Swallows and Amazons

by Arthur Ransome

  “I expect they’ve gone to meet the Blackett children,” said Mother.

  “Man Friday ought not to know anything about them,” said Titty.

  “Very well, I won’t,” said Mother. “But what are you doing all by yourself?”

  “Properly I’m in charge of the camp,” said Titty. “But while they’re not here it doesn’t make any difference if I’m Robinson Crusoe instead.”

  “I am sure it doesn’t,” said Mother. “Have they left you anything to eat?”

  “I’ve got my rations in the tent,” said Titty.

  “Well, it’s high time you ate them,” said Mother. “Will you let Man Friday put some more wood on the fire, and make some tea? I can’t stay very long, but perhaps they’ll be back before I go.”

  “I don’t think they will,” said Titty. “They’ve sailed across the Pacific Ocean. Timbuctoo is nothing to where they’ve gone.”

  “Well, I’ll make some tea, anyhow,” said Mother. “Let’s see what they’ve left you in the way of rations.”

  Titty brought out her rations, a good big hunk of pemmican, some brown bread, some biscuits, and a large fat slice of cake. Man Friday did not think much of them. “Still,” she said, “I think we shall be able to make a meal. What about butter? And potatoes? What if we were to make pemmican cakes?”

  Man Friday rummaged in the store box, and found some butter which was rather soft. She sniffed at it, and said it ought to be eaten, anyhow, and more would have to be got from Mrs. Dixon’s tomorrow. She found some potatoes and also the salt. Robinson Crusoe had the tea among her rations, rolled up in a screw of paper. She also had a tobacco box full of sugar.

  Man Friday opened up the fire, and put sticks on it, and soon had it blazing up round the big kettle. She peeled some potatoes, and set them to boil in a saucepan at the edge of the fire. She chopped up the pemmican into very little bits like mince. Then, when the potatoes were soft, she took them out of the water, and broke them up, and mixed them with the chopped meat and made half a dozen round flat cakes of pemmican and potato. Then she put some butter in the frying-pan and melted it, and then she fried the pemmican cakes till they sizzled and bubbled all over them. Robinson Crusoe made the tea.

  When they had eaten their meal, which was a very good one, Robinson Crusoe said, “Now, Man Friday, would you mind telling me some of your life before you came to this island?”

  Man Friday began at once by telling how she had nearly been eaten by savages, and had only escaped by jumping out of the stew-pot at the last minute.

  “Weren’t you scalded?” said Robinson Crusoe.

  “Badly,” said Man Friday, “but I buttered the places that hurt most.”

  And then Man Friday forgot about being Man Friday, and became Mother again, and told about her own childhood on a sheep station in Australia, and about emus that laid eggs as big as a baby’s head, and opossums that ran about with their young ones in a pocket in their fronts, and about kangaroos that could kill a man with a kick, and about snakes that hid in the dust. Here Robinson Crusoe, who had forgotten that she was Robinson Crusoe, and had turned into Titty again, talked about the snake that she had seen herself in the cigar-box that was kept in the charcoal-burners’ wigwam. Then she told Mother about the dipper, and how it had bobbed at her, and flown under water. Then Mother talked about the great drought on the sheep stations, when there was no rain and no water in the wells, and the flocks had to be driven miles and miles to get a drink, and thousands and thousands of them died. Then she talked of the pony she had had when she was a little girl, and then of the little brown bears that her father caught in the bush, and that used to lick her fingers for her when she dipped them in honey.

  Time went on very fast, much faster than when Robinson Crusoe had been alone. But suddenly Man Friday jumped up and said that she must go home.

  “I can’t wait any longer,” she said. “I must go back to Vicky. But I’m sorry I haven’t seen John. I saw he was worried yesterday about what this Mr. Turner had said to him, and I wanted to ask if he would like me to write to Mrs. Blackett to ask her to let her brother know that John had never touched his boat.”

  Titty was not sure. There were the Amazon pirates to think about. It would never do to get the natives mixed up in things. So she said she would tell John what Mother had said as soon as he came back.

  “I wonder why they are so long,” said Mother. “Are you sure you are all right here by yourself? Wouldn’t you like to come home with me to Holly Howe? You could watch and shout to them when they come past, or you could come on a visit to me, and spend the night, and run along the road to Mrs. Dixon’s in the morning to join the others when they come for the milk. We could leave a note here for John to say where you have gone.”

  For a moment Titty thought she would like to go. Somehow, with Mother going, the island seemed to be much lonelier than before she came. Then she remembered the leading lights and the lighthouse, and that she was in charge of the camp.

  “No thank you,” she said. “I’d rather stay here.”

  Mother took the frying-pan and saucepan and mugs and plates down to the landing-place, and washed them while Titty dried them. Then she brought them back to the camp, and put them neatly away. She filled the kettle and put it on one of the stones of the fireplace, half on and half off the fire. “It’ll get hot there,” she said, “and then it’ll boil up quickly when they come back thirsty for their tea.”

  “I don’t think they’ll be back so soon,” said Titty.

  Mother looked at her.

  “You’d better come along with me,” she said. “The camp will look after itself all right.”

