The Captain of the Black Swan: The Dittos of Dawlish, #1

By Diana Townsend and David Hardie

Can an invisible orphan save his town from rock-eating monsters?

When Tom, an orphan Ditto, shelters from a fierce storm in a rabbit burrow, he emerges to find Dawlish has been wrecked. Many Ditto houses have been blown down from the trees and their owners race to salvage their homes before they are discovered by humans.

Hearing the storm has also washed away the railway line, Tom hurries to view the damage. Swooping low on his flying scooter, he spots a huge crater below the twisted rails with strange tracks leading away from it. Could the old legends be true? Has the storm released monsters from below the earth? Or are other forces at work?

Calling on his friends, Tom sets out to find the truth before humans discover what has happened and the very existence of Dittos and other magical creatures is put at risk.

The Captain of the Black Swan is the first in the Dittos of Dawlish trilogy. Its lovable characters, engaging storylines and magical world will captivate young readers.

Order a copy today and explore a new world of magic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ussons
• Release date: Jul 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781739489533

Diana Townsend

From childhood, siblings David Hardie and Diana Townsend loved telling stories. While still at school, despite being dyslexic, David won a competition to have a play he had written produced by the BBC. As teenagers, David and Diana helped their father build an animated model of a three-ring circus which was exhibited around the UK. Later, the family bought a derelict school which they transformed into a tourist attraction. Diana has written a series of memoirs about these years under the title Me, My Family and the Poltergeist. When the tourist attraction closed, the family started a new business creating Christmas displays for shopping centres as well as hand-sculpting thousands of figures for model villages across the UK. In more recent years, David and Diana, together with Diana’s husband, Robert Townsend, have produced a number of short films and two feature films. While David’s children were young, he told them stories of the Dittos, invisible elf-like creatures who live in the seaside town of Dawlish, helping to look after wildlife and clean up after visitors. Working with Diana, David has now developed these stories into a trilogy of books under the title The Dittos of Dawlish.

Book preview

Chapter 1

THE STORM

If Tom had been a human child without a relative to look after him, he would have been adopted, or sent to live with a foster family. But Tom was not a human. He was a ditto. And humans and dittos are very different.

While most humans want to be seen and recognised in the world, dittos prefer not to be seen at all. Like their distant relatives the elves and fairies, they have discovered that there are advantages to being small and invisible.

The dittos of Dawlish were surprised when Tom’s parents appeared one summer morning. Human visitors arrived every year by train or car, but ditto visitors were a novelty.

Some of the locals saw the couple carrying a small child near the sea wall, and again at the far end of town, where they chatted to a shopkeeper about the weather. What the family did after that is unclear, but, later in the afternoon, the boy was found by himself on the beach.

Despite the best efforts of the Mayor and the rest of the ditto community, his parents were never found. Riders were sent on flying scooters to scour the cliffs and beaches, but they came back empty handed, and in time, the facts of the disappearance were lost in a haze of rumours.

The boy was little more than a baby, and when no one claimed him, he was taken in by Burt Carter, and grew up sleeping in the back room of the recycling factory.

Even by ditto standards, Tom was small. On the day he started work, he was barely tall enough to look a hedgehog in the eye, but what he lacked in height he made up for in spirit.

Some of the ditto mothers referred to him as ‘that poor little orphan’, but Tom never felt sorry for himself, and although he didn’t realise it he had freedoms the other ditto children envied. Once he had finished work each day, he could do as he pleased. No one ever asked where he went or what he did.

When he saw other ditto children out with their parents, he pitied them. He imagined how much they must hate having adults telling them what to do all the time.

Dawlish is a seaside town with a sandy beach and tall red cliffs. It is a wonderful place for holidays, and, on summer evenings, Tom swam in rock pools with soft-shelled crabs, or feasted on the remains of picnics left by humans.

In autumn, he helped himself to blackberries from the bushes growing on the cliffs, and sometimes, in winter, he slept in a burrow with a family of rabbits. It was far warmer, snuggled against their soft fur, than lying on the pile of sacks Burt had given him as a bed. As long as he was back at the factory in time to start work each morning, no one ever noticed.

And that was how Tom came to be sleeping in a burrow beneath a chestnut tree on the night of the Great Storm.

The rain fell gently at first, wetting the earth and rippling the surface of the brook that ran through the town. Then, as clouds blotted out the moon, the raindrops became heavier, splashing across the wet roads and gathering in puddles on the town lawn.

As the wind rose, the rabbits wriggled closer, sensing the approaching storm, and Tom pulled his jacket tight around him. He could hear the branches of the great chestnut tree clattering as they were tossed back and forth, and he felt a strange quaking as the roots around him strained in the earth.

For a moment, he was tempted to run back to the recycling factory, but the wind was howling and he feared he would be blown away if he ventured outside. Listening to the clatters and clangs, creaks and crashes, he guessed branches were being torn from trees nearby and he imagined debris swirling everywhere. Perhaps the crashes were slates or chimneys tumbling down from the human houses?

