Swallowdale

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Swallowdale Page 36

by Arthur Ransome


  “She’ll have to make up her mind pretty quickly,” said John.

  “What about?” asked Titty.

  “Whether to go through Rio Bay,” said John.

  “They always do go that way,” said Susan.

  “I know,” said John.

  Just as he said it, they saw Amazon’s white sail flap as she came up into the wind and went about.

  “Of course they’re going by Rio,” said Susan. “Aren’t we?”

  “We’ll hang on a bit longer,” said John. “We’ll lose nothing by that, anyway.”

  “We lost by not following them last time.”

  “Yes,” said John. “They were right at Wild Cat Island, but they may be wrong here. They went about before they could see what it was like up the western side of the islands.”

  “It’s narrow there,” said Susan.

  “But look at the way Rio is sheltered by the hills and by the trees on Long Island and by the trees on the point beyond. Well, we’ll know in half a minute.”

  “They’ve passed point of Long Island now,” said Roger.

  “Good,” said John. “They can’t turn back. And now, look at that!”

  The wind was driving clear down the narrower channel between the islands and the western side of the lake. It was blowing down that narrow passage straight from the Arctic. The channel was rippled with sharp little waves from shore to shore. And already Amazon was slipping quietly, slowly, on even keel, into the calms and smooth water of the usual channel under the lee of Long Island.

  “We’ll beat them yet,” said John, and held on his course into the narrow channel along the western shore. “Short tacks it’ll be, but a good wind to make them with. We’ll beat her yet.”

  “She’s behind the trees now, I can’t see her,” said Roger.

  “You don’t need to,” said John. “We’ll see where she is when we come out the other side of the islands. Ready about!”

  Swallow shot up into the wind and a moment later, heeled over on the other tack, was dashing back across the narrow channel. Narrow as it was, every yard of it was good sailing. From shore to island, from island to shore and back again, never for a moment was Swallow without a wind to send her singing on her way. “Nancy can’t have found anything like this in there behind Long Island,” said John, half aloud and half to himself.

  They were nearly through the channel, heading for the most northerly of the islands on that side of the lake, when they saw Amazon’s white sail standing to meet them out from Rio Bay.

  “We’ve beaten her! We’ve beaten her!” shouted Roger.

  “It’s a near thing anyhow,” said John. “We’ll know better in a minute or two. Bother this island. Ready about!”

  Swallow went about just before coming under the island and headed, now, like Amazon, on starboard tack for the western shore. She reached it, went about again, and, on port tack now, hurried away to meet her rival.

  “It’s a very near thing,” said John again, “but she’s still a wee bit ahead.”

  “And the wind’s dropping,” said Roger, as if he were talking of someone dangerously ill.

  The two little ships swept nearer and nearer to each other.

  “We’ve got to keep out of their way,” murmured John to himself.

  “Why?” said Titty. “Why should we?”

  “We’re on port tack,” said John. “Not that it makes any difference,” he added. “She’ll clear us easily.”

  “You’ve caught up a lot too much,” shouted Captain Nancy, cheerfully, as the Amazon passed across the Swallow’s bows with twenty yards to spare.

  “Not quite enough,” shouted Captain John.

  Over his shoulder he was watching the promontory on the southern side of the entrance to the Amazon River. “We mustn’t stand on one second longer than we need,” he almost whispered.

  “Amazon’s going about,” called Roger.

  “She’ll have to look out for us if we go about now,” said John, “for then she’ll be on port tack and we’ll be on starboard.”

  He glanced again over his shoulder at the promontory.

  “There’s shallow water off the end of it,” he murmured.

  Titty was patting the main thwart, just to encourage Swallow. “Go it! Go it!” she was saying.

  “I think we can just do it,” said John. “Ready about!”

  “Too soon,” said Susan. “Too soon. We can’t head above the shallows.”

  John said nothing, but took the main sheet from Susan.

