Sophie's Long Flight Chapter 22

“Dad tell me about your long flight.” Sophie said to Boy one bed time. Every member of the Brigade does a long flight, or a long walk before they grow up. It is part of their education. When they come home, all the useful information they have learned stored away in the Brigades archives, under the Pteranadon's cliffs.

“But I've often told you about it Sophie.” Boy said.

“Please tell me again.” Sophie replied.

“When I was your age,” Boy said “I wanted very much to go to the historic side of the swamp. I often used to talk to Woolly Mammoth about it. He was already a famous traveler, and told me wonderful stories about his adventures. One day he said to me

“I think it is time for you to do your long flight James.” As you know only a few people call me James which is my real name, and then only on important occasions. 

“Come with me,” he said and turning, led me away to where the Pteranadon's cliffs rise out of the plain. Walking up to the rock face, he turned a small key in it, and the rock slid aside. I followed him into an enormous cave, and the rock door closed behind us. When my eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light, I saw that the cave was festooned with cobwebs. Down from the largest of these swung a big grey spider, and Woolly Mammoth introduced me to Charlotte, keeper of the Brigade’s archives. 

“Charlotte is the cleverest spider I have ever met, and no one can tell such interesting stories as she can. When the younger members of the Brigade return from their long flight or long walk, they go to Charlotte and tell her everything about it. Then Charlotte spins a web. It is a record of their adventures, their escapes and accidents, and how they found their way on their journey. When it is finished, she rolls it up and stores it in the archives. I spent a happy week with Charlotte. She showed me through the maze of caves, full of neatly rolled up webs, many spun by her distant ancestors in olden days. Of course, the most interesting to me were those of my own relations, all of them expert navigators. From them I learnt how to find my way to the historic side of the swamp. Charlotte showed me Woolly Mammoth's webs, he already had a whole shelf full, and ones that she had spun for Rex, Queenie, Clara and Bron, who had taken their walks a little while before me. By the end of the week I felt well prepared for my adventure. Charlotte opened the cave door for me, wished me good luck, and said that she looked forward to spinning a web for me when I returned.”

“I hurried home to say goodbye to my family and friends, impatient to set out on my long flight. Then I soared high above the cliffs, and set my course for the historic side of the swamp. It took a long while, and I had many adventures on the way. Sometimes crossing oceans I had more than enough to eat of my favourite fish, and at other times, I crossed burning deserts, and had nothing but scorpions to eat for days. At last I flew into a thick mist, and had nothing to guide me but the magnet that is inside our heads. I began to feel excited, as I was sure that now I was crossing to the historic side of the swamp. Then below me I began to see small patches of bright green through the mist. They were fields and trees and forests, and as I glided downwards, I saw a large building standing beside a lake. I suddenly felt very tired, and decided that this was the place to land. 

I hardly had time to fold my wings and go for a drink at the lake before a man in a long black robe came running towards me, beaming happily.”

“Welcome to Newstead Priory,” he said. “I am Brother Francis, and you must be the Pteranadon who is sent to answer my prayers.”

It was Sophie's bed time, but she was not tired.

“Please go on Dad,” she said.

“Well,” said Boy, “I was surprised to be told that I had been sent to answer somebody's prayers, and asked Brother Francis how I could do this. I am writing a history on flight in six volumes,” he said, “It is called “From Insects to Birds.” And I'm stuck at Pteranodons because I have never seen one, only a fossil.” Saying this Brother Francis looked down and blushed a little, and I wondered whether the fossil he had seen was my Great Aunt Aggie, who went to the historic side of the swamp, and never came back.

“I prayed every day for a Pteranadon to come and help me, and even though Brother Sydney said that one never would, I felt sure that my prayers would be answered, and that when you came, you would know how to deal with unbelievers like him.” He pointed across the lawn to another monk who was holding a basket, and gazing at me in astonishment. The monk walked slowly towards us.

“Good evening, Brother,” he said, “I am sorry that I was rude to you. I shall never doubt the power of prayer again.”

“I forgive you,” smiled Brother Francis. Brother Sydney looked relieved, and offered us berries from his basket, they were the best I have ever tasted.

“Strawberries.” he said, “have some more.” And so I finished them off.

The next day I started to help Brother Francis with his chapter on Pteranadons. In fact I wrote most of it myself, whilst he drew a portrait of me to put in the book.

I stayed at the priory all summer with Brother Francis and the monks, and of all the adventures on my long flight, I enjoyed going to Newstead the most.”

“Dad,” interrupted Sophie, “I would like to go on my long flight to Newstead.”

“Strawberries,” he said, “have some more.”

“One day,” Boy said.

“No, now,” said Sophie. Boy thought for a long time, then he said,

“You are still very young, but you are very sensible, and have had a lot of experience already. Perhaps”

“Will you take me to see Charlotte tomorrow, Dad?”

“Very well,” Boy said. She snuggled down.

“I think I'll go to sleep now then and wake up early. Good night Dad.” Sophie said.

