Swallowdale

by Arthur Ransome

  “I shall be seeing you all to-morrow at Beckfoot,” said mother, as they crossed the road.

  “But that isn’t till Swallow comes back,” said John.

  Mother caught Captain Flint’s eye and laughed.

  “She isn’t back, is she?” said Titty.

  “She wasn’t last night,” said John.

  Mother, Captain Flint, and Bridget were left behind in a moment, as all six explorers rushed ahead through the trees, Roger almost forgetting to use his crutch in his efforts to keep up with the others.

  “The mast’s gone,” shouted John, and a moment later, bursting out from the trees into the little cove, he saw where it had gone to. Amazon was no longer the only sailing boat in the cove. Drawn up on the beach beside her was another little boat, very like Swallow, but in such a glory of new paint that at first sight they could hardly believe she was the same dingy, beloved old Swallow they had known. The new mast had already been stepped in her, pale gold with sandpapering and linseed oil, and hung with new buff halyards for sail and flag. Spread on the beach, the damage done in the wreck already neatly mended, lay the old brown sail, and beside it lay the boom and the yard, new-scraped and varnished, together with a coil of fine rope for the lacings.

  Not one of the four Swallows could say a single word. They rushed at her, and tenderly touched the new paint and found it dry. They looked at the place where, when they saw her last, there had been a patch of old stained groundsheet over gaping broken planks. They could not have told, if they had not known, where that dreadful hole had been. She was a new ship, better than new, for she had renewed her youth and kept her memories and was still at heart the same old Swallow – more, far more, to them than any other vessel could be, anywhere in all the world.

  When Captain Flint had explained yet again in answer to the chorus of thanks that they had nothing to thank him for, because it was only a tiny bit of what he owed them, he helped mother and Bridget into his rowing boat and pushed off.

  “And to-morrow,” he said, “we’ll see which is the faster ship. Start at the houseboat. Finish at Beckfoot. I’ll be aboard the houseboat pretty early in the morning. Come along with your fleet as soon as you’re ready.”

  “Good nights” were shouted, and the rowing boat was just going out between the headlands, and John’s fingers were already unfastening the end of the coil of fine rope to begin the bending of the sail, when Captain Flint stopped rowing.

  “By the way, Roger,” he called over the water, “I’ve got that barrel of gunpowder.” And his oars dipped again and the rowing boat had left the cove.

  “Three cheers,” shouted Roger.

  “What did he mean?” asked Susan.

  “He’s going to let me fire the cannon,” shouted Roger, and waved his crutch in the air.

  CHAPTER XXXV

  THE RACE

  THE two little ships were swinging astern of the houseboat. Their captains and crews were up on the afterdeck drinking fizzy lemonade with Captain Flint, Who had called at Rio on his way down the lake from Beckfoot and had brought a whole case of it, just the stuff for tropical days, in the Beckfoot motor launch which was moored alongside. Everybody was a little deaf, because not only had Captain Flint welcomed them with a salute of guns as they sailed into Houseboat Bay, but he had kept his promise and loaded and reloaded the little cannon, while Roger, still playing Long John Silver and leaning on his crutch, fired it with a long taper, not once only, but again and again. The smell of gunpowder hung about the houseboat as it had during the battle of last year.

  “With the wind like this,” Captain Flint was saying, “northerly, pretty well straight down the lake, you’ll be beating all the way to the Amazon River, and that’s where the race must finish because they’re expecting you to a feast ashore at Beckfoot.”

  “And we had one feast yesterday, when mother came to Swallowdale,” said Titty.

  “By the time you get to Beckfoot to-day, you’ll be ready for another,” said Captain Flint. “I heard something about strawberry ices.”

  “Anybody can eat a strawberry ice, any time,” said Roger. “They don’t take any room like other sorts of food.”

  “That’s true,” said Captain Flint. “But about this race. All beat and no run is no test of a ship. You’d better start here, sail down the lake, round Wild Cat Island, and then finish in the Amazon River, the first ship past the boathouse to win.”

