Arthur Ransome - Swallows and Amazons (Complete Series)

She was not in Rio Bay. Four pairs of eyes searched every little jetty. She might have tied up and lowered her sail, in which case she would be hard to see. She might have slipped in behind the islands that made the Bay so good a sheltered anchorage for yachts and so suitable a playground for all these noisy natives with their rowing boats.

“We’ll sail right through the Bay,” said Captain John, “and out into the open water, so that we can see right up towards the Arctic. If we can’t see her then we’ll turn back and cruise among the islands.”

The Swallow slipped through the Bay, and almost as soon as she was clear of the long island that lies in front of the town, there was an eager shout from Roger, “Sail Ho!”

“It’s her,” shouted Susan.

From the northern entrance of the Bay, beyond the long island, it was possible to see far up the lake, a long blue sheet of water stretching away into bigger hills than those which rose from the wooded banks of the southern part.

Little over a mile away a small white sail was moving rapidly towards a promontory on the western shore. In a moment or two it disappeared.

“What shall we do now?” said Titty.

There was a short debate.

Roger was all for going on. John thought not.

“We know just where they are now,” he said. “They may be trying to draw us away from the island. If we sail down there, and they come out again, we might have to race them back to our own island. If we stay here we can be sure of getting back there before they do. I think we’d better stay here and eat our pemmican and see whether they come out or not.”

Susan said, “What about the grog?” And that made them all feel thirsty and hungry.

“But they might come out while we are buying grog in Rio,” said John. “They might slip through behind the islands, and then when we come back from Rio we might be waiting here while they are capturing our camp.”

Titty had an idea. There were plenty of small islets at this end of the big islands that sheltered Rio Bay. Why not put her ashore on one of them to watch while they sailed into Rio for the grog. Then at least they could be sure of knowing whether the pirates had come out again or not.

“Good for Titty,” said Captain John.

There was a small islet with nothing on it but rocks and heather only a hundred yards away. They sailed to leeward of it, and then John put Swallow’s head up into the wind.

“Keep a look-out for rocks under water, Roger,” said the mate.

Swallow slipped along with sail flapping, yard by yard nearer to the islet.

“Stand by to lower the sail, Mister Mate,” said John, and Susan made ready to lower away in a hurry. But there was no need. The islet rose out of water deep enough to let the Swallow lie afloat close alongside it. There was the gentlest little bump, and Titty was over the side and ashore.

“The telescope,” she said.

“Here it is,” said the mate.

“Push her off,” said John, putting the tiller hard aport.

Titty pushed. The Swallow moved backwards. Then her sail filled, she hesitated, heeled over a little, and began to move forward again. Titty waved her hand and climbed to the top of the islet, and sat there resting the telescope on her knees.

Three or four short tacks brought the Swallow to the nearest of the landing stages for rowing boats that run out from the shore in Rio Bay. Roger climbed on to the landing stage, took two turns round a bollard with the painter, and then sat himself on the top of it. To be on the safe side they lowered the sail. Then John and Susan hurried up the landing stage to the little store where you could buy anything from mouse-traps to peppermints.

“Four bottles of grog, please,” said John without thinking.

“Ginger beer,” said Susan gravely.

John was looking at a coil of rope in a corner of the shop.

“And twenty yards of this rope,” he said.

The shopman measured off twenty yards and made a neat coil of them. He put four bottles of ginger beer on the counter. John put down his five shillings. He took the coil of rope and two of the bottles. Susan took the other two.

“It’s a grand day,” said the shopman as he handed out the change.

“Yes, isn’t it?” said John.

This was the whole of their conversation with the natives of Rio.

When they came back to the landing stage, Roger said, “One of the natives came and said, ‘That’s a fine little ship you have there.’ ”

ROGER ON GUARD

“What did you say to him?” asked Susan sternly.

“I said ‘Yes,’ ” said Roger. He, too, had been giving nothing away.

They sailed back to the islet for Titty. She waved to them when she saw them coming, and was at the water’s edge ready to climb in when John brought Swallow alongside.

“It’s all right,” she said. “They haven’t come out. They must be still in there behind that promontory.”

“Well, I’m glad we know, anyway,” said John.

“May I land on Titty’s island?” said Roger.

“Why not all land and have dinner on it?” said Susan.

So they lowered the sail and landed, taking the anchor with them and letting Swallow lie in the lee of the island at the end of the anchor rope. A rock on the top of the islet made a table. John opened the pemmican tin, and jerked it till the pemmican came out all in one lump. Susan cut up the loaf and spread the butter, so that no one slice should be thicker spread than another. On the hunks of bread and butter they put hunks of pemmican, and washed them down with deep draughts of Rio grog out of the stone bottles. Then they ate the apples. All the time they kept a close watch on the promontory where the little white sail of the pirate ship had disappeared.

“They may never have seen us at all,” said Susan.

“I’m sure they did or they would never have hoisted that flag,” said John.

“Perhaps,” said Titty, “there were more of them. Perhaps these ones showed their flag so as to draw us away from the island while some of their allies landed there and took our camp.”

“I never thought of that,” said John. “There may have been a whole fleet of them waiting for us to go.”

“They may be on our island now,” said Titty.

“Anyway, let’s sail,” said Roger, who was never happy unless he could hear the water under Swallow’s forefoot.

It was lively work sailing home, tacking through the native shipping in Rio Bay, and then beating against the south-west wind which met them squarely once they had left the shelter of the islands. They thought of taking in a reef, but did not want to if they could help it. There were hardish squalls now and again, and Mate Susan stood by ready to slip the halyard and bring the sail down if it was necessary. Roger got so wet with the spray splashing in over the bows that Susan made him come aft and sit in the bottom of the boat. There was no time to think of anything but the sailing until they came in under the lee of their own island. In Houseboat Bay the man on the houseboat got up from his chair on the after-deck and looked at them through binoculars. But they hardly noticed him.

“Wind’ll drop at sunset,” said John. “We’ll land at the old landing-place. Swallow will be in good shelter there, and I’ll take her round to the harbour later on when it isn’t blowing so hard.”

So they landed at the old place. As soon as they landed they ran in a bunch up to their camp and looked into the tents. Then they went all over the island. Everything was just as they had left it. Nobody had been there. The pirates in the Amazon had had no allies.