  Amazon, on the port tack, was coming towards them, Nancy glancing now at Swallow, now at her own sail, now over her shoulder at the point. Swallow had made up a little and Nancy was not sure whether she could cross her bows. She could, perhaps, have just done it, but, instead, went about and, like John, headed for the mouth of the river.

  The two little ships were now at last on the same course, and Amazon was only ten yards ahead.

  “Oh, do go it!” said Titty.

  “Don’t forget the shallows,” said Susan.

  “I haven’t,” said John, and whispered to Susan. Susan stared at him.

  “It’s the only chance,” he said.

  Susan whispered to the others. “Hang on to something. Hang on tight, and keep just where you are whatever we do.”

  “What for?” said Roger. But there was no time to explain.

  Beyond the point they could already see the reed-beds on the northern side of the river, the reed-beds where Nancy and Peggy had lurked in Amazon the night of last year’s war.

  The wind fell away almost to nothing.

  Titty whistled, bits of two different tunes.

  “Shut up,” said John. “We want a lull now more than anything.”

  Close ahead of them was Amazon, now almost at the point, and Nancy was wishing she had held on a little longer before trying to head for the river. She, too, remembered the shallows, and was thinking of the centre-board deep below the keel of her ship. There was no doubt about it. She would have to make one more short board out into the lake to be able to clear the shallows and get into the river.

  “They’re going about again,” shouted Roger.

  Just and only just Amazon cleared Swallow as she headed out once more.

  “You’ll be running aground,” shouted Peggy, as Swallow held on her way.

  “I can see the bottom,” shouted Roger.

  “Now then, Susan,” said John.

  “Hold tight, Roger,” said Susan.

  Just as Swallow came over the shallows at the point, Susan and John threw all their weight over on her lee side and brought her gunwhale so low that a few drops lapped across it. This, of course, lifted her keel. The wind had dropped to next to nothing, and so, on her beam ends, Swallow slid across the shallows and into the river.

  “Deep water,” said Susan, and in a moment John had flung his weight back to windward and Swallow rose again to an even keel, just in time to meet a little puff that carried her up the river to the Beckfoot boathouse. The same puff caught the Amazon, but that last short board out into the lake had lost her twenty yards and more, and Swallow slipped past the boathouse a full two lengths ahead of her.

  “Well done, little ship,” cried Titty. “Well done! Well done!”

  “Would we have lost if we’d touched?” asked Susan.

  “I don’t know,” said John. “But anyhow, we didn’t touch.”

  “You could see the minnows running away,” said Roger.

  “Well done, Skipper,” shouted Captain Nancy. “I thought you’d made a mistake and headed in too soon. I never guessed you’d done it on purpose. Shiver my timbers. If only I’d thought of pulling up the centre-board over the shoals we might have done you. But I don’t know. I saw as soon as we went about for the river that we should have to make another tack, so I let her go a bit free. Perhaps I couldn’t have cleared the point itself. Jolly good race, anyhow.”

  “I was a proper donkey running down outside Wild Cat Island and having to cra
wl back inside with no wind.”

  “What about me never thinking that with this wind you might do better through the narrow channel than by coming into Rio Bay?”

  “Good, good, good little ship,” said Titty.

  “Lower away,” said Susan. “Take the yard as it comes, Titty. Gather in the sail, Roger. No. Don’t try to get up.”

  *

  “So here you are,” said Mrs Blackett. “And who won?”

  “Who won?” asked the ship’s baby.

  “Who won?” asked Mrs Walker.

  All three of them had come down to the boathouse to find the crews of the Swallow and the Amazon already stowing their sails.

  “Hullo, mother.”

  “Hullo, Bridgie.”

  “How do you do?”

  “Well, you scaramouches.”

  “Who won?” said Bridget again.

  “You did,” said Peggy. “At least your ship did.”

  “John did what you told us father did in that race when he slipped over the shoals on his beam ends,” said Susan.