He closed his eyes, but sleep was impossible. Even in the depth of the burrow, the roar of the wind was deafening.

Suddenly, a juddering crash shook the earth. Dirt and stones showered from the roof of the burrow and the baby rabbits scrambled against their parents in fear. Holding his breath, Tom listened in the darkness, trying to guess what was happening above.

The old tree had been blown over. He was sure of that, but how much damage had it done? Was the entrance to the burrow blocked? He had no way of knowing.

Trying not to panic, Tom clenched his hands into fists and breathed slowly, in and out. Far above, the storm raged on. There was nothing he could do but stay where he was, even when the rain soaked deep into the earth and the warm burrow became wet and chilled.

It was not until the storm finally eased that Tom crawled along the shattered tunnel towards the burrow entrance. The roof had collapsed in places, but to his relief, he could see glimmers of light and it was not long before he cleared a way through the roots and crawled out into the crisp morning air. Behind him, the rabbits stopped, their noses twitching as they surveyed the scene ahead.

Dawlish was barely recognisable.

The wide lawn in the centre of the town was hidden beneath a tangle of broken branches, crumpled signs, television aerials, upended shopping trolleys, wheelie bins, and assorted rubbish. It seemed the wind had lifted anything and everything in its way and dumped it all in a huge jumbled mess.

The chestnut tree was spread across the ground like a fallen giant, but several smaller trees had also seen their last summer, and lay splintered and smashed where they had landed.

To the side of the lawn, the brook was transformed into a raging torrent. An enormous tree trunk was jammed beneath a bridge, and smaller branches and twigs had piled behind it, blocking the waterway. On either side, the paths were flooded with swirling water that overflowed the grass in every direction.

In the distance, humans were busy stacking sandbags in front of doors.

Tom had never seen such devastation.

So that’s where you are, lad. Burt’s voice made him jump. Come on. We have to get started.

Tom turned to him, his dark hair tousled, his face still smeared with dirt from the burrow.

But what about breakfast?

No time. Burt snorted, and hitched his trousers up over his round belly. There’s some useful stuff here. We have to move as much as possible to the recycling factory before the humans get in the way.

He pointed to a mountain of dead leaves, beneath which something shiny gleamed invitingly.

Here. We can start with this.

Scraping the leaves away, Burt revealed a battered steel pedal bin, several times taller than himself.

What a beauty! he grinned.

Tom eyed the bin doubtfully. The pedal mechanism was missing, and the lid was dented and scratched.

Did you hear the crashes during the night? he asked. I thought the whole town was being blown down.

Burt nodded as he cleared more of the bin.

And you should have seen the sea, lad. The waves were monstrous. They were so big, they broke right through the sea wall.

Tom’s eyes opened wide.

You’re joking!

No, I’m not. There’s hardly anything left of the railway line. It’s been washed clean away. The humans are going to be in a right state when they see it. Here! Where are you off to? 

To look at the railway! Tom called over his shoulder, but Burt’s hand clasped firmly around his wrist.

Oh no, you’re not. There’s work to be done here first.

For the next hour, Burt strode around the lawn, examining anything he thought might be useful. Plastic flowerpots, a weathervane, bean nets, rubber gloves, a baby’s rattle, a washing up brush, even a retractable washing line caught his eye.

Tom followed behind him, dragging everything Burt selected into a pile, wrapping it in a net, then towing it by scooter to the far side of the lawn before stacking it under the bushes next to the duck enclosure.

It’ll be safe from the humans there, Burt said happily.

As he worked, Tom noticed other dittos making emergency repairs to their homes. Plastic bags were stretched over damaged roofs, broken windows patched with sticky tape. Barely a house had escaped untouched.

Tom was wondering how long it would be before everything returned to normal when Burt’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Quick! Over here!

A human approached with a trolley. He had a broom and shovel and was gathering rubbish as he went. In front of him, the shiny pedal bin still lay on the grass.

Quick! Disappear it! Burt ordered, throwing Tom a spray cannister. Pumping the handle of the cannister, Tom sprayed frantically. Soon, the whole bin glowed with Auntie Dot’s Invisibility Potion.

Good work. The human won’t see it now, Burt crowed triumphantly.

But why do you want it? Tom asked.

Because it’s a thing of beauty. Look at it. So shiny. Every little bit of it.

But what are you going to do with it?

You’ll see, Burt replied mysteriously. Then his expression changed as he spotted something behind Tom.

No!

Swinging around, Tom saw that the human was no longer pushing his trolley along the path. Instead, he was striding straight towards them.

Stop him! He’s going to kick it! Burt squealed, but it was too late. The human’s foot slammed into the pedal bin, and the unexpected thump threw him off balance. With a shocked gasp, he crashed to the ground.