  “Which side of Wild Cat Island on the way down?” asked Nancy.

  “Whichever you like, so long as you sail all round it, and go down one side and up the other.”

  “And which way through the islands at Rio?” asked John.

  “Take your choice. Each skipper uses his own judgment. Now, I’ll give you two guns for a start. The first gun means you’ve two minutes to go. At one minute to go, I’ll wave my handkerchief. At the second gun, you’re off, and may the best ship win. Until the second gun goes neither ship must cross a line drawn between the houseboat’s mast and the northern point of this bay. Anybody who does has to come and cross it again after the gun goes. Understand?”

  The two captains nodded.

  “Are you coming, too, in the launch?” asked Roger.

  “Too much to do here,” said Captain Flint. “Shore life ends for me to-morrow, and I’m coming back to live aboard.”

  “And we’re going back to Wild Cat Island,” said Roger.

  “And everything’s going to be even better than last year.”

  “By the way, Able-seaman,” said Captain Flint, “what have you done with the parrot?”

  “He’s taking care of the camp. We took him with us yesterday.”

  “We couldn’t have him with us, racing,” said Susan.

  “Think if he fell overboard and we had to pick him up and lose the race,” said John.

  “All aboard!” said Nancy.

  “Muster your crew, Mister Mate,” said John.

  Two minutes later everybody was aboard his own ship except Roger, who, with his crutch slung about his neck was allowed to come down the rope ladder from the houseboat into the Swallow, as if he was a pilot leaving a liner at sea.

  “That’s that,” said Captain Flint, as Roger let go. “Now then. I’ll fire the first gun as soon as you’ve both got sail set and look like being ready.”

  *

  “How do you think the sail’s setting?” asked John. “What about getting the peak a wee bit higher?”

  “Will it go?” asked Susan, looking up at the brown sail through half-closed eyes. In that sunshine she was glad that Swallow’s sail was brown and not glaring white like Amazon’s.

  “Another half-inch,” said John, swigging on the halyard. “Ease off that tackle a moment till I get the peak right up. Now bring the boom down. Handsomely. Stop. So. The wind’ll flatten out those wrinkles as soon as she’s out of the bay …”

  BANG!

  A cloud of grey smoke blew away from the foredeck of the houseboat, and they saw Captain Flint reload the little cannon and stand beside it waiting, looking at the watch in his hand.

  Nancy and Peggy in Amazon were also ready, and the two little ships were sailing to and fro in the bay, their skippers watching each other, each skipper hoping to be sailing for the line when the second gun should go, and near enough to it to be over it and away without losing a second.

  “You watch for the handkerchief, Titty,” said Susan. “And, Roger, we shan’t want you forward until we’ve rounded the island. Stow yourself down there by the middle thwart and keep your hurt foot well out of the way.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said Roger.

  “He’s waved his handkerchief,” said Titty.

  “One more minute to go,” said John. “I do wish I hadn’t lost the seconds-hand off my watch. Listen! They’ve got theirs all right. They’ll know to a second when the gun’s coming.”

  Amazon came gliding down towards them in the smooth, sheltered water, and they saw Peggy’s head bent, looking at something in her hand, and
heard her voice, loud and eager, counting the seconds. “Forty … thirty-five … thirty … twenty-five.”

  Then they heard Nancy, “Shut up, you tame galoot. Don’t count so loud.” They heard no more.

  “There can’t be more than five seconds now,” said John. “Nancy’s going for the line. Come on.” He swung the little ship round and headed for the mouth of the bay, between the houseboat and the northern promontory. Amazon, too, was reaching out. Both vessels were on the starboard tack and not more than a dozen yards apart, but Amazon was just a little astern of Swallow.

  “We’re nearly on the line now,” said John, glancing to and fro between the houseboat and the point. “We’ll have to stop her or she’ll be across it before the gun goes.”

  “He’s bending over the gun,” said Titty.

  “Can’t help it. We’re too soon. I’ve got to luff,” said John, and he brought Swallow up into the wind with her sail all ashake.