  “No thank you,” said Titty firmly.

  “Oh well,” said Mother, “if you are quite sure you will be all right. But don’t wait tea for them too long. The Blacketts might ask them to stay and have tea with them.”

  Titty said nothing.

  Mother got into the boat, and pushed off with an oar.

  “Goodbye, Robinson Crusoe,” she said.

  “Goodbye, Man Friday,” said Titty. “It was very jolly having you here. I hope you liked my island.”

  “Very much indeed,” said Mother.

  She rowed slowly away. Titty ran up to the look-out point to wave. Mother rowed past below it. The island was suddenly very lonely indeed. Titty changed her mind.

  “Mother,” she called.

  Mother stopped rowing.

  “Want to come?” she called.

  But in that moment Titty remembered again that she was not merely Robinson Crusoe, who had a right to be rescued by a passing ship, but was also Able-seaman Titty, who had to hoist the lantern on the big tree behind her, so that the others could find the island in the dark, and then to light the leading lights so that they could bring their prize into the harbour.

  “No,” she called. “Only goodbye.”

  “Goodbye,” called Mother.

  “Goodbye,” called Titty. She lay down on the look-out point, and watched Mother through the telescope. Suddenly she found that she could not see her. She blinked, pulled out her handkerchief, and wiped first the telescope glass and then her eye.

  “Duffer,” she said. “That’s with looking too hard. Try the other eye.”

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE AMAZON RIVER

  THE SUN SET behind the hills on the western shore of the lake. The belt of light along the tops of the hills on the eastern side narrowed and narrowed, and at last was gone. The wind dropped. The islands off Rio were reflected in still water.

  “This will never do,” said Captain John. “It may be dark before the wind comes again. We’d better slip across to the western shore and row along it. Even if they are watching they won’t see us now if we keep close to the land.”

  “They’ll take us for a fisherman,” said Susan.

  “Except for the mast,” said John. “But we can take it down. Anyhow, we shall be sheltered nearly all the way if we come along that side of the lake. I
bet they won’t see us at all. And if the wind doesn’t come again, we shall be too late to see things by the time we get into the river.”

  “Come on,” said Susan.

  “May I row?” said the Boy Roger.

  *

  It had been a long wait among the islands, and they were all glad to be moving again at last. In the morning the fair wind had brought them fast from Wild Cat Island down to Rio Bay. They had cruised in and out among the islands, and made sure that the Amazons were not lurking among them, waiting for their chance to capture the island once again. They had made sure that the Amazon was still in the Amazon River, so that the plan was working out just as they had hoped, and they would be able to sail in and capture her in the evening. They had anchored close under one of the islands north of Rio to wait till dusk. From there they had been able to look out over the northern part of the lake without being seen themselves, and all day long they had kept a close watch on the promontory behind which, they knew, lay the Amazon River and the stronghold of the Amazon pirates. But the afternoon had been very long, and at one time there had almost been a mutiny.

  “Let’s go straight on,” Roger had said, and Susan had said, “Why not?”

  Captain John had brought them to reason. Everything had been planned for an attack at dusk. There would be no chance at all of capturing the Amazon if they sailed up there in broad daylight. Besides, they had left Able-seaman Titty behind on Wild Cat Island to look after the lights for them so that they could come home in the dark. They could not leave Titty behind and then go and turn the day into an ordinary picnic. Susan had agreed. Roger had suggested swimming instead. The mutiny had thus been suppressed without bloodshed, as they say in the books.

  The crew had been rewarded by getting permission from their captain to go ashore. They had landed on the island near which they were anchored. They had bathed from it, and made a fire on the shore, not for cooking, because they had brought no kettle, but because landing on an island without making a fire is waste of an island. They had drunk half their milk and eaten half their rations. Then while John stayed on the island he had sent the mate and the boy to sail in to Rio, to buy stores. They had bought a shilling’s worth of the sort of chocolate that has almonds and raisins in it as well as the chocolate, and so is three sorts of food at once. They had come back. They had visited several other islands, and had an unpleasant meeting with some natives on one of them, who pointed to a notice-board and said that the island was private, and that no landing was allowed.

  Only once Captain John had thought he had seen one of the Amazons moving in the heather on the promontory. But he could not be sure without the telescope. It might have been a sheep. The wait all through the afternoon and early evening had been long and tiring, and though there had been plenty to look at in the steamers and motor boats and rowing skiffs of the natives, they had seen no sails except those of large yachts far away up the lake. For the first time in their lives all three of them had wished to hurry the sinking sun upon its way.

  *

  Now, at last, the sun had set. Twilight was coming on. There was no wind, for the wind had gone with the sun as it so often does, and they were beginning to be afraid that the dark would come too soon for them. All was astir in the Swallow.

  The mast was unstepped, and laid on the thwarts so that it stuck out over the bows. There was room for it in the ship, for it was a few inches shorter than Swallow was long. But to stow it all inside it had to lie straight down the middle, so that it was very uncomfortable for anybody who was rowing.

  “Anyway, why shouldn’t she have a bowsprit?” said John. “Besides, it’s only for a short time.”

  Roger rowed. John was looking at the chart in the guide-book. Susan steered.

