Copyright

First published in Great Britain by William Collins Sons and Co. Ltd in 1966 New edition published by Collins in 1998

This edition first published by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2008 This edition published in 2018

Collins and HarperCollins Children’s Books are divisionsof HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF.

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Text copyright © Michael Bond 1966

Illustrations copyright © Peggy Fortnum and William Collins Sons and Co. Ltd 1966

The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.

Cover illustration adapted and coloured by Mark Burgess from the original by Peggy Fortnum

Originated by Dot Gradations Ltd, UK Printed in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Source ISBN: 9780006753674

EBook Edition © OCTOBER 2011 ISBN: 9780007403011

Version: 2019-05-24

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

1. A Bear at Sea

2. Anchors Away

3. Paddington Buys a Share

4. A Visit to the Stock Exchange

5. Paddington in a Hole

6. Too Much Off the Top

7. Paddington Steps Out

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Other Books by Michael Bond

About the Publisher

Chapter One A BEAR AT SEA

PADDINGTON WOKE WITH a start and after blinking several times in order to accustom his eyes to the evening light, peered round the deck of the liner Karenia with a puzzled expression on his face.

If he hadn’t known it was quite impossible, for the ship was still over two days’ sailing-time away from England, let alone number thirty-two Windsor Gardens in London, he would have sworn he’d just heard his name being called, quite loudly, not only by Mr Brown, but by the rest of the family – Mrs Brown, Jonathan and Judy, not to mention Mrs Bird into the bargain.

Normally Paddington was rather keen on dreams. Some of the ones he’d had in the past had been very good value indeed, especially after one of Mrs Bird’s heavy suppers. But as he looked around the deserted deck of the great ship he began to decide that the one he’d just experienced seemed almost too real for his liking.

It was that time in the day when the half-light from the setting sun plays strange tricks with the shadows, and with most of the other passengers still below and not even so much as the friendly white coat of a steward anywhere in sight, Paddington almost wished he hadn’t partaken of a second helping of the suet pudding which the chef had prepared especially for him that evening.

Pausing only to dip one paw into a nearby jar of marmalade, he pulled his duffle coat hood more firmly over his head and then settled back again in the deck chair as he turned his attention to a large tin marked OSBORNE BISCUITS – PROPERTY OF P. BROWN ESQ. WANTED ON VOYAGE, which stood near by.

Paddington liked Osborne biscuits, especially when they were covered in a thick layer of marmalade chunks, and soon a steady munching sound broke the stillness of the evening air.

The journey to Darkest Peru in order to take part in his Aunt Lucy’s birthday celebrations at the Home for Retired Bears in Lima had been a long and enjoyable one, but all the same, now that he was nearing the end of the return voyage, Paddington was beginning to feel more and more excited at the prospect of seeing all his old friends once again, and after a moment’s thought he put this down as the cause of his unusually lifelike dream.

Gradually the combination of a large and most enjoyable dinner, the sea air, and the distant throb of the engines far below, all had a soothing effect. In no time at all he was fast asleep again, and not even the plonk of an Osborne biscuit as it slipped from his paw and rolled across the deck towards the scuppers served to waken him.

Paddington wasn’t quite sure when it happened, or how long it lasted, but suddenly he found himself in the middle of yet another dream and to his surprise it once again had to do with the Browns.

As a dream it was, if anything, even more vivid than the first one.

It all started when he dropped one of his biscuits at the top of a steep hill near Windsor Gardens. Instead of breaking or even falling over on its side, it landed edge downwards and immediately started rolling after him. Worse still, with every passing second it grew larger and larger, and as it grew larger so it rolled faster until in the end Paddington found himself running down the Portobello Road, in and out of all the market stalls, as fast as his legs would carry him.

All the time, although he couldn’t see them, he could distinctly hear the voices of the Brown family calling out his name.

And then the worst happened. One moment he was running along the road mopping his brow and glancing anxiously over his shoulder at the pursuing biscuit, the next moment it was just as if he had stepped into a great pool of treacle. The more he tried to move his legs, the more impossible it became, until quite suddenly he woke with a start and found himself sitting on the deck almost completely enveloped in his duffle coat.

As he struggled free, Paddington discovered to his surprise that not only had he got one of his paws stuck inside the jar of marmalade but that in his excitement he’d also knocked over the tin of biscuits and quite a number of them had rolled out on to the deck.

It was a large tin and it had been given to him by his Aunt Lucy as a parting gift just before he set sail on the return voyage to England. Even though he’d had to dip into it quite heavily on a number of occasions, there were still several layers left, and Paddington had no wish to lose any of them before the end of the journey so he spent the next few seconds hastily gathering up the remains.

It was as he picked up the last of the biscuits that he suddenly froze in his tracks and stared along the deck at a group of five very familiar figures who had suddenly appeared out of a patch of shadow near the stern.

