Swallows and Amazons

by Arthur Ransome

  “I think I can leave it while I bathe,” she said.

  “Come on, Roger,” said Captain John, reaching into his tent and pulling the blankets off the boy, “let’s see you swim with both feet on the bottom.”

  “One,” said Roger, “and not all the time.”

  Two minutes later all the Swallows were in the water.

  “Try swimming on your back,” said John.

  “Can’t,” said Roger.

  “It’s easy. Stand like this in the water, leaning back. Then put your ears under.”

  Roger leant back.

  “Ears right under,” said John.

  “They are,” said Roger.

  Even as he said it, there was a wild splashing, and Roger disappeared. He was up again at once, spluttering.

  “I couldn’t keep my feet on the bottom,” he said. “They came up of themselves.”

  “I knew they would,” said John. “If you hadn’t doubled up you’d have floated.”

  Titty was swimming round them like a dog, paddling with her arms and legs, not in pairs, but one after another. “Try it again, Roger,” she said.

  “I’ll put a hand under the back of your neck so that your mouth won’t go under,” said John.

  Roger lent back once more, and rested his head on John’s hand. He pressed his ears under, and again his feet floated up.

  “Kick,” said John. “Kick like a frog. Kick again. You’re swimming. Well done.”

  “You really did swim on your back,” said Titty, as Roger struggled to his feet again.

  “I know I did,” said Roger. “Watch now.” He leant back towards the shore, put his ears under, and kicked hard. He got three good kicks in before he ran aground. He had swum three yards at least.

  But Mate Susan had not seen him. She had just had a few minutes’ good hard swim, and then had run up to the camp again to dry and dress, and see to her fire and the kettle at the same time. There were eggs to boil, and bread and butter to cut. The mate’s job is not an easy one, with a hungry crew to feed. Roger looked round for her, splashed out of the water, and ran, prancing, up to the camp to tell her that he had swum on his back.

  “Did you really swim?” said the mate.

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said the boy. “Three kicks, not touching anything. Come down, and I’ll show you.”

  “Can’t now,” said the mate. “You dry yourself and help to get the breakfast. We’ll bathe again in the middle of the day, and you can show me then. Now skip, and get the captain’s chronometer out of his tent.” He got it. “Hi!” she called, as he capered off again. “Take the milk-can down to the Swallow. It’s time someone went across to the farm.”

  John and Titty went across to the mainland to fetch the milk from Mrs. Dixon’s. Roger and the mate between them had breakfast ready when they got back.

  After breakfast John called a council for a second time.

  “It’s about Captain Flint again,” he said.

  “Do let’s go and sink him,” said Titty.

  “Shut up, you fo’c’sle hands,” said the mate.

  “It’s not altogether about his letter,” said Captain John, “it’s about what the charcoal-burners said. You see, there’s no wind. We shan’t see the Amazons today, so we can’t give them the message. That means that the houseboat man …”

  “Captain Flint …” said Titty.

  “Able-seaman Titty, will you shut up?” said the mate.

  “It means that he won’t know what the charcoal-burners wanted him to know. Don’t you think we ought to tell him without waiting for the Amazons? You see,” he went on, “it’s all native business. It’s got nothing to do with us, even if he is a beast, and thinks we’ve been touching his houseboat. We haven’t and we’ve got an alliance against him with the Amazons, but all the same, about this native business, it wouldn’t do not to tell him. We were to have told the Amazons. They’re not here, so I think we’d better tell him ourselves.”

  “Would the Amazons tell him?” asked Susan.

  “I’m sure they would. They wouldn’t like anyone else to break into his houseboat, specially when they’re going to break into it themselves. They’ve broken into it before, when they took the green feathers. I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m sure they wouldn’t like natives breaking into it. I’m going to tell him.”

  “You could declare war on him at the same time.”

  Captain John cheered up. “Yes,” he said, “so I could. The Amazons couldn’t help being pleased with that. Yes. I’ll tell him what the charcoal-burners said. That’s got nothing to do with us. It’s native business. Then I’ll tell him we haven’t ever been near his boat. Then I’ll tell him that we declare war on him and are going to do everything we can against him.”

  “Let him look to himself,” said Titty. “That’s the proper thing to say.”

  “We ought to give the message, anyhow,” said Susan. “We promised we would, and I tied a knot in my handkerchief and showed it to the charcoal-burners. That’s a double promise. Shall we all go?”

  “I’ll go by myself,” said Captain John, “then he can’t think it’s an attack. He’ll know it’s only a parley.”

  And so it happened that on the second day of the calm Captain John once more took the mast and the sail out of Swallow. Only this time he rowed north instead of south, and he rowed alone. He did not like going, because he was worried about what the Amazons would think, and after all it was their message. Also he did not like going to deliver a message to an enemy who had stirred up the natives against them so unjustly. He remembered what Mrs. Dixon had said. Further, he held the houseboat man for a bad kind of enemy because he had come to the camp while the Swallows were all away. Still, there was the message, a native message. It would be more uncomfortable not to deliver it than to deliver it. It would soon be done anyway. Captain John waved as he passed the camp, and then settled down to work, rowing steadily, navy stroke, with a smart jerk as he lifted his oars from the water.

