Arthur Ransome - Swallows and Amazons (Complete Series)

“It’s almost a pity we can’t let him do it,” said Nancy.

“Well, it’s such a tremendous way,” said Susan.

“It isn’t really that that matters,” said Nancy. “It never matters how far you go. Exploring’s only going next door, but it’s going on going next door without turning back. But if there aren’t any shops on the way, what are you going to do? It really all depends on you and Peggy making the food and water last out.”

“Of course there’s an awful lot of food,” said Susan, “but we don’t really know how much. Peggy and I have only just begun to go through the lists.”

“If it wasn’t for having all of us on board he’d be going,” said Nancy.

“Yes,” said Susan, “I suppose he would.”

With wind and tide to help her, the Wild Cat soon passed Egypt Point. Cowes was no longer to be seen. A big liner with four funnels was coming up the Solent. “In from New York,” said Captain Flint, who had come out from the deckhouse and was looking at the liner through binoculars.

“Water all the way,” said Titty.

“What do you mean?” said Peggy. “Of course it’s water all the way.”

“That’s the lovely thing about water. Salt water, I mean. It’s not like the lake. Once you’re on it, there’s nothing to stop you going anywhere.”

Captain Flint looked at her hopefully.

“There really isn’t,” he said. “Titty’s quite right.”

“May I look through the glasses?” said Roger.

The others came aft, and crowded into the deckhouse to look at the chart, to see just what was happening, and then crowded out again to look at buoys and landmarks and to make sure that they had seen right. It was a grand day now, of bright sunshine, with a steady, cool wind. It was enough to make anybody happy, just to be afloat and sailing, to see the green shores racing past, to see the bubbling wake slipping away astern, to see all the sails drawing, to hear now and then a gentle, low thrumming in the shrouds, to see the sunlight sparkle in the spray thrown out to leeward by the bows of the little schooner.

“I wish this was going on for ever,” said Titty.

“No sense in stopping while this wind holds,” said old Mr. Duck, who was at the wheel, steering her so easily, so steadily that her bowsprit end drew only the tiniest of circles on the sky, and the compass seemed stuck in its bowl, and the wake the Wild Cat left astern might have been drawn with a ruler. There was need for careful steering now, for she was heading south-west through the Needles Channel, and the wind was dead aft.

“We seem to have lost Black Jake all right,” said Nancy.

“He’s probably gone back to look for us,” said John.

“He’s racing us,” said Roger. “Miles ahead.”

But just then, as the Needle Rocks, dark above the blue sunlit sea, drew into a line with the lighthouse on the last of them, and the little group in the stern of the Wild Cat could see past the point and behind the white, green-topped cliffs, Captain Flint gave a startled grunt. Peter Duck glanced over his shoulder.

“It’s a rare bad anchorage that in most winds,” he said, “but good enough in north-easterlies. He knew what was coming. Nothing to do but to lift his peaks and be after us again.”

“Is it really the Viper?” asked Peggy, looking at a schooner that seemed to be airing her sails, anchored under the lee of the land.

“Of course it is,” said Nancy. “There’s his headsails going up. He’s been waiting for us.”

The sails of the black schooner filled, and slowly, sheltered by the land, she gathered way. The Wild Cat was no longer alone.

“But why did he wait for us?” said Peggy.

“What a galoot you are,” said her sister. “Don’t you see now? He thinks Mr. Duck’s sailing with us to show us where the treasure is. He means to come too.”

“Well, it’s waste of time for him,” said Susan. “Won’t he be mad when we turn round to go home?”

“But,” said Titty, “if he doesn’t want to lose us, why didn’t he come to Cowes with us last night and anchor close by?”

“Why should he?” said Peter Duck. “That’s not his way. He don’t want to lose his men ashore, for one thing. Then he’s told them he’d pick us up this morning coming out by the Needles. Well, here we are. That sort of thing sets a skipper up with his crew. You see, he’s dead certain sure he knows the port we’re bound for.”

“I wish he was right,” said Captain Flint.

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Anybody who had not known the truth and had just seen the Wild Cat and the Viper, sailing down Channel that bright summer morning, would have thought that they were friendly ships cruising in company. For the black schooner no longer kept its distance from the green, but sailed nearer and nearer, coming up first on one side and then on the other, luffing into the wind and waiting for the Wild Cat, and then swooping after her again. It was as if Black Jake wanted to show them that his was the faster vessel and that he did not mean to leave them.

Nobody liked it. Until that morning after leaving Cowes it had not occurred to any one of them, except, perhaps, to Peter Duck, that there was anything in the Viper of which they might have reason to be afraid. After all, what was she but another vessel, bowling down Channel, and sharing with them the same good wind? The English Channel is one of the great highways free to all the world. The Viper had as much right to be sailing down it as the Wild Cat. If she followed the Wild Cat from curiosity, why, as Nancy said, “A cat may look at a king, and why shouldn’t a viper look at a cat?” “Specially a wild one,” said Titty. But when it came to Black Jake’s being so sure of them that he waited for them by the Needles, and then came sailing after them without any pretence that he was doing this by accident, nobody liked it at all.

It was like being followed about by some stranger in the street. The thought of it spoilt altogether what should have been a delightful bit of sailing. They had a grand run across the bay and past St. Alban’s Head, far enough off-shore to keep outside the race, but just not too far to let them see, through the glasses and the telescopes, the old ruined chapel on the top of the hill. Then, from a long way out to sea, they saw the long, low wedge of Portland Bill. Here, too, they passed outside the race, where, sometimes, the sea goes almost mad, flinging itself all ways at once, so that even in calm weather little ships keep clear of it if they can. But always, close to them, sailed their strange unwelcome consort, so near that they could see Black Jake at the wheel, and three or four other men, and once caught sight of the red-haired boy hurrying along the deck.

“This is a bit too much of a good thing,” said Captain Flint at last. “I’ll show him we don’t want his company.”

“We might try it,” said Mr. Duck, and he called all hands on deck.

Next time the Viper was a little ahead of the Wild Cat, Captain Flint suddenly put the helm down and luffed up under the Viper’s stern. The crew rattled in the sheets. Up she came into the wind. Jib and staysail were let fly. The Wild Cat paid off on the other tack and was heading back up Channel, for Portland and the Wight.

“He couldn’t have a plainer hint than that,” said Captain Flint.

“She’s coming round,” said Titty.

The Viper was doing exactly what the Wild Cat had done, and was heading up Channel in pursuit of her.