
“Thank you,” said Sam.
Sam counted the lamps on the masts as they rowed past. One lamp, two lamps, three lamps. Each one made a yellow stripe on the water. Nine lamps, ten lamps, eleven lamps. That was all of them. Then he checked the fish candle. It was still pointing at Granny’s house.
A round grey head popped up out of the water. It had long whiskers and two shiny button eyes.
“Hello, Bob,” said Dad.
Bob was the harbour seal. Bob liked to follow boats. Bob could not say a single word, but Bob understood every one.
“Bob, where are you going?” said Sam.
Bob just looked at him.
“Bob only does yes and no,” said Dad. “One sneeze is yes. Two sneezes is no.”
Sam thought about that.
“Bob, are you coming with us?” said Sam.
“Atchoo!” One sneeze.
“Bob, are you a fish?” said Sam.
“Atchoo! Atchoo!” Two sneezes.
Sam laughed so much he had to hold the cake extra still.
By the harbour wall was a bigger boat with a lantern on the back. Its little engine went putt-putt-putt. That was Mr. Pike, who fished at night.
“Where are you off to?” said Mr. Pike.
“Granny’s,” said Sam. “This is her birthday cake. I have to keep it flat.”
Mr. Pike looked at the cake. He looked at the fish candle. He nodded, very serious.
“Catch,” he said, and he threw them a rope.
Dad caught it and tied it on. Putt-putt-putt went Mr. Pike’s boat, and the little boat came along behind, all the way to the end of the harbour wall. Dad rested his oars. He hummed anyway.
At the end of the wall, Mr. Pike untied the rope. “My nets are here,” he said. “Tell your Granny happy birthday from me.”
“I will,” said Sam.
Outside the wall, the sea was wider. The lighthouse was still a long way off.
Dip and pull, dip and pull. Hum, hum, hummm.
But the tide was going out. It was pulling the other way, back toward the harbour. Dad pulled one way and the tide pulled the other, and the little boat hardly moved at all.
Dip. And pull. Dip. And pull. Dad’s humming got slower and slower.
“My arms are tired, Sam,” said Dad. He stopped to rest them.
Then along came one small, cheeky wave. Sam did not even have time to say please. The wave jumped up and went splosh, right next to the cake.
Sam held the plate very, very still. Not one drop landed on the icing. The fish candle was still pointing at Granny’s house.
“That wave was not listening,” said Sam.
He looked over the side. There was Bob, swimming along next to them, whiskers and all. Sam thought hard. It had to be a question for yes or no.
“Bob,” said Sam, “will you help us get to Granny’s?”
“Atchoo!” One sneeze.
Bob swam round to the back of the boat, put a round grey nose against it, and pushed.
The little boat began to move. Dad rowed and Bob pushed, and the tide could not pull them back. Dip and pull, dip and pull. Hum, hum, hummm. The lighthouse got bigger and bigger.
Then the big lamp at the top did something Sam had never seen it do. It blinked slowly, three times. On and off. On and off. On and off.
That was just how Granny waved from her window. Three slow waves, every time.
“Twelve lamps,” said Sam. “And that one is the best.”
Sam could not wave back, because of the cake. So he blinked three slow blinks at the lighthouse instead.
Bob pushed them right up to Granny’s steps. Dad tied the boat to the iron ring.
“Thank you, Bob,” said Sam. “Would you like some cake in the morning?”
“Atchoo!” One sneeze. Then Bob flopped onto the flat rock by the steps and shut both eyes.
Sam and Dad crept up the steps on tiptoe. By Granny’s door, an old teapot hung on a nail. Dad lifted the lid, and there was the key. Click went the door.
From Granny’s room came a long, soft sound. Hoooo-mmm. Hoooo-mmm. Granny was snoring like a little foghorn.
Sam set the cake down on Granny’s table. He turned the plate a tiny bit, so the fish candle pointed at Granny’s door. When she came out in the morning, the very first thing she would see was her cake.
Dad gave Sam a big hug. “Flat as a plate,” said Dad. “The whole way. I’m glad you came, Sam.”
The spare bunk was built like a little boat. It had a wooden rail along the side and a round window at the end. Dad tucked Sam in under Granny’s patchwork quilt.
Sam was asleep before Dad had one boot off.
The cake sat flat on Granny’s table. Granny snored her soft foghorn snore. Down on the rock, Bob slept with whiskers twitching. Dad pulled off his other boot and hummed three notes, very quietly. Hum, hum, hummm.
And in the little boat-shaped bunk, Sam breathed slow and soft, all the way to morning. Dip and pull. Dip and pull.