In the morning Boy and Sophie flew to the Brigade's Archives under the Pteranadons cliffs. Boy turned his key in the little lock and the rock slid open. Sophie went into the cave with Boy and gazed around at the lacy cobwebs hung from every jutting rock and corner. A large grey spider swung down from one of them.

“Good morning James,” she said “I have been expecting you. Every one tells me you have a daughter ready to make her long flight.”

“Is that so?” Boy asked, and Sophie knew that he felt rather proud.

“Oh yes,” Charlotte answered. “Pringle was here yesterday, telling me that she could go to Siberia and back without any help.”

“It is true ,” Boy said, “This is my daughter, Sophie Pteranadon, and I would like you to prepare her for her long flight, Charlotte.”

“Of course, I shall be delighted.” Charlotte had the most charming smile, for a spider, and as she turned from Boy to Sophie, she gave her a tiny spidery kiss on the cheek.

After Boy had left, Charlotte showed Sophie round the Archives. The first web Sophie wanted to look at was her Dad's. It was very beautiful, with pictures of the Priory and it's stained glass windows, the monks, and all the people he had met at Newstead, besides the other places he had travelled through.

Sophie looked at Clara's web which told how she had joined a travelling Jazz Band, and journeyed round the swamp for a year, until she reached the land of the Hadrosaurs, where she met Uncle Bron, who was singing in a male voice choir. They returned to the swamp together, and later got married.

Sophie slept well that night in the caves, wrapped in warm cobwebs woven by Charlotte and her helpers, and in the morning she started her lessons with Charlotte in a small cave where a web was hung from the ceiling. Sophie looked up at the web. It was covered with numbers and signs. Sophie didn't have the faintest idea what they meant. But at the end of the morning, after Charlotte's patient explanations, she began to understand that when she charted her way to Newstead, on the historic side of the swamp, she would have to do her sums with especial care, if she wanted to arrive at the same time as her Dad had. Just a small mistake could mean that she arrived three or four hundred years before or after him.

All week Sophie worked hard, and went to sleep early every night, but not before Charlotte had tucked her in and told one of her wonderful stories. 

At the end of the week Charlotte said she was ready to go on her long flight, and opened the cave.

“Have lots of adventures,” she said to Sophie, “then I can weave a really splendid web for you.” The next day Sophie set out on her long flight.

It was evening when Sophie arrived at the Priory, and although she was sure that she had found the right place, it did not look to her quite as her Dad had described it. The church had no roof, and only the west wall was still standing. But the other buildings were there, and the lakes and garden were the same.

She noticed a young man sitting beside the lake. He was very pale with black curly hair. A notebook was on his knee. Sophie landed beside him. 

“Good evening,” she said politely, “My name is Sophie Pteranadon, could you tell me if this is Newstead Priory?” The young man looked at her. He had a rather haughty expression, and if he felt surprised at being spoken to by a Pteranadon, he was certainly not going to show it.

“Good evening Sophie,” he said, “This building was a Priory once, but the Monks left it in 1537, nearly three hundred years ago, and now it belongs to me. My name is Byron.” Then Sophie told Byron herstory. He was very interested to hear about Sophie'slong flight, and how her father had been to the priory long ago. “It’s a shame you got your sums a bit wrong,” he said, “but I am pleased that I am here now to meet you.” He invited her to stay as long as she wished, and said that as he was having a party that night, would she like to come? Sophie said 

“Thank you.” and explained that she was rather tired after her flight, and would like to look around the gardens and take a walk beside that lake, before she found a tree to roost in for the night. Lord Byron watched as she walked along the verge of the lake, her wings folded gracefully like an enormous cloak. He chewed his pencil a bit, then he wrote,

She walks in beauty, like the night

of cloudless climes and starry skies:

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes.”

It was a good beginning, he thought. He would finish it later, and he went inside to prepare for his party.

Sophie was pleased that the tree she had chosen was a long way from the Abbey. As it grew dark the party became very noisy. She heard roars of laughter, and sometimes bangs, and the tinkle of breaking glass. She gazed down across the peaceful lake, and thought that she could see a movement in the shadows. A dark shape was coming towards her, a man in a black gown. Sophie had never seen a ghost before, but she knew that she was seeing one now, and she felt excited. She peered down through the branches. 

“Brother Francis?” she called quietly. The ghost looked up. A broad smile spread across his face.

“Can another Pteranadon have been sent to answer my prayer?” he asked.

“I am Sophie, the daughter of Boy Pteranadon, and I came here to meet you, but I thought I had got the time wrong because I met Byron instead.”

“Then my prayers have been answered.” Brother Francis said. He told Sophie how, soon after his books 

were finished, King Henry the Eighth's soldiers had driven the monks from the priory, and to keep his works safe he had stored the volumes in a secret cave not far away. He was an old man and had died before he had told anyone where to find them. Now he came back to haunt the Abbey, hoping to find someone he could trust to recover the volumes and take them to the British Museum. 

