Arthur Ransome - Swallows and Amazons (Complete Series)

“But it’s big enough for Peter Duck,” said Titty, “and he would let us come in if we were attacked by savages or pirates or anything like that.”

“But why Peter Duck?” said Susan.

“Well, we haven’t a tent to spare for him, for one thing, and anyhow it’s just the sort of cave he ought to have.”

“It’s a fine place for keeping the stores,” said Susan. “As cool as anything. You couldn’t have a better larder.”

Roger began to cough.

“Out you go,” said Susan. “It isn’t fit for you to stay in until we’ve got rid of the dust.”

Roger blundered out into the bright sunlight, flapped his arms and blinked his eyes. Just for the moment he was being a bat disturbed at midday, but he was an explorer again and a ship’s boy before the others had noticed that he was being a bat.

Titty and Susan followed him out and John was close behind them. All their throats were tickling from the dust.

“It wouldn’t do to live in,” said John, “but there’s plenty of room in it for all our tents and everything we’ve got.”

“We could put Peter Duck on guard,” said Titty. “We could live in our tents and supposing we saw an enemy coming we could hide everything in the cave and no one would ever know where our stronghold was. It’s a great place.”

“It’s a pity we haven’t got any enemies,” said Roger.

“We may have lots,” said Titty.

“You never know on the mainland,” said John. “And the Amazons are sure to want some sort of war or other.”

“Look at the way they attacked us last year,” said Titty, “when they said it was their island, not ours. Anyhow, they can’t say it’s their valley. And no one knows about the cave. In that way it’s even better than Wild Cat Island. There’s not even a fireplace to show anyone’s been here before. We discovered it for ourselves.”

“Somebody must have made the cave,” said John.

“It may have been here for ever. And anyway it’s Peter Duck’s cave.”

“But Peter Duck’s only in a story,” said Susan. “It can’t be really his cave.”

“Well, anyhow, he’s one of us. And if we make it his cave, then it’s all right, anyway. Whose else is it?”

John agreed. Peter Duck was one of the things on which it was not safe to disagree with Titty. Anyhow, even for John, he was very nearly real. He had become very real indeed in the story they had made up in the Christmas holidays. There was no reason at all why he should not have a cave.

“Besides,” said John, “if we call it Peter Duck’s cave, then when we want to talk of it when there are natives about, or enemies, we can say, ‘Go to Peter Duck’s,’ or ‘Fetch it from Peter Duck’s,’ or ‘I left it at Peter Duck’s,’ or ‘We’ll meet at Peter Duck’s,’ and no one would ever guess we meant a cave. Peter Duck’s cave will do very well. But what are we going to call the valley?”

“I’ve got a name for that, if it’ll do,” said Titty. “Let’s call it Swallowdale. Places get called after kings and princes and all kinds of people. It’s much more fun to call a place after a ship. Let’s call the valley after Swallow.”

Nobody had a word to say against that. And now, with such a valley to camp in, and such a cave to think about, even John did not mind so much hearing of the little ship. After all, she would soon be mended, and meanwhile there was all this. . . .

“Does everybody agree?”

Everybody agreed.

“Right,” said John. “Swallowdale shall be its name.”

“For ever and ever,” said Titty.

“We’ll shift the camp up here to-morrow,” said John.

“There’s only one bad thing about Swallowdale,” said Susan (and Titty was very pleased to hear her use the name). “There’s plenty of water, but there’s no wood. We shall have to carry all our firewood from the forest below the moor.”

BREAKFAST ON THE WAY

“Whenever we go to fetch milk, we’ll bring back as much wood as we can carry,” said John.

“I don’t believe it’s much farther to the farm from up here than it is from Horseshoe Cove,” said Susan. “Getting milk will be easy, but it’s much harder work carrying wood than bringing it in a boat like we did last year.”

“But we’re shipwrecked,” said Titty. “We ought to have some hardships or it wouldn’t be proper.”

“Well, the sooner you begin the hardships and fetch some wood, the sooner there’ll be a fire for dinner.”

“Let’s go at once,” said Roger.

“We must explore a bit more first,” said John. “We must find a good look-out place. We must have somewhere to put sentinels so that they can see all round and give us warning if natives are coming down over the fells or coming up from the woods.”

“All right,” said Susan. “I’m going to make a fireplace.”

“And as soon as the fireplace is ready, we’ll go down into the forest to bring wood. We’ll explore now.” John knew very well that the mate liked making fireplaces her own way and that helping her was never much use. “Come on, you two. You can leave your knapsacks here, but bring the telescope.”

The able-seaman and the boy left their knapsacks by the door of Peter Duck’s cave, and followed the captain up the northern side of the valley.

There were loose screes to avoid, where the stones slipped from under their feet, rocks to climb round, and clumps of heather to hold on by, and then at the top they came out on the open moorland, heather, bracken and grass cropped short by the black-faced fell sheep and burnt brown by the hot summer sun. Farther up they could see where the beck wound its way over the moor. And beyond the moorland in the north and west they could see the big hills.

“That one with the peak at one end of it is Kanchenjunga,” said Titty. “There isn’t any snow on it now, but there must be lots in winter.”

“That’s the hill above the valley the Amazon River comes from,” said John. “I’ve seen it on the map. Its name is . . .”

“Let’s have it for Kanchenjunga,” said Titty. “And then we can explore the sources of the Amazon and climb Kanchenjunga at the same time. Real exploring. . . .”

“Kanchenjunga’s a gorgeous name, anyhow,” said John.

“We’ll have ropes to climb with. If only there was snow on him we’d have ice-axes.”

“Hullo, there’s Rio,” said Roger.

They had been so taken up with the moorland and the big range of blue and purple hills stretching away into the distance that they had not looked back towards the lake below them. Now they turned and saw it, far away below, a blue and silver ribbon of water, with dark green wooded islands on it, and steamers, and the white sails of yachts, and the black spots that were the rowing boats of the natives, and the grey roofs of Rio town clustered about the bay. Looking down from the high moors, through gaps in the woods below them, they could see all this, though from where they were they could not see Wild Cat Island, which was too close below them and hidden by the forest through which they had climbed.

“Where’s the telescope?” said John.

Titty gave it him.

“We can see Holly Howe. I thought we could.”

“Let me see,” said Roger.

They looked in turns. Sure enough, far away on the other side of the lake, not far from Rio, there was the dark, pine-clad Peak of Darien, and beyond it a green field sloping up from a tiny bay, and at the top of the field the whitewashed, grey-roofed farm nestling among its damson trees.

“That white speck moving about there must be nurse’s apron,” said Titty, “or perhaps it’s Bridgie.”