  “Pull with your back,” she said, “don’t bend your arms till the end of the stroke.”

  “I’m pulling with all of me,” said Roger, “but I’ve got too many clothes on.”

  “He’s making a fair lot of noise and splash,” said the captain.

  “He’ll be tired before we get near enough for it to matter,” said the mate.

  “No I won’t,” said Roger.

  Slowly they moved across to the western shore. No one could row Swallow fast. It was growing dusk. Already the hills were dark, and you could not see the woods on them. It began to seem that after waiting so long because it was too light, they were going to fail after all because it would not be light enough.

  “Look here, Susan,” said John, “I think I’d better row.”

  But just then a line of ripples crept over the green and silver surface of the smooth water.

  “Thank goodness,” said Captain John. “Here’s the wind again, and it’s the same wind. Sometimes it changes after sunset, but this is still from the south.”

  The ripples grew as the south wind strengthened.

  “It’ll be against us on the way home,” said the mate.

  “There’ll be no hurry then,” said John.

  “What about sailing?” said Roger. “But I’m not tired.”

  “It isn’t as if Swallow had a white sail,” said Captain John. “They’ll never see the brown one in this light, especially if we hug the shore. And we can with this wind. Yes, Mister Mate. Tell the men to bring the sweeps aboard.”

  “Easy,” said the mate. “Bring the sweeps in.”

  Roger stopped rowing and lifted first one oar and then the other from the rowlocks and laid them quietly down.

  “Keep her heading as she is,” said Captain John.

  “As she is, sir,” said the mate. In a calm things go anyway in a sailing ship, but a little wind sharpens them up at once.

  John stepped the mast as quietly as he could. He hooked the yard to the traveller and set the sail. There was a little west in the wind and the boom swung out on the starboard side.

  “She’s moving now like anything,” said the boy.

  “I don’t want to get there too soon,” said John, “but I do want to get into the river while it’s still light enough to see but late enough for the pirates to be off their guard and feasting in their stronghold.”

  “Peggy said they had supper at half-past seven,” said Susan.

  “Well it’s ages after that now,” said John. “I should think we are all right.”

  Here and there on the shores of the lake lights twinkled in the houses of the natives. Astern of them, over the tops of the islands, there was a huge cluster of lights in Rio Bay. But it was not quite dark yet, though the first stars were showing.

  Swallow was sailing fast and in a very little time they were abreast of the promontory, and could see its great dark lump close to them.

  “We must lower sail now,” said the captain.

  He lowered the sail himself. He could not trust even Susan to lower it without making a noise. Then he wetted the rowlocks so that they would not squeak.

  The Swallow drifted on past the point. Beyond the promontory was a wide bay with deep beds of rushes on either side of it. Somewhere at the head of the bay was a house with lights in its windows. The lights, reflected in the water, showed exactly where was the opening of the river mouth between the reeds. A moment later they lost sight of the reflections and knew that they had drifted too far.

  “Now, Mister Mate,” whispered John. “Will you row, as quietly as ever you can? Roger goes forward to keep a look-out. Don’t shout if you see anything. Just tell the mate under your breath.”

  “What about the mast?” asked the mate.

  “If they’re watching, they’ll see the ship and know her, anyhow,” said Captain John. “If they’re not watching, the mast doesn’t matter. If they are in the house in those lighted rooms, they won’t be able to see anything at all out here. I’m sure we’ve done them, if we can find the boathouse. They’d have challenged us long before this if they’d seen us.”

  The mate rowed with slow, steady strokes. Her oars made no noise at all. They slipped in and out of the water without a splash. Swallow was
in smooth water now, sheltered by the high ground of the promontory. John steered till he could see the lights of the house reflected in the river. That was the opening in the reeds. He steered towards it. Presently there were tall reeds on either side of them. They were in the Amazon River.

  “The boathouse is somewhere on the right bank,” whispered John. “That’s our left. Tell Roger to keep a look-out to port.”

  Suddenly there was a splash in the reed-beds, followed by a loud quack.

  “What’s that?” said Susan, startled.

  “Duck,” said the captain.

  Susan rowed on.

  There was a whisper from the look-out. “There it is. I see it.”

  “Where?” whispered the mate looking over her shoulder.

  “There,” said the boy.

  High above the reeds, not far ahead of them, on the right bank of the river rose the black square shape of a large building.

  “That’s it,” whispered the captain.

  “The boathouse,” said the mate.

  “Quiet.”

  “’Sh.”

  The boathouse stood deep in an inlet among the reeds. Captain John steered towards it.

  “Easy all!” he whispered. There was a dead silence on the river as the Swallow drifted on. There was a noise of music in the house with the lights in it.

  “Captain Nancy said the boathouse had a skull and crossbones on it,” whispered Captain John.

  THE ENEMY’S BOATHOUSE

  “I see it. I see it,” cried Roger.

  “Shut up. Be quiet,” hissed the mate.

  “That’s it, all right,” whispered Captain John.

  On the front of the big open boathouse, high up over the entrance, cut out of wood and painted staring white were a huge skull and crossbones big enough to have belonged to an elephant.