  It did not take him long to reach the southern point of Houseboat Bay. He rounded it, looked over his shoulder to see that he was heading straight for the houseboat, and then looked over the stern of Swallow to the opposite shore of the lake. Directly over the stern on the far side of the lake there was a white cottage. On the hillside above the cottage was a group of tall pines. He chose the one that seemed exactly over the chimney of the white cottage. The cottage and the tree would be like the marks leading into the harbour on Wild Cat Island. So long as the tree was directly over the cottage and over the stern of the Swallow, he knew he would be heading as he was, straight for the houseboat. He made it a point of honour not to have a look round to make sure of his direction.

  He plugged away at the oars again, navy stroke, not hurrying but keeping his timing as regular as a clock. It was another point of honour that the oars should not splash when they went into the water. Yes, he was rowing quite well. But meanwhile he was thinking of what he should say to the houseboat man. The message was native business, not real, so that it would not do to call the houseboat man Captain Flint. That would come afterwards with the declaration of war. He would have to begin by calling him Mr. Turner. Then there was that beastly note. That would come in the Captain Flint part of the talk. Yes. The first thing to do would be to give the message from the charcoal-burners. Then, when the native business was done with, he could talk about the note, and declare war.

  Suddenly he heard the squawk of a parrot and a shout, quite close to him.

  “Look out! Where are you going to?”

  Captain John backwatered sharply, and looked round. He was a dozen yards or so from the houseboat. He pulled with his right, and backwatered with his left, so as to turn Swallow round. Then, backwatering gently with both oars he brought her, stern first, nearer to the houseboat.

  The houseboat man was on deck, lowering a large suitcase into a rowing boat that lay alongside. In the bows of the rowing boat was a large cage with the green parrot in it. The houseboa
t man, in very towny clothes, was lowering his suitcase into the stern. A motor car was waiting on the road which ran close to the shore at the head of the little bay. It was clear that the parrot and the houseboat man were presently going away.

  John was just going to say “Good morning,” or something like that, but the houseboat man spoke first.

  “Look here,” he said, “did you find a note I left in your camp yesterday?”

  “Yes,” said John.

  “Can you read?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you read it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I meant what I said in it. I told you to leave the houseboat alone, and here you come the very next morning. Once is quite enough. Just you lay to your oars and clear out. Fast. And don’t come here again.”

  “But …” said John.

  “And if you’ve got any more of those fireworks, the best thing you can do with them is to drop them in the lake. If you must let them off, let them off in a field.”

  “But I haven’t,” said John.

  “That was the last one, was it? Well, it did enough damage. How would you like someone to come and let off a firework in your boat and set fire to the sail or something? Look at the mess you made of my cabin roof.”

  CAPTAIN JOHN BACKWATERED

  There was a large burnt patch on the top of the curved cabin roof. The houseboat man pointed to it indignantly.

  “But I’ve never had any fireworks,” said John, “at least not since last November.”

  “Oh, look here,” said the houseboat man, “that won’t do.”

  “And I’ve never been near your boat before, never as near as I am now.”

  “Listen,” said the houseboat man. “When you came and lit that beastly thing that made such a mess of my cabin roof, you cleared off round the point. I came up and put the fire out, and guessed at once what you had done. But you may not know that about half an hour afterwards I came on deck again, and saw you sailing across the mouth of the bay. Think I can’t recognise a boat when I see it? You’ve the mast out of her today, but I’d seen her several times before, and you in her.”

  “We saw you that day. You were shaking your fist.”

  “Ah. You saw that, did you?”

  “But I didn’t set fire to your boat. I never touched your boat. This is the first time I’ve been near her, except once sailing to Rio, when you were sitting on the deck, and saw us too.”

  “Who did set fire to her, then?” said the houseboat man.

  John said nothing. It would never do to give the Amazons away.

  “There were four of you in the boat,” said the houseboat man. “But you were the biggest. You ought to know better than to let the others do a thing like that, even if you didn’t do it yourself.”

  “We didn’t do it at all,” said John.

  “Clear out,” said the houseboat man. “I’ve nothing more to say to you.”

  “But I came to tell you …”

  “Clear out,” said the houseboat man. “I don’t like talking to liars.”

  “But …”

  “Clear out, and don’t come near the houseboat again.”

  John choked. He went very red and stood up in the boat.

  “Go away,” said the houseboat man. “I’m busy.”

  John sat down and rowed away out of the bay. He rowed much harder than before, and his rowing was not so regular. He even forgot about navy style. He was out of breath and very hot when he brought the Swallow back to the landing-place at Wild Cat Island.

  The others met him there.

  “Did you see the parrot?” asked Titty.

  “What did he say when you gave him the message?” asked Susan.

  “Did you go aboard the houseboat?” asked Roger.

  “I didn’t give him the message,” said John. “He wouldn’t let me.”

  “Did you declare war on him?” asked Titty.

  “No,” said John. He pulled Swallow up on the beach.

  “He called me a liar,” he said, and went off by himself to the look-out place. The others looked at each other, but did not follow him.

  “I always said we ought to sink the houseboat,” said Titty.