  BANG!

  The gun went, and the smoke had not blown away before Amazon, already sailing hard, was over the line and away. John put his helm up, brought his ship on the wind again, and was soon after her, but precious seconds had been lost, and Amazon was a dozen yards ahead as the two little ships left the bay, and the mates paid out the mainsheets, and, with booms out on the port side, the run down to the island began.

  “My fault,” said John. “Bother that seconds-hand.”

  “Never mind,” said Susan. “It’s a long race. We’ll make up that little bit.”

  “There’ll be more than that to make up,” said John. “Look at her. She’s creeping away from us now. They’ve got their centre-board up. They can always run faster than we can.”

  There was no doubt about it. Little by little Amazon was adding to her lead. John and Susan hauled in the mainsheet a few inches and let it out again, trying to find just the place where the sail did most good. But it made no difference. Running before the wind and in fairly smooth water, Amazon was the faster boat, though not by very much.

  “We’ll make it up when it comes to beating,” said Susan.

  “If only there’s a bit more wind,” said John. “Swallow likes something she can feel.”

  “That’s more like,” said Titty a little later, as the wind strengthened, and a murmur of water came from under Swallow’s forefoot. “You can hear she’s pleased with it.”

  “Nancy can jolly well sail,” said John, glancing over his shoulder at the wake of the Swallow, after watching the wake of the Amazon, straight as if it had been laid down on the water with a ruler.

  “Are they going to keep ahead of us all the way?” asked Roger.

  “The race has hardly begun yet,” said the mate.

  The Amazon was already close to the northern end of Wild Cat Island, heading as if to pass outside it, when, suddenly, as if Nancy had changed her mind at the last moment, she changed course and headed for the channel between the island and the Dixon’s farm landing.

  Swallow’s wake waggled for a moment.

  “They’ll get smoother water that side of the island,” said John to himself, “and smooth water suits Amazon best. But there’s more wind outside and Swallow wants all she can get.”

  “We ought to make up a lot keeping down this side,” said Susan.

  Swallow’s wake straightened out again as John made up his mind and held her to her course. A moment later they could no longer see the Amazon. The island was between the racing ships.

  “We must be gaining on them like fun,” said John. “We may even get to the foot of the island first.”

  “It’ll be awful, beating up the other side if there’s no wind,” said Titty.

  John and Susan looked at each other. There was nothing to be done now. “Down one side and up the other.” The best they could hope for was a lucky gust or two to help them in the narrows, and to make as much as they could now while they still had the wind.

  “Isn’t it lovely to think we’ll be back on the island to-morrow,” said Titty, as they rushed along, close by the well-known shore.

  “Lucky nobody has collared it while we’ve been away,” said John.

  “Look out for the rocks off the low end,” said Susan.

  “We won’t try to go too close, anyway,” said John, “or the trees’ll blanket us. If we go far enough out to keep some of the wind, we’ll be clear of all rocks.”

  They churned past the low end of the island and Amazon was not yet in sight. At the foot of the island, in the lee of the trees and the big rocks that hid the harbour, was an oily patch of smooth water. John watched it carefully. At the edge of it there was not so much a ripple as a promise of one.

  “That’ll do us,” said John. “Ready for a jibe. Rattle in the mainsheet, Mister Mate. Round she comes. Steady. That’s enough. We’ll be close-hauled the moment we’re clear. Now, haul in!”

  “Here’s Amazon,” squealed Roger.

  Amazon was gliding slowly towards them in the smooth water of the inner channel. Swallow had reached the low end of the island first, and now, after turning round the outer rocks, was coming, close-hauled, to meet her.

  “She’s still running free. We’re close-hauled. She’s got to keep out of our way,” said John.

  The Amazon met them and passed smoothly under their stern.

  “Hurrah,” shouted Roger. “We’ve caught up yards and yards.”

  Nancy laughed. “Just you wait before shouting ‘Hurrah’ till you’ve been in there a minute.”

