The Drustone

Chapter Two. Debriefing.

Chapter Two 

Debriefing 

British schoolboys have a fondness for nicknames. Very rarely do they address each other using their given names. These strange monikers often reflect physical attributes, such as Ginger Jones or Flea Butterfield. Others indicate a behavioural trait; Gobbo Lancaster, Swot Park. Sometimes the origin is obscure, as in the cases of Ginny Steeple and Crudger Hodgson. 

P.C. was an obvious choice for anyone with a given name of Peter Constable. The name Rev was self-inflicted. Miss Wade, the boys' third form teacher, had once asked of their plans for the future. The answers were what you would expect from a group of ten- year old boys; pilots, train drivers, and ship builders were popular choices. John Baird however had to be different. 

"I want to become a vicar." 

This pronouncement was greeted with stony silence, followed by a furtive class giggle. 

"That's an unusual choice, John. Could you tell the class why?" 

"Because I would like to be called Reverend, Miss." 

So, Rev he became. 

Henry (who was never nicknamed), Rev and P.C. were members of one of the two village gangs that traditionally spent the summer in an elaborate war game. Each gang would build a secret camp in the countryside surrounding the village, and arm themselves with wooden swords, shields made from discarded dustbin lids, bucket helmets, wooden bows and catapults. Numerous attempts were made to capture the opposing camp before the end of the summer holidays. Last year's campaign had been a disaster. After five weeks of frenzied preparation the final showdown had been washed out by a prolonged period of stormy weather. It may as well have been a cricket match. Rain had stopped play. 

Frustrated by this experience, Rev, Henry and P.C., had decided to break with tradition, and take up Uncle Steve's offer of summer adventure. They did this with some trepidation as Henry's uncle was a compulsive practical joker and had caught them out many times in the past. He was a lot of fun though. 

The boys found him relaxing in his favourite seat, by the pot-bellied stove in the woodshed. Being summer, the fire was out, so the room didn't seem so cosy, but the combined fragrance of freshly split wood, and Uncle Steve's favourite tobacco gave a sense of comfort. 

"Well, lads, how did it go today?" 

"Not too well, Uncle Steve. We couldn't see anything from the circle so we spent most of the time in the cave." 

"Too bad. But the stone circle can wait. Did you find out anything to explain the mystery of the moor?" 

"Mystery?" queried Rev. 

"Yes, mystery. There is something really queer about the moor. Didn't you notice? There are no houses on it. The sheep don't like to graze there. It's rich in limestone yet there are no quarries."  

Rev was bursting to offer explanations, but Uncle Steve continued.  

"It's like someone has said that it cannot be touched. During the war submarines were being built at Barrow shipyards and were targeted by the Luftwaffe. To fool the Germans, we lit fires on the moor so that they would drop their bombs there, rather than on the docks. Not one bomb fell on the moor." 

"Is it because of the stone circle? Is it magic?" asked Henry. 

"Who knows?" said Uncle Steve, pausing to puff his pipe.  

"I don't believe in magic, Mr. Dover."  

Uncle Steve was called Mr.D by most boys in the village, but not by Rev. He preferred to call him, Mr. Dover. 

"I'm sure you don't, Rev, but I can't come up with any other explanation for some of the things I have discovered on the moor and hereabouts." 

"I bet I can explain them,' said Rev.  

Uncle Steve gave an enigmatic smile. 

"So tell me then, Rev. What did you think of the cave?" 

"Henry thought it was used by cavemen, but I don't think so. Most of the stuff inside the cave, the bones and the paintings, were put there recently and I think a certain someone was trying to trick us." 

Uncle Steve chuckled. "You're a smart young fella, Rev. My friend, Molyneaux, and I found that cave many years ago, when we were in our teens. We thought it might be fun to pretend it was a prehistoric cave, and do wall paintings like they found in France. 

"See, I told you two the paint was fresh, didn't I?" chortled Rev. 

"But what sort of animals were they supposed to be?" asked P.C. 

"They are meant to be pictures of wild boar and segh; two animals that were known to live in these parts up until about 500 years ago." 

"What's a segh?" the boys asked almost in unison. 

"A giant deer. Sets of their antlers have been found in the district." 

"But what about the tunnels, and the steps, Uncle Steve? I'm sure you and Molyneux didn't carve them out of the solid rock." 

"You're quite right, Henry. The passages were there then, just as you saw them today. We had a lot of fun exploring them. They're perfectly safe as long as you're careful. Maybe tomorrow you could go back up to the circle, do your mapping, and then explore them." 

"We'll need some better lighting, Mr.D." said P.C. "My flashlight wasn't really strong enough." 

Uncle Steve went over to a self-made cupboard beside the woodpile and took out a couple of hurricane lamps. 

"These are pretty good, P.C., but do you think you'll be able to carry them on your bikes without spilling the fuel?" 

"Sure. We'll be careful. How long will they last?" 

"If you each take one, and use them one at a time, you should be able to travel through the complete network of tunnels. I would take your flashlight too, just in case. Any other questions?" 

P.C. put up his hand as if he was in class. "Just one. My mother is getting very upset about these onions. She says they make me stink and that your idea that they protect us from evil is pure hogwash." 

"Is that so? Didn't Rev say something about bones in the cave?" 

"Yes. I found them." 

"Well we didn't put them there."

Uncle Steve paused.

" Did they smell of onions?"