Ian Fleming - Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

But all went well and they flew on up the coast looking for a place to land to have their picnic beside the sparkling blue sea. But everywhere— St. Margaret’s Bay, Walmer, Deal, Sandwich, Ramsgate—all the beaches were crowded with fanlilies who had had the same idea as the Pott family, and CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG’S passengers became more and more gloomy as they saw the beautiful sands with their bathers and paddlers and shrimpers, and the rock pools that were certainly crawling with exciting crabs and eels and valuable shells, all crowded with rival holiday makers. And they all longed for a swim and to unpack the bulging picnic basket full of Mimsie’s delicious goodies.

Then a curious thing happened. The steering wheel twisted, actually twisted, in Commander Pott’s hands as if CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG realized their disappointment and was taking control herself, and do you know what? CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG turned away from the coast and soared away over the English Channel straight out to sea .

The family held their breath with excitement and Commander Pott wrestled with the wheel and began to look rather nervous. But then the green light started to blink on the dashboard, and now, instead of saying “PULL DOWN” as it had said before, it said “PUSH UP.”

And gently Commander Pott pushed up the little silver lever and gently CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG began to lose height and plane softly downwards.

“Heavens!” cried Mimsie. “She’s going to drop us in the sea! Now we really are in a mess! Get ready to swim, everyone. The cushions will float! Each one hang on to a cushion! The Deal lifeboat will see us and if we keep afloat we’ll be all right!”

“Don’t worry, Mimsie darling,” shouted Commander Pott against the roar of the wind. “It’ll be all right. I think I know what

CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG has got in mind. Look there where we’re heading for. Those are the Goodwin Sands—acres of beautiful sand that get uncovered during a low tide like this. Why, in summer they even have a football match on the sands. Dover and Deal play each other and get the game over before the tide comes in. Then they row away in boats. And there’s the famous South Goodwin Lightship. It’s got one of the loudest fog horns in the world and a great revolving light to warn ships away. See the masts of the sunken wrecks sticking up all along the edge of the sands? Probably more ships have been sunk on those sands—from Roman times on—than on any other dangerous rock or reef, or sands, or shoals in the world. All through the ages, it’s been a regular graveyard for ships

“Any chance of finding treasure?” asked Jeremy excitedly.

“I’m afraid there’s not a hope,” said Commander Pott sadly. “Whenever there’s a shipwreck on the Goodwins, particularly on dark or foggy nights, when of course most of the wrecks happen, wreck burglars—they have been known as ‘wreckers’ since olden times—swarm out from the coast in their sailing boats (they don’t use motorboats, so as to be as silent as possible and not warn the men on the lightship who might otherwise radio for a Royal Navy cutter or M.T.B. to come out from Dover and arrest the wreckers and put a guard on board the wreck). These wreckers come slipping softly out and steal everything they can find—they just simply strip the wrecked ship of all its cargo and everything movable and then silently steal away before dawn. So then, when the of official salvage craft and tugs, pull out from Dover in the morning to save what they can and perhaps even try and pull the Ship off the sands, they find an

empty house, so to speak. The wreckers—the sea burglers—have stripped her clean as a plucked chicken, and of course, when the the police go hunting along the coast for wreckers, no one knows anything about it and there isn’t a sign of the loot because its all been rushed off inland to hideouts by the wrecker’s trucks that have been called up secretly. That’s how it goes. Just the same as in the bad old days when the wreckers used to shift buoys and warning lights at night to guide ships on to shoals and rocks. That was centuries ago—but the rascals are still at it. Dangerous work of course, putting out from the coast in a sloop or a cutter In a thick fog or storm, but these wreck burglars are tough, bad men and they ready to take a chance in exchange for a fat cargo of fine meat and butter from Denmark, or radios and television sets from Germany, or even, sometimes, bars of gold being shipped over to an English bank.”

While Commander Pott had been telling these exciting things, CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG had been planing gently down toward the big expanse of beautiful golden sand lapped by the soft blue ripples of the English Channel and fringed by the masts and the half-sunken hulls of the wrecks that show up at low tide. The crew of the bright, redpainted lightship came up on deck and waved excitedly to them as they soared low overhead and then, as the green light on the dashboard went on winking and Commander Pott gently took his foot off the accelerator, the wheels automatically lowered themselves into position again and they came in to land on the hard, flat, golden surface. The aerocar ran a little way on the sand and then, as Commander Pott put on the brakes, CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG came to a gentle stop at the edge of the sea. At once, the red light on the dashboard showed again and now it said “PUSH UP” (no “IDIOT” this time).

Commander Pott pushed up the little silver lever and there came the same low hum as the front and back wings slowly folded back to become mudguards again and the big propeller and generator out front slipped back until the two halves of the radiator closed over them. CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG gave a last two big sneezes and two soft bangs, then Commander Pott switched off the engine, and there was a perfectly good gleaming green car sitting quietly on the huge sandbank in the middle of the sea.

The whole family let out a big “POUFF” of relief and excitement and piled out of the magical car on to the warm sand.

Then, even before they got into their swimming things and began exploring, all the family, of one accord, went up and patted CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG’S warm green hood just as if she’d been alive, and they all said, “Thank you, dear CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG, you’re a real marvel!”

And, do you know, CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG seemed to let out a long sort of metallic sigh of contentment, which I expect was really only a little steam escaping from the hot radiator, and her big gleaming headlights seemed to dip slightly in modesty and shyness, just as Jemima’s eyes do when she’s complimented on doing particularly well at her lessons, or her dancing class, or at singing a song, or Jeremy’s when he wins a prize for lessons or games.

Then the whole family made a dash to change into their swimming things. And after they had all swum about like dolphins and clambered about among the wrecks, where Jeremy found some quite interesting bits of machinery, and Jemima discovered an old compass that Commander Pott said he could easily clean up and repair, they sat down round Mimsie’s basket in the middle of the sands and between them they ate up every single hard-boiled egg, every single cold sausage, and every single strawberry jam puff. Then, happy and contented, they all lay down in the sunshine and, drowsy and full of good things, and really quite exhausted with all the excitements of the day, one by one they dozed off for a little rest before doing some more swimming and hunting for treasures.

No one noticed that the tide was creeping in over the sands.

No one noticed that the masts of the wrecks were getting lower in the water.