off, Paddington. Hold on, everyone!”
“Do what, Mr Brown?” cried Paddington, above the splashing of the water. Having a picnic on the river was much more complicated than he had expected. There were so many ropes to pull he was getting a bit confused. First of all Mr Brown told him to untie the rope. Now he had shouted to everyone to hold on.
Paddington closed his eyes and held on to the rope with both paws as tightly as he could.
He wasn’t quite sure what happened next. One moment he was standing on the boat -the next moment it wasn’t there any more.
“Henry!” shouted Mrs Brown, as there was a loud splash. “For goodness’ sake! Paddington’s fallen in the water!”
“Bear overboard!” cried Jonathan, as the boat shot away from the bank.
“Hold on, Paddington!” called Judy. We’re coming.
“But I did hold on,” cried Paddington, as he came up spluttering for air. “That’s how I fell in.”
Mrs Brown lunged into the water with her sunshade. “Do hurry, Henry,” she cried.
“I’m sure Paddington can’t swim,” said Judy.
“What did you say?” called Paddington.
“She said ‘you can’t swim’,” yelled Mr Brown.
When he heard what Mr Brown said Paddington began waving his paws wildly in the air and there was a gurgle as he promptly sank.
“There now, Henry,” exclaimed Mrs Brown. “Now look what you’ve done. He was all right until you spoke.”
“I like that!” said Mr Brown, giving his wife an expressive look.
“It’s all right,” shouted Jonathan. “Someone’s thrown him a lifebelt!”
By the time the Browns reached the landing stage Paddington had already been rescued and he was lying on his back surrounded by a large crowd. Everyone was staring down at him making suggestions while the man in charge of the boats pulled his paws back and forth, giving him artificial respiration.
“Thank goodness he’s safe,” exclaimed Mrs Brown thankfully.
“Don’t see why ’e shouldn’t be,” said the man. “If ’e’d layed ’isself down it’d only ’ve come up to ’is whiskers. The water’s only about nine inches deep just ’ere. Probably a lot less now – judging by the amount ’e’s swallowed. Kept ’is mouth open when ’e went under, I dare say.”
Judy bent down and looked at Paddington. “I think he’s trying to say something,” she said.
“Grrr,” said Paddington as he sat up.
“Now just you lay still for a moment, young feller-me-bear,” said the boatman, pushing Paddington back down again.
“Grrr,” said Paddington. “ITHINKI’VELOSTMYHAT.”
“ITHINKI’VELOSTMYHAT,” repeated the man, looking at Paddington with renewed interest. “Are you one of them foreign bears? We get a rare lot of overseas visitors at this time of year,” he said, turning to the Browns.
“I come from Peru,” spluttered Paddington, as he got his breath back. “But I live at number thirty-two Windsor Gardens in London, and I think I’ve lost my hat.”
“Oh dear,” said Mrs Brown, clutching her husband’s arm. “Did you hear that, Henry? Paddington’s lost his hat!”
The Brown family stared at each other in dismay. They often grumbled about Paddington’s hat – usually when he wasn’t listening – because it was so old. People had a habit of pointing at it when they were out and it made them feel embarrassed. But all the same, they couldn’t even begin to picture Paddington without it.
“I had it on when I fell in the water,” cried Paddington, feeling on top of his head. “And now it isn’t there any more.”
“Gosh,” said Jonathan. “It had so many holes in it too! Perhaps it’s sunk.”
“Sunk!” cried Paddington in dismay. He ran to the edge of the landing stage and peered at the muddy water. “But it can’t have sunk!”
“He’s always worn it,” explained Mrs Brown to the boatman. “Ever since we’ve known him. It was given to him by his uncle in Peru.”
“Darkest Peru,” said Paddington.
“Darkest Peru,” repeated the boatman, looking most impressed. He turned to Paddington and touched his forelock. “You’ll be wanting the Thames Conservancy, sir.”
“No, I don’t,” said Paddington firmly. “I want my hat.”
“He means they look after the river, dear,” explained Mrs Brown. “They may have found it for you.”
“It’s the current, sir,” explained the boatman. “Once you get away from the bank it’s very strong and it may have got swep’ over the weir.” He pointed along the river towards a row of buildings in the distance.
“Got swep’ over the weir?” repeated Paddington slowly.
The boatman nodded. “If it ain’t already been sucked into a whirlpool.”
Paddington gave the man a hard stare. “My hat!” he exclaimed, hardly able to believe his ears. “Got sucked into a whirlpool?”
“Come along,” said Mr Brown hastily. “If we hurry we may be just in time to see it go over.”
Closely followed by Mr and Mrs Brown, Mrs Bird, Jonathan and Judy, the boatman and a crowd of interested sightseers, Paddington hurried along the towpath with a grim expression on his face, leaving a trail of water behind him.
By the time they reached the weir the news had already spread and several men in peaked caps were peering anxiously into the water.
“I hear you’ve lost a very valuable Persian cat,” said the lock-keeper to Mr Brown.
“Not a cat,” said Mr Brown. “A hat. And it’s from Peru.”
“It belongs to this young bear gentleman, Fred,” explained the boatman as he joined them. “It’s a family heirloom.”
“A family heirloom?” repeated the lock-keeper, scratching his head as he looked at Paddington. “I’ve never heard of a hat being a family heirloom before. Especially a bear’s heirloom.”
“Mine is,” said Paddington firmly. “It’s
