Danger Money , livre ebook

Ransom Publishing Limited - Mary Chapman

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22 pages

English

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Bob Thompson's father was a fisherman, and so was his father before him. So when Bob joins the crew of the fishing smack the Admiral, it seems perfectly natural. Especially as this is World War I, the Admiral is armed - and Bob gets extra danger money. The first time out, they sink a German sub. It's money for jam, Bob thinks. Until the day the Admiral meets two German subs. Now the crew really will earn their danger money. Recently republished as a new edition, this book is one of the Shades 2.0 series. This book is perfect for reluctant teens who still want an exciting, unpatronising story that is relevant to their interests and concerns, but who don't want to read a longer novel. With a length of only 6,000 words, and filled with drama, this story will appeal to all reluctant teen readers.

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Publié par	Ransom Publishing Limited
Date de parution	01 octobre 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781781274583
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0300€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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For Martin, with love
CONTENTS

Title Page Dedication One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Author’s Note Copyright
ONE
‘Look out, Jim!’ shouted Bob.
Baskets, piled with fish, swung over their heads from the fishing smack moored alongside the lower landing. The boys darted over the slippery wet stones, ducking their heads, grabbing the small silvery herrings that fell out of the basket and stuffing them into the bag they carried between them.
‘That’s full enough now,’ said Bob. ‘We’ll get threepence at least from old Sam. Come on, Jim! We’ve got to get there first.’
Sam sold fish to the very poorest of the poor in Eastcliff. He bought it as cheaply as he could, and struck a hard bargain.
Pushing their way through the noisy, crowded fish market they hurried from the harbour. The bag of fish bounced back and forth between them as they ran. By the time they turned down the narrow passage that led to Sam’s small, dark shop Jim was gasping for breath.
‘Only tuppence!’ grumbled Bob as they came out of the shop.
He removed his left boot, carefully placed the two pennies inside and then put his boot back on again.
‘What are we gonna do?’ asked Jim. ‘We can’t go home with just tuppence.

Whatever’ll our Mam say?’
‘I know,’ said Bob. ‘We’ll go up the Tower. Come on, Jim.’
Back at the harbour they made their way to the old wooden coastguard lookout, known to everyone as the Tower, and ran up the wooden steps to the top. From there they could see right out to the cold, grey North Sea.
At first they saw only a dark smudge in the distance, but as it came nearer they could make out its shape more clearly.
‘It’s got a long mizzen gaff,’ said Bob.
‘And patches on the mizzen,’ added Jim.
‘I can see the number now,’ said Bob. ‘ EF 217 ! It’s the Hilda Rose . Fred Hudson from Chapel Lane’s on that.’
‘Let’s go tell his missus,’ said Jim.
They pounded down the stairs, raced along the jetty to Chapel Lane and knocked on the front door of the first cottage in the row.
‘Missus, come quick!’ shouted Bob. ‘Your husband’s comin’ in.’
Mrs Hudson opened the door.
‘We seen the Hilda Rose ,’ gasped Jim. ‘We’ve bin up on the Tower.’
‘We’ve come straight here,’ said Bob.
‘Just a minute,’ said Mrs Hudson. ‘I’ll get my purse.’
Bob and Jim grinned at each other.
‘That’s for you boys for runnin’ up,’ said Mrs Hudson, handing a penny to Bob.
‘Mam’ll be pleased,’ said Jim. ‘We’ve got threepence now.’
‘Let’s go back to the Tower,’ said Bob, ‘and see if we can make it fourpence.’

At the Tower two fishermen were standing at the bottom of the stairs. They were smartly dressed in warm overcoats and soft leather high-heeled boots. One of them even had a velvet collar to his coat and gold rings in his ears. A gold ring gleamed on the little finger of his left hand.
As Bob and Jim squeezed past them, the man with the ring spoke.
‘I don’t know what we’re goin’ to do, Alf, now Wilf’s laid up. We’re due to sail day after tomorrow.’
‘I don’t know of any young lads who’d do it at this short notice, Skipper,’ said Alf.
‘Do what?’ asked Bob.