Arthur Ransome - Swallows and Amazons (Complete Series)

“What letter?”

“It’s for you,” said Mary, and she put down her bucket and took an envelope from the pocket of her apron. “I didn’t leave it. I knew one of you’d be down for the milk as soon as you got back.”

On the envelope “Native Post” was written in very small writing in one corner, and then, in large writing that she knew at a glance was mother’s, Susan read the address, “Mate Susan, The Camp, Swallowdale.” She tore it open and read:

“My dear Mate and Cook,

I’m coming over to-morrow morning with Bridgie to hear all about Kanchenjunga. Don’t do too much cooking. We’ll bring our own rations. This is just in case you might all be exploring if you didn’t know we were coming. Expect us about eight bells of the forenoon watch (John knows when).

Love to the Captain and the Crew,

The Mother of the Ship’s Baby.”

Tears filled her eyes and she could hardly read the last words. Mother was so sure that everything was as it should be. And she, Susan, who should have been taking care of the others, did not even know where they were. . . . Blindly she pushed the letter at John. The others looked at her gravely.

“What’s ado?” said Mary. “Don’t take on.”

“They’re lost. They’re lost,” sobbed Susan, “and mother’s coming to-morrow and Bridgie. . . . She doesn’t know.”

“Nay, don’t take on,” said Mary. “They’ll not be far.”

“It was in the fog,” said John.

Susan made up her mind.

“We must go and tell mother at once. We must go and tell her now.” She started off down the cart-track to the road.

“Susan’s right,” said Nancy. “The sooner we do it the better. The sun’s gone down and it’ll be getting dark. Something’s got to be done.”

Mary Swainson agreed with Nancy. She plumped her bucket down by the gate, and hurried after Susan. “I’ll row you over,” she called. “There’s no wind for sailing and our boat’s quicker for rowing.”

The others caught them up just before they came to the road.

“Nay,” said Mary, “there’s no call for all to go. Some of you’d best bide in your camp. It’ll be bad for them, poor lambs, if they find their way in and nobody to give them something hot and put them to bed.”

Just then they heard the noise of horses’ hoofs coming nearer in the dusk.

“Lurk,” said John, from habit, but added at once, almost as if he were ashamed, “What’s the good of lurking?” The whole party walked out into the road, in full view of any natives, friends or enemies—who cared which?—who might be coming along.

“Carting trees,” said Peggy.

Three great horses were coming round the bend in the road under the steep woods, and after them the enormous tree chained firmly down on its two pairs of big red wheels. Dusk was falling, and for a moment nobody saw anything but the horses, the log, and a woodman walking beside the leading horse.

Mary Swainson half stopped.

“Whoa, Neddy,” came the voice of the woodman. “Whoa, there! Steady now.” The three horses came to a standstill.

“Evening, Mary.”

“Evening, Jack.”

“We’ve a friend o’ yours here,” he said, and then they saw Titty slip down from the high-tilted end of the great log into the arms of the other woodman, who was standing below her in the road. They ran towards her.

“Thank you very much indeed,” Titty was saying, and then, “Hullo, Susan! Roger’s hurt his foot, but everything’s quite all right.”

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“Where is he?”

And then everybody was talking at once. The woodmen talked to Mary and Mary talked to Titty. Titty was trying to explain what had happened, but answers that did very well for Nancy and Peggy were not quite enough for John and not nearly enough for Susan. Roger was sleeping in a wigwam. Oh, well, a charcoal-burner’s hut, and a native medicine man had poulticed his leg and said that nothing was broken. Was it Old Billy? No, said the woodmen, it was Young Billy. But where was he? Titty only knew that he was somewhere on the other side of the moor and that she had come back down the valley and all along the side of the lake. The woodmen told Mary the Billies were working in the Heald Wood. Yes, of course, that was the name Young Billy had told Titty to tell Nancy and Peggy. And then Nancy and Peggy and Mary all tried at the same time to explain to Susan that it was too far to go there at once. And then Titty was trying to tell her that Roger couldn’t be better off than he was, and to tell John how she had tumbled with the compass and how they had thought it had gone wrong but it hadn’t, and how they had gone round in a circle without meaning to, and followed a beck going the wrong way, and how Roger couldn’t come back that night anyhow, because his foot was all bound up with brackens and the medicine man said he had to keep it still.

“We must have a stretcher-party,” said Nancy. “We’ll fetch him across first thing to-morrow.”

“Can we do it before mother comes?”

“Of course we can. It’s not far to the Heald Wood, going over the moor. Come on, John, let’s get the things from the cove.”

“We’ll have to start jolly early,” said John.

“Stretcher-party on the road soon after dawn,” said Nancy.

“So long as we’re back before mother comes,” said Susan. “It’d be awful if she found the camp empty, like we did.”

“She shan’t. Come along.”

“Well, you needn’t worry Mrs. Walker about him to-night,” said Mary. “No need to take on now you know where he is. And that’s a good thing. And now I’ve the pigs to see to. Good-night, Jack. Good-night, Bob. There’s no call for you lads to wait.”

“Good-night, Mary,” said the woodmen, rather sheepishly, and told their horses to come up. The great log on which Titty had travelled round from the valley beyond the moor moved on along the road.

“You’d think those lads had nothing else to do,” said Mary, looking after them, “loitering about.” But she waved her hand as they passed out of sight. “Now,” she said, “you folk had better take up enough milk for your breakfasts now, and then I’ll be bringing you the morning’s milk before Mrs. Walker comes, so that you’ll be off over the fell without wasting time coming down here for it.”

Susan and Titty went with Mary back to the farm, and waited by the orchard gate while she went in with the milk-can and brought it back brimming over with new milk. John, Nancy, and Peggy went down to Horseshoe Cove for the last of Amazon’s cargo. By the time they climbed up again into Swallowdale, Susan had supper ready.

Supper of weak tea and hot bread and milk was quickly over. Susan was thinking already far into the next morning, and wondering how bad Roger’s foot really was, and what could be done if she found it too bad for Roger to be moved. Peggy or John asked a question sometimes and Titty tried to tell them about the beck, and those other woods, and how startling it had been to see Kanchenjunga come up out of the fog when she had been thinking she was looking at the hills the other side of Rio. Sometimes a question of Titty’s set Nancy or Peggy talking of the fog on the lake and of how they had groped their way through it with the compass. But these little gusts of talk died very quickly. It had been a long day and everybody was thoroughly tired out.