  “It was jolly good work,” said Nancy, “and a fine race. We’ll have lots more.”

  “And Swallow’s better than ever she was,” said Titty.

  “She certainly looks very smart,” said Mrs Blackett.

  “I do believe she’s a wee bit better than Amazon in going to windward when there’s a squall,” said Nancy. “But when it comes to running, and we pick up our centre-board, Amazon simply slips away from her.”

  “Hurry up now and come along to take part in the feast,” said Mrs Blackett. “You must all be hungry by now.”

  “We are,” said Nancy. “Bring out the roasted ox and broach a puncheon of Jamaica. It was great sailing.”

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  WILD CAT ISLAND ONCE AGAIN

  THE feast came slowly to an end. Even Roger said that he thought he had had enough ice-cream. There had been plenty of everything for everybody. It had been a very happy feast. Almost, it might have been somebody’s birthday. It was the sort of feast that there is when everybody knows that the school term has come to an end and that holidays begin to-morrow. Of course, Swallow was afloat again, new rigged, new painted, and sailing just as well as ever. That would have been enough for the happiness of John, Susan, Titty, and Roger. They were shipwrecked mariners no longer, but able to sail once more. Bridget, the ship’s baby, with her mouth red with crushed raspberries, would have been happy anyhow just to be at a feast with the rest of the crew, as if she were old enough to go to sea like Roger himself. The Amazons were happy to be enjoying once more the freedom of ruthless and black-hearted pirates. But there was something in the happiness of this feast that was shared by Swallows and Amazons and their elders all alike. It was like the end of one of those heavy days full of thunder, when the clouds have cleared away and the air feels light and clean. It was as if shutters had been suddenly opened, letting the sunshine into a room that has been dark for a long time.

  Yet there had been very little talk, really, about the going away of the great-aunt.

  “Where did she sit?” Titty had asked Peggy privately.

  “Just where Roger is sitting now.”

  Titty had looked at Roger, but he was showing no signs of being a boy who was sitting in what had been the special chair of the great-aunt. Perhaps that was because he did not know. For a moment she had thought of getting him to move, but then she had decided that perhaps it was just as well not to tell him. The chair had been chosen for him because of its arms, on one of which he could lean his crutch, from which he refused to be parted.

  Mrs Blackett, chattering happily to Mrs Walker (“Mother’s fairly letting herself go again,” said Nancy), did say something about the way in which children used to be brought up and how much better it was now that children could be the friends of their elders instead of their terrified subjects.

  This was too much for Nancy. “What she really means,” she broke in, “is that it’s lucky that we are bringing ourselves up instead of being brought up by the G.A.”

  “Nancy, Nancy,” said Mrs Blackett, and then laughed at herself. “Well,” she said, “it is a relief to be able to call you Nancy now and again without being reminded that you were christened Ruth.”

  “The trouble now would be if mother were to call me Ruth and I had to do something fierce to show that I was really Nancy.”

  But little else was said about the great-aunt, though, when the feast was over and they were all in the garden, Roger, who liked Mrs Blackett and remembered what he had heard about the great-aunt always pointing out the weeds, stumped up to her and said, “It’s a very nice lawn, and the daisies are nice too. A lawn without any daisies would be awfully dull.”

  Mrs Blackett stared at him for a moment, not in the least knowing what he meant, and then suddenly laughed.

  “Well, it’s very kind of you to say so,” she said.

  It was soon after that that Susan heard one of the mothers say, “It all depends what sort of children they are,” and the other reply, “It certainly works with yours.”

  It was the mother of the Swallows who first spoke of going home.

  “You’ll have a lot to do when you get back to camp,” she said, “and I want to beg a passage for myself and Bridget, as far as Holly Howe.”

  “Come the whole way to Swallowdale,” said Titty.

  “Do, please,” said Susan.