“Lord Byron is always too busy writing poetry, or holding noisy parties to be able to see me,” he told Sophie, “and the others I have tried to speak to run away.”

“I can't think why,” Sophie said, “I will tell Byron in the morning that you would like to speak to him, and bring him here to meet you.”

“I shall be here as soon as it gets dark. Good night, Sophie.” said Brother Francis, and disappeared.

Next morning, Sophie caught a large fish for breakfast, and went 

into the garden to pick some strawberries. There she met Byron, who looked paler than ever. But when he heard Sophie's story, he brightened up at the thought of meeting Brother Francis, and saving his wonderful books.

That evening, they sat together by the lake, and as it grew darker, Sophie got Lord Byron to talk to her about his unhappy childhood, and how he became a Lord, and his sudden fame as a poet. This was not difficult to do, and she knew that Charlotte would find the information very interesting.

Lord Byron's account was so absorbing, that they both jumped when a voice behind them said,

“Good evening,” and Brother Francis stood smiling beside them. He led them in silence along the lake, past the stables, and past another smaller lake to the secret caves. There, while Byron held up a lantern, the ghost showed him a rock in the top corner, which he said his books were hidden behind. When Byron and Sophie moved it away, sure enough, there were the precious volumes, in perfect condition, as on the day they were put there. Byron said

“I am going to London next week to see my publishers, and I will deliver these to the British Museum for you, Brother Francis.” Brother Francis thanked him and Sophie for their help, and said that it was time for him to go.

“Come back and see us again one day,” Byron said, “I shall keep a better look-out for you in future.” The three said goodbye to each other, and Brother Francis walked out of the cave, disappearing as he went.

As Sophie helped Lord Byron carry the volumes back to the Abbey, he asked her whether she would like to come to London with him. He could show her the British Museum, and all the sights. He had been invited to a ball by the Prince Regent, and would be delighted to take Sophie with him. Sophie said that she would love to go.

Byron's carriage stood waiting at the Abbey door, packed with luggage, and ready to take him and Sophie to London. They decided to sit together on the roof, as Sophie was too big to get inside, and as it was a beautiful day. Off they rattled down the long drive, through the Abbey gates, and onto the road that leads to London.

Their first stop when they reached London was at the British Museum, where they delivered Brother Francis's “History of Flight.” to the Curator.

“Incredible!” he gasped, as he turned the pages “and the chapter on Pteranadons is a masterpiece.” He showed Lord Byron and Sophie round the museum. As they moved from room to room through the vast building, Sophie noticed one or two old gentlemen with grey whiskers looking at them curiously. Other old gentlemen came to join them, and followed at a discreet distance, whispering together. Eventually one of them approached.

“Lord Byron,” he said, “news has already spread of the wonderful books you have brought to the Museum, and of your guest Miss Pteranadon. Would you be kind enough to introduce us to her?” Byron introduced Sophie to the President of the Royal Geographical Society, and the other gentlemen, who were members of the Committee. The President asked Sophie whether she would have time to address the Society while she was in London. Sophie said that she would be pleased to talk to them next Saturday on the subject of “The Long Flight.”

Sophie asked the Curator if she could roost in the British Museum while she stayed in London. Lord Byron had rooms in St. James   Street, but she knew that she would be too big to get inside. The Curator was delighted. He showed her their largest room, which was enormous. 

“Even Uncle Bron could walk around in here,” she said. 

“It is your own private flat, Sophie,” the Curator said, “Whenever you wish to use it.”

That night Sophie slept comfortably in the museum, and in the morning, a large trolley was wheeled in by the Curator and his wife, with Sophie's breakfast of kippers, eggs, bacon, toast and orange juice.

After breakfast, Lord Byron arrived in his carriage to show Sophie the sights of London.

“We shall drive through Hyde Park,” he said, “Everyone who wishes to see and be seen goes there, and you and I will create a sensation.”. He showed her the Tower of London, and Madam Tussaud's and then they had tea on the balcony of the Houses of Parliament, overlooking the River Thames.

That night they went to the Prince Regent's ball where Sophie danced every dance. It was very much like the Hurly Burly at home, she thought, except that the dances were called by different names. In the intervals Sophie ate gallons of strawberry ice cream, it was heavenly. Sophie noticed a lot of ladies were wearing grey cloaks and had their hair piled up on the top of their heads, and sprinkled with pale grey powder. Several of them had wound strings of pearls around their hair. Lord Byron found this very amusing.

“You have started a new fashion, Sophie,” he said.

On Saturday, Sophie gave her lecture to the Royal Geographical Society. The Museum was packed, and she spoke for an hour to an enraptured audience. Afterwards, she answered questions for two hours. Then the President gave a speech of thanks, and made her an honorary member of the Royal Geographical Society. The first Pteranadon to be so honored.

Next day, Sophie and Lord Byron returned to Newstead. They both felt in need of a rest after their exciting trip.

When Sophie returned to the swamp, Charlotte wove her a beautiful web showing all her adventures, and tucked in a corner, the recipe for strawberry ice cream.