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

  AFTER ABOUT HALF an hour at the look-out place, Captain John felt himself again. After all, nothing could be done about Captain Flint without the help of the Amazons. He was their uncle, not the uncle of the Swallows. If the Swallows had had an uncle, he would have been different. John had thought of writing a letter to the houseboat man, but he was no good at writing. Susan was even worse. Titty was the one for that, and Titty would not write the sort of letter that was needed. Bother the calm. If only there had been a wind and a chance of meeting the Amazons he would never have had to go by himself to give Captain Flint his message, and the thing would never have happened. But the big hills far up the lake helped to make him feel that the houseboat man did not matter. The hills had been there before Captain Flint. They would be there for ever. That, somehow, was comforting. John cheered up, and decided that it was a good day for swimming round the island.

  He went down to the camp.

  “Susan,” he said, “it’s a lovely day for swimming round the island.”

  “Are you sure you can?” said Susan.

  “I’m going to try,” said John. “I can come ashore if I get too tired.”

  The others came down to the landing-place to see him start. He swam at first with the side-stroke, fast and splashy. It was easy work to swim to the rocks at the low end of the island. Titty and Roger ran to the harbour, and climbed on a high rock to see him swimming round well outside the rocks that guarded the passage. “Hurrah,” they shouted as they saw him go by. Then they ran to the western side of the island, where the rock dropped straight down like a wall into deep water. John came swimming along, using breast stroke now for a change, quietly and not hurrying. He began to feel that it was a very long way down that western side.

  “Stick to it,” shouted Titty.

  “Go it,” shouted Roger.

  Susan came up from the camp to the tall pine at the northern end of the island, and looked down from the high rocky wall. John had almost reached the look-out place. He was moving very slowly.

  “You can get ashore just here if you’re done,” she called, “then you can rest and go on again.”

  John tried to wave his hand, and got a lot of water into his mouth in doing so. He turned on his back and floated, blowing like a whale.

  “You’re nearly round,” shouted Titty, who had run up to the look-out place and joined Susan.

  John began again, kicking with his legs and using his arms only a little. He was round the head of the island. He went on swimming on his back. He turned over and lifted his head. For one moment he saw the landing-place, and Swallow lying there pulled up on the beach. His head went down, and he got more water in his mouth. He blew and spluttered. Still the landing-place was really not so very far off. He turned on his side and swam on. Somehow his arms would not pull, and his legs would not gather up and kick as hard as they ought to.

  “You’ve done it,” shouted Titty.

  “Come on,” shouted Roger.

  Again John caught a glimpse of the landing-place. He must do it now. Suddenly he felt stronger again. He swam in towards the beach. He had started from this side of Swallow. Well, he would not touch bottom until he was on the other side. Another two strokes and he gripped Swallow’s port gunwale, touched the bottom, and crawled ashore, coughing, spitting, shivering, spluttering, and triumphant. Titty and Roger cheered. John was too much out of breath to speak.

  “Here’s a towel,” said Susan. “I’ve hotted it by the fire.”

  He put it round his shoulders. He rubbed first one arm and then the other. He felt much better.

  “Well, I thought I could do it,” he said at last. The day was a good day after all, in spite of Captain Flint.

  Susan was just thinking o
f getting dinner ready when there was a shout from Titty, who had taken the telescope up to the look-out place just in case of cormorants, pirates, or anything else worth looking at.

  “A native boat,” she shouted. “It’s Mother. It’s the female native. She’s got her little native with her, and the nurse belonging to it.”

  The Swallows all ran to the look-out point. The female native herself was rowing. She had already passed Houseboat Bay. Vicky and Nurse were sitting in the stern of the rowing boat. The Swallows had one look and then rushed back to tidy their tents and put the camp in order. They spread their blankets neatly over their haybags, and turned down the tops of them. Susan put a lot of fresh wood on the fire. There was not much else to do. Then they ran back to the look-out place. The female native was already quite near. They waved. Nurse and Vicky waved back. The female native couldn’t wave, because she was rowing. She passed the head of the island, and a moment later was pulling in to the landing-place. The Swallows were there before her.

  “Sit still, Nurse, till I get ashore,” said the female native.

  The Swallows had already seized the boat and pulled it up. There was a big hamper in the boat just forward of the rowing thwart. The female native climbed round it.

  “Welcome to Wild Cat Island,” said Titty.

  “Welcome, welcome,” shouted the others.

  There was a general scramble. Mother might be a native, but it was all right to kiss her none the less.

  The female native counted the Swallows after she had kissed them. “One, two, three, four,” she said. “No one drowned yet. That’s a good thing, because it’s somebody’s birthday.”

  “Whose? Whose?” they shouted. “It can’t be John’s, because he’s just had one.”

  “No, it isn’t John’s.”

  “Is it mine?” said Roger.

  “No,” said Mother.

  “Is it mine?” said Titty.

  “No.”

  “It can’t be mine,” said Susan, “because mine’s on New Year’s Day, and this is summer.”

  “Whose is it?” they asked.

  “Vicky’s, of course,” said the female native. “She’s two. Rather too young for a birthday, really, so I’ve brought a present for each of you.”