  “Wait till you’re back on the island and Mrs Blackett and I will come and spend a night with you, just to see how you manage.”

  “And I’m coming,” said the ship’s baby.

  “Of course.”

  “Well done, mother,” said Nancy. “We’ll take care of you, and you shan’t get in a row from anybody.”

  “Will Captain Flint come too?” asked Roger.

  “I expect he will if he’s asked,” said Mrs Blackett.

  “He must be bursting to come,” said Nancy.

  “Well,” said Peggy, “I do think he might have turned up for the feast.”

  Mrs Blackett and Mrs Walker looked at each other.

  “He’s in a hurry to get back aboard his houseboat, after having to be proper all this time,” said Nancy.

  Again Mrs Blackett looked at Mrs Walker. “And I suppose all of you are in a hurry to get back to your island.”

  “We don’t want to waste a minute,” said Nancy.

  “Swallowdale’s a fine camp,” said John, “but it’s not the same thing.”

  “It isn’t an island,” said Titty.

  “No harbour,” said Roger.

  “It was quite all right while we hadn’t got Swallow,” said John.

  “Come on,” said Nancy, “and we’ll begin getting things ready for portage. It’ll take us all day to-morrow if we don’t begin on it to-night.”

  “Come on,” said Peggy. “Suppose someone else grabbed the island.”

  “No one has,” said Titty. “I looked.”

  “Anybody might,” said Nancy, “with none of us there to defend it. Look how you came last year and we had to have a war with you.”

  “Come on,” said John. “Well be back there to-morrow and then we’ll have another.”

  Some of the Swallow’s crew sailed in the Amazon for the passage to Holly Howe. This was to make more room for Mrs Walker and the ship’s baby.

  “We’ll lend you our A.B. and the ship’s boy,” said Captain John.

  “Skip aboard,” said Captain Nancy.

  “Aye, aye, sir,” sang out Roger and Titty together, and were presently stowing themselves one on each side of the centre-board case.

  “Of course there’s really room in Swallow for all six of us,” said Captain John.

  “No point in overcrowding,” called Nancy. “Besides, you and your mate sailed with us the other day and your fo’c’sle hands never have.”

  “No fog to-day,” said Roger.

  “Good thing, too,” said Nancy. “It’s horrid, groping about.”

  “Good-
bye, and thank you very much for the feast,” called the Swallows.

  “Good-bye, mother,” called the Amazons. “You’re invited to a corroboree on Wild Cat Island any time you like.”

  “Long pig and plenty of it,” called Peggy, as they drifted out towards the mouth of the river.

  “We’ll pretend it’s great-aunt steak,” called Nancy, but Mrs Blackett pretended not to hear.

  *

  “Was she really as bad as all that?” said Mrs Walker quietly, as the Swallow slipped away.

  “We never really saw her,” said John, “but she must have been.”

  “She probably didn’t mean to be,” said Susan, “but she just was.”

  “Well, I wonder,” said mother, “in thirty years’ time, when I come to stay with you …”

  “We’ll never let you go away,” said Susan.

  “There won’t be any coming about it,” said John, “because there won’t be any going. You’re fixed.”

  *

  The wind was dropping as the afternoon turned into evening. It had freshened up after the race was over, but now there was only enough to keep the sheet stretched and the boom well out. There was not enough even for that when, half-way between the river and the Rio Islands they met a steamer, and the wash from it set both little ships rolling and tossing their booms about as if in an ocean swell.

  In Swallow the ship’s baby was being allowed to help the mate to steer.

  Amazon had passed Swallow outside the river, and, with the following wind, was adding foot after foot to her lead. She was being steered by Roger and Titty in turn. They were trying who could leave the straightest wake, now that the real captain and mate had changed places with their borrowed crew and were lying down on each side of the centre-board case, pretending that it was their watch below and that they were asleep in their cabins.

  “Wake us up when we come to Rio Bay,” said Nancy.

 

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