Quick! Get a rope on it, Burt called as he ran off. His flying scooter lay on the grass nearby and he jumped on board. He soared into the air, then headed back to where Tom was tying a rope to the pedal bin. Swooping low, he grabbed the end of the rope and dragged the bin into the air as the human climbed to his feet.

The puzzled expression on the man’s face as he paced across the grass, trying to find what had tripped him, was too much for Tom. He let out a loud burst of giggles. The man stopped at once and peered around.

Clamping his hands over his mouth, Tom stifled his laughter, but he was still shaking with suppressed glee when the man shook his head and walked away.

By the time Burt let him stop for something to eat, Tom’s stomach was rumbling loudly. As always, breakfast was a slice of acorn bread with carrot marmalade, but Tom was so hungry, he would happily have shared a bowl of pond slime with the ducks.

Burt sat beside him on a log as they ate, his large boots planted firmly on the muddy grass.

The Black Swan should be here any minute, he said between mouthfuls. Then we can move all this stuff to the recycling factory.

She’s here now, Tom replied, pointing to a flying ship soaring through the air towards them.

The ship glowed faintly in the early morning light, and on the bridge Tom could see the captain, his grey hair tied back from his face in a ponytail, his hands on the tiller as the ship’s great wooden wings beat up and down.

The Black Swan sank slowly towards the ground, then hovered above the sodden grass.

I’m afraid there’s going to be a delay, moving your salvage, the captain called down to Burt. A house has been blown down, and I’ve agreed to lift it. Will you secure it once it’s in place?

Of course I will, Burt agreed. Where is it?

The captain pointed to the bushes beside the brook.

It’s in that lot. Somewhere.

Can I help? Tom asked through a mouthful of crumbs.

Do you have any use for him? Burt called up.

The captain nodded.

I can always find work for willing hands. Stand by. I’ll let a rope down for you.

A moment later, a knotted rope curled down to the ground. Tom climbed it without hesitation. Pulling himself over the rail onto the ship’s deck, he grinned at the captain.

An irate voice floated up from the ground below.

Are you going to hover there all day, or are you actually going to do something useful?

Tom peered over the ship’s rail. Below him, a thin ditto with a sour face and an enormous top hat stared up.

Recognising the figure as the school teacher, Tom waved cheerfully. 

Good morning, Mr Payne.

There’s nothing good about it! the teacher snarled. My house has been wrecked and I’ve been waiting all night for it to be rescued. When are you going to stop wasting time and do something?

Tom turned to the captain.

I think he wants to know how long it will take.

I heard, the captain grunted. "Tell him he’s lucky we’re here at all."

Tom hesitated.

The captain glanced at him, and Tom wasn’t sure if he was smiling or frowning. The old man’s face was so wrinkled, it was hard to tell.

Never mind. I’ll tell him myself later, the captain growled. You’d better give the mate a hand to attach the ropes. The sooner we get this done, the better.

Tom hurried across to the mate and listened attentively as he explained which ropes were needed and where they had to go. Then he carried the coils to the various hitching points and tied them in place.

Ready yet? called the captain.

Aye, she’s good to go, the mate called back.

The captain pushed a lever, and the Black Swan’s wings rose high into the air with only the slightest of creaks. Then he pulled the lever back, and the wings powered down, lifting the ship gracefully upwards.

And about time too, the teacher’s voice drifted up to them.

Feeling the deck dip beneath his feet, Tom grabbed the ship’s rail. The Black Swan banked sharply to the right, and below him he could see, not only the town lawn, but the streets of houses that surrounded it.

The damage caused by the storm was clear. Hardly a garden had been spared. Apple trees had been splintered, trellises wrecked, decorative urns and summer houses destroyed. Telephone lines and power cables lay across roads, guttering dangled at crazy angles, and sheds and greenhouses had been reduced to piles of shattered wood and broken glass.

But there was no time to reflect on the view. The Black Swan turned and plunged back towards the ground. As it skimmed over the bushes, Tom peered down, looking for any sign of the teacher’s house.

There it is! he yelled, spotting a chimney deep among the greenery.

The captain swung the ship around and brought it to a hover above the house.

It’s going to be tricky, the mate muttered. It’s caught under a mighty big branch.

The captain sighed.

Then you’ll have to get down there and cut it free, won’t you.

Me? the mate protested. Why me? 

I can do it if you like, Tom offered, but the mate only laughed. First trip out and you think you know everything, don’t you.

It’s not my first trip. I helped out a lot last summer, didn’t I?

Aye, you did that, the captain agreed.

Helping wasn’t what I would have called it, the mate sniffed.

Maybe not, but I’m sure I can cut through one branch, Tom persisted.

Alright then. Go and find yourself a saw. There should be one in the locker.

What’s going on up there? The teacher’s voice rose from below them. Can you see it yet?

We can see it, but it’s stuck, Tom shouted.

Then unstick it, you idiot! For goodness’ sake! It can’t be that difficult.

Is he like this at school? the mate scowled, but Tom only laughed.

How would I know? he asked. I’ve never been to school.