Before he even had time to blink, the figures all began waving frantically and calling his name as they moved towards him in a body.

Pinching himself several times in order to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, Paddington looked wildly about the ship for somewhere to hide and then, hastily scooping the remains of the marmalade back into the jar with one paw, he replaced the lid on his tin of Osbornes with the other and disappeared through a nearby door as fast as his legs would carry him.

A few seconds later he emerged on the other side of the ship, took one last look along the deck in case he was still being pursued, and then paused before yet another door which had a red cross over the top and the words SHIP’S DOCTOR written in large red letters on the panelling.

Paddington was a brave bear at heart and when something out of the ordinary happened he was usually only too ready to investigate the matter on his own account, but the events of the past few minutes had been altogether too impossible to explain for his liking and he was anxious to seek a second opinion on the matter.

The Ship’s Doctor looked most surprised when the door opened and Paddington entered his cabin. “Have you got an appointment, bear?” he asked briskly.

Paddington placed his belongings on the floor and put a paw to his lips as he bent down to lock the door. Because of his fur it was a bit difficult for him to actually look as white as a sheet, but there was something about the end of his nose and the way he stood that caused the Doctor to jump up from his seat in alarm.

“Good gracious!” he exclaimed.”What on earth is the matter?”

Paddington crossed the cabin towards the Doctor and collapsed into a chair in front of the desk. “I don’t think it’s anything on earth,” he replied ominously, casting an anxious glance over his shoulder.

The Doctor sat down again and eyed Paddington nervously. “I must say,” he began, in an attempt at jollity, “you look rather as if you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“I have,” said Paddington, feeling a bit better now that he’d reached the safety of the well-lit cabin. “Five of them!”

“Five?” echoed the Doctor. “Dear me. I think perhaps you’d better tell me all about it.”

“Well,” began Paddington, taking a deep breath. “It happened soon after I was chased by an Osborne.”

“Soon after you were chased by a what?” exclaimed the Doctor.

“An Osborne biscuit,” repeated Paddington patiently.

The Doctor gave a nervous, rather high-pitched laugh. “You’re sure it wasn’t a Bath Oliver or a Garibaldi?” he asked.

Paddington gave him a hard stare. “It was an Osborne,” he said firmly as he held up his tin. “It says so on the label. My Aunt Lucy gave them to me. It fell out of the tin and then it chased me all the way down the Portobello Road.”

The Doctor looked at Paddington and then at the cabin door, almost as if he were measuring the distance. Although they’d passed quite close to each other several times on the voyage, it was the first time they’d actually spoken, and there was something about Paddington’s unwinking stare which was beginning to make him feel rather uneasy. “You were followed all down the Portobello Road by an Osborne biscuit?” he repeated casually.

“That’s right,” said Paddington, pleased that he’d got his point over at last. “It was only a small one to start with, but it got bigger and bigger. Then I couldn’t move my paws.”

“Couldn’t move paws,” repeated the Doctor, busily writing it all down.

“They felt as if they had lead weights on them,” continued Paddington.

“Lead… weights…” echoed the doctor, still writing. “Good. I’ll see what a little embrocation will do.”

“Oh, that’s all right, thank you very much,” said Paddington cheerfully. “They’re better now. It was only because I’d stepped in my marmalade by mistake. I got one of my paws stuck in the jar.”

The Ship’s Doctor removed his glasses, blew on them, and then stared first at Paddington’s outstretched paw and then at his highly polished floor where several marmalade chunks lay where they had fallen during Paddington’s hasty entrance.

“Did anything else happen after that?” he asked distastefully.

Paddington nodded. “I saw all the Browns!” he announced impressively.

“Browns?” repeated the Doctor, not quite sure if he’d heard aright. “No greens or blues?”

Paddington gave the Doctor another even harder stare. “Browns,” he repeated firmly. “There were four of them. And Mrs Bird.”

“Mrs Bird!” exclaimed the Doctor. “You’re sure it wasn’t a seagull? It may have stayed on board after we stopped at the last port. They often do.”

“A seagull!” exclaimed Paddington hotly. “It was Mrs Bird. From number thirty-two Windsor Gardens. I was sitting on the deck…”

“Ah!” The Doctor’s face cleared as if by magic. “You’ve been sitting on the deck, have you?

“Yes,” said Paddington. “I was having a bit of a nap after dinner. And then I had a dream – only it wasn’t one really.”

“All day?” asked the Doctor. “In the sun?”

“Well, I did have a bit of a sunbathe this morning after I’d been to the baker’s,” admitted Paddington. “And then another one this afternoon.”

“You’ve been suffering from hallucinations, bear,” said the Doctor briskly, looking quite pleased that he’d solved the problem at last. “I’ve met this sort of thing before. Too much sun and people begin to imagine all sorts of things. Though I must say I don’t think I’ve ever come across anyone who thought they were being chased by an Osborne biscuit.”

He opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a bottle. “Sleep, that’s what you need, bear – plenty of sleep. I’ll give you some tablets to help you along.”

Paddington’s face had been growing longer and longer during the Doctor’s recital and at the mention of the word ‘sleep’ it reached its longest ever. He’d had quite enough sleep for one day even if some of the dreams had been hallucinations.

“But I did see the Browns,” he complained, looking most upset. “And it wasn’t a dream because I pinched myself. And they couldn’t have been there because they’re in London. So they must have been ghosts.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the Doctor briskly. “There’s no such thing as…” His voice broke off and a strange expression suddenly came over his face as he stared at something beyond Paddington’s right shoulder.

He gave a gulp, rubbed his glasses again, and then gripped the edge of the table. “Er… how many ghosts did you think you saw?”

“Five,” replied Paddington, running through his list.

As Paddington mentioned each name in turn the Doctor’s face seemed to go an even paler shade of white until by the time he reached Mrs Bird’s name all the colour had drained away.

“You did lock the door when you came in, didn’t you?” he asked casually.

“I think so,” said Paddington, beginning to look worried himself at the expression on the Doctor’s face. “It’s a bit difficult with paws, but…”

Paddington looked round and as he did so he nearly fell backwards out of his chair with surprise. For there, before his very eyes, neatly framed in a large porthole next to the door, were five very familiar faces. Not just Mr Brown, whose face, pressed hard against the glass, had taken on an unusually flat and puddingy appearance, but Mrs Brown, Jonathan, Judy and Mrs Bird as well.

Reaching across the table the Doctor picked up a telephone. “Get me the Master at Arms at once, please,” he barked. “And tell him to hurry. There’s something nasty going on outside my porthole.

“It’s all right, bear,” he continued. “There’s no need to be alarmed.” Slamming the telephone receiver back on to its cradle the Ship’s Doctor turned back to Paddington and then broke off in mid-speech.

He had been about to explain that help was on the way, but from the glazed expression on Paddington’s face as he lay back in the chair with his paws in the air it looked very much as if one occupant of the cabin at least was beyond caring.

Mrs Brown dabbed at Paddington’s forehead with some eau-de-Cologne as he sat up in his bunk and stared round the cabin.

“Thank goodness,” she exclaimed. “We thought you were never coming round.”

“Every time you caught sight of us you fell over again,” said Judy. “We were getting jolly worried.”

Paddington rubbed his eyes as if he could still hardly believe them. “I thought you were a halluci-something,” he explained.

Mrs Brown turned to her husband. “It’s all your fault, Henry,” she said. “If we’d gone to the Purser’s office in the first place as I suggested all this would never have happened.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” complained Mr Brown. “How was I to know Paddington would think we were all ghosts?”

Mr Brown was looking a trifle fed up. It had been his idea that the Brown family should combine their summer holiday with a trip home on Paddington’s liner, meeting it at a point when it was still two days away from England.

At the time it had seemed a very good idea and when they’d boarded the liner late that afternoon at its last port of call they had all been looking forward not only to the experience but also to seeing the look on Paddington’s face when they confronted him. They hadn’t bargained on his reacting in quite the way he had and Mr Brown was tending to get most of the blame.

“Well,” said Mrs Bird, “I must say that if I thought someone was hundreds of miles away and then I suddenly met them face to face in the middle of an ocean I’d be upset.”

“And at night,” said Judy. “I bet it was jolly frightening.”

“Besides, I don’t think Paddington was the only one to be taken in,” added Jonathan. “I don’t think the Ship’s Doctor was too keen on us either.”

“I’ve always heard sailors are supposed to be superstitious,” said Mrs Brown, surveying her husband as he helped himself to a sandwich from a pile next to Paddington’s bunk, “but you don’t look much like a ghost to me, Henry.”

“I don’t think the Doctor thought so when he got over the first shock,” said Judy. “He looked jolly cross.”

The Browns’ laughter was suddenly broken into by a tap on the cabin door.

“I expect that’s my cocoa,” said Paddington importantly. “The steward always brings me some before I go to bed.”

The others exchanged glances as the door opened and a man in a white coat entered carrying a tray laden with a large jug of steaming hot liquid.

“This is the life,” exclaimed Mr Brown. “I must say I’m looking forward to the rest of the voyage. Sunshine and deck games all day. Bear’s cocoa last thing at night to round things off. Even a ghost couldn’t ask for more!”

Paddington nodded happily as the steward sorted out some extra mugs and began to pour. He was keen on cocoa at the best of times, especially ship’s cocoa, which somehow always had a taste of its own, and now that the problem of the ghosts had been solved he was looking forward to his nightcap, particularly as it also celebrated the unexpected early meeting with the Brown family.

He eyed the jug from behind a cloud of rich, brown steam. “There’s only one thing nicer, Mr Brown,” he announced amid general agreement. “And that’s two cups!”

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