  Swallow moved more and more slowly, standing across towards the Dixon’s farm landing. There was hardly a ripple on the water. The island trees and the promontory above Shark’s Bay cut off most of the wind. The noise under the forefoot died away, and looking astern John saw Amazon, now clear of the outer rocks, come close to the wind and heel over to a puff that he wished with all his heart he could borrow to help poor Swallow along.

  “Of course they were right to come down inside,” he said. “Running with hardly any wind is not so bad, but beating when there’s no wind to beat against is awful. And now they’re clear and can make long boards in a good wind, and we can only make short ones in no wind at all. They’ll have made up all we gained and more before we get out again.”

  “Can’t we row?” said Roger.

  “Rowing’s not allowed,” said John. “Don’t pinch her, Susan. Our only hope’s to keep her moving.”

  “She’d head much nearer to the wind.”

  “But she wouldn’t move so well. Get your weight a bit farther forward, you two.”

  To and fro and to and fro again the Swallow beat in the narrow sheltered passage between the island and the eastern shore of the lake, while, outside, with a good wind, Amazon was making up in a single board, right across to the western shore, all she had lost by taking the inner passage on the run down.

  “It’s one up to Nancy,” said John. “Two up, counting the start.”

  “Shall we ever catch her?” said Roger.

  “Can’t tell, till we see where she is when we get clear of the island again.”

  “Nobody’s touched the fireplace,” said Titty, who had the telescope and was looking at the island. “I can just see it.”

  “Bother the fireplace,” said Captain John. “Ready about. We’ll clear Look Out Point on this tack. Sing out as soon as you see them. I must watch the sail.”

  “There they are,” called Roger, as Swallow, now on the starboard tack, sailed out close under the northern headland on which he had spent so many happy hours with the telescope.

  “Coming this way,” said Titty.

  “They’re on the port tack,” said Susan.

  “They must have gone about by Cormorant Island,” said John. “They’ll fetch nearly to Houseboat Bay, the way they’re heading. They’re yards and yards ahead of us again.”

  “Are they?”

  “Of course they are. If we were to go about now we shouldn’t fetch anywhere near Houseboat Bay, and if we go on as we are they’ll be at the
houseboat before we’ve gone far enough to head for it. Still, we’re out of that channel now. A bit more wind is what we want.”

  “Well, it’s coming,” said Titty. “Look!”

  A black patch of wind-combed water was sweeping down the lake marking the track of a squall coming down from the mountains.

  “They’ll be getting it first,” said Susan.

  “Amazon won’t like it,” said John. “She’s not as stiff as Swallow. Besides, all together, we must weigh more than them. Look, she’s feeling it already.”

  They saw the little, white-sailed Amazon, far out in the middle of the lake, heel suddenly as the squall struck her. They saw her luff and come up into the wind with sail shaking for a moment. It filled a moment later, but again she heeled over and again she came up into the wind.

  “They’ve got all they want,” said John.

  “We’ll be having it in a minute,” said Susan. “Here it is.”

  “Hang on, Susan. Don’t ease unless you have to. She’ll stand it all right. Keep her down to it. Good little ship.”

  The squall whistled down on them. Swallow heeled over, picked herself up, and shot forward, the foam spirting from her bows. There was no need for her to come up into the wind. She was glad of the whole force of it to send her flying on her way.

  At this point Swallow, on the starboard tack, was racing towards the western shore of the lake. Amazon, on the port tack, was scurrying towards the eastern, but was already so far ahead that when next she went about she was off Houseboat Bay, while Swallow, on the same tack, would, if she had gone about, have been only just able to make that point that Amazon had already reached. But John was taking no interest in Houseboat Bay, and held on his course, for the best wind was in the middle of the lake.

  The squall passed, and once more there was only a light wind. John and Nancy were now sailing tack for tack. When Swallow went about, Amazon did the same, as if to be sure of keeping the distance she had already gained. For some time no one in Swallow could tell whether they were overhauling her or not. At last both little ships were nearing the islands by Rio, both on starboard tack, heading about north-west. Amazon, of course, was much nearer to the islands than Swallow.