Arthur Ransome - Swallows and Amazons (Complete Series)

“It’s all right,” he said, “it’s going the other way. Probably a fisherman. When it’s calm like this they just row along the shore and tow a spinner to catch pike.”

“Sharks,” said Roger.

“The first thing to do,” said Mate Susan, “is to make a fire on the shore and have our grub. Then we can gather firewood and stow it in Swallow.”

“Right, Mister Mate,” said Captain John. “All hands to gather firewood. We can get enough for the fire and then go on gathering firewood while the mate is boiling the kettle.”

Mate Susan built a small fireplace of stones on the beach close by Swallow. The others gathered dry sticks that had been left all along high-water mark. Susan took a few handfuls of dry leaves and moss. She put them in the middle of her fireplace and built a little wigwam over them with bits of dried reeds from last year. It was like a little copy of the charcoal-burners’ hut. Then she lit the moss and the reeds blazed up, while she built another wigwam over the reeds, this time of small sticks, all meeting at the middle over the blaze. When they caught fire and began to crackle she piled bigger sticks against the small ones. In a few minutes she had a strong fire. At one side of the fireplace she had put two big stones, and on these she balanced the kettle so that most of it was over the flames. She stayed by the fire, putting more and more sticks on it and keeping the flames as much under the kettle as possible, while the others, scattering along the beach, gathered as much firewood as they could carry. It lay there, ready for picking up. There was no need to look for it, and soon the pile of firewood was growing much faster than Susan used it up for the boiling of her kettle.

It was very hot, and the smoke of the fire went straight up. Even so some of it got into her eyes, and the sharp smell of it got into her nose and mouth. But it was not such hot work boiling the kettle as it was gathering firewood, and presently Roger said, “It must be boiling now.” Titty threw a bundle of firewood on the growing pile. “It’s boiling now, isn’t it?” she said. “I’m too hot to gather any more.”

“It’ll change its tune in a minute,” said the mate.

“Like the cuckoo,” said Titty, “except that kettles change their tune as soon as they boil, and don’t wait till June.”

Just then the kettle did change its tune. Susan blew her whistle to let Captain John know that grub was ready. “Sit down, you fo’c’sle hands,” she said to the able-seaman and the boy. They sat down. Captain John came back, very hot, with a huge bundle of firewood on his back. He had doubled a long piece of string and brought it round the sticks to keep them together.

After dinner they went on gathering firewood. The captain and the able-seaman and the boy gathered it, and Susan sorted it and packed it in Swallow. It is always the mate’s business to see to the stowage of cargo. Presently, when they had gathered all the best firewood on that stretch of beach, they embarked, and rowed along the shore and brought her in again in a bay, the shores of which were brown with dry sticks. Swallow was soon so full of firewood that there was hardly room for her crew.

“She won’t hold much more,” said the mate.

“She’s down to her load line already,” said the captain.

“That’ll do, then,” said the mate, but just then came Titty, dragging after her the whole of a small dead tree that had been blown down in the great storm of the last winter. It was quite dry and fine for firewood, and nobody wanted to leave it behind.

“We’ll have to carry it as deck cargo,” said Captain John.

Swallow was already so laden that they could hardly push her off. The mate ordered Titty and Roger aboard, and sent them to the stern. Then she and the captain took their shoes and stockings off, and, one each side, pulled Swallow out until she floated. It was very unpleasant walking without shoes and stockings on the stones, but pleasant to feel the water.

“I want to take my shoes and stockings off,” said Roger.

“You can’t now,” said the mate.

“Wait till we get back to Wild Cat Island,” said the captain, splashing ashore to fetch Titty’s tree. “Then you can take your shoes and stockings off, and help to discharge cargo. And then we’ll all bathe before supper.”

Meanwhile, Titty and Roger were clambering over the cargo to settle themselves in the bows. John brought the tree, and with Susan’s help balanced it amidships, sticking out on either side. Then he and Susan came aboard. Rowing was impossible, because of the deck cargo. Captain John carefully pulled out one oar, and paddled with it over the stern.

“It’s a good thing it’s so calm,” said the mate, looking at the water, which was not very far below the gunwale.

LOADING FIREWOOD

Sculling over the stern is slower than rowing, but in the dead calm Swallow moved easily, heavily loaded though she was, and no water came aboard, though some nearly did when Roger suddenly changed his mind about the side of the boat that he liked best.

“We’ll take her to the old landing-place,” said Captain John. “That’s a good place for landing a cargo, and we want the wood handy for the camp.”

“It would be a dreadful business carrying it all the way from the harbour,” said the mate.

So Swallow was carefully sculled up the lake to the island, and beached at the old landing-place. Titty and Roger had pulled off their shoes and stockings before they arrived there, and two pairs of shoes and two pairs of rolled-up stockings went flying ashore as soon as the ship touched the ground. A moment later the whole ship’s company was in the water, pulling up the ship and discharging her cargo. The mate settled down to make a neat stack of the wood like the long piles they had seen by the wigwam of the charcoal-burners. Titty’s tree was laid aside to be broken up later. Then, when all the sizeable sticks had been taken out, Captain John went aboard the Swallow to pick up all the small bits and chips and broken twigs and dead leaves that were lying all over the bottom boards. It is surprising what a mess a ship is in after carrying a cargo of any kind, and small firewood is as untidy a cargo as you can have. It was a long time before Swallow looked as neat and trim as she had done when they had rowed away that morning. When at last there was not a dead leaf or a twig as big as a match to be seen in her, John pushed her off, and paddled her round to the harbour. He took the mast from where it had been hidden in the bushes, and stepped it again. He put the sails aboard, and tried the halyards to see that the traveller on the mast was working properly. It would never do for the wind to get up and the Swallow not to be ready to put to sea at a moment’s notice. Then he walked through the trees to join his crew at the other end of the island.

They had already stacked the wood, and close beside the fireplace Susan had heaped up a lot of pieces of turf.

“What’s that for?”

“That’s to keep the fire in, like the charcoal-burners do,” said Susan. “I’m going to try it to-night.”

John walked on to his tent.

He stopped suddenly.

“Someone’s been here.”

In the middle of the doorway of his tent a stick had been stuck into the ground, and in a cleft at the top of the stick there was a small folded piece of white paper.

The others came running. John opened the piece of paper. On it was written in big plain letters:—

“Called to tell you that you had jolly well better leave my houseboat alone. Once is quite enough. No joking.