Arthur Ransome - Swallows and Amazons (Complete Series)

“They won’t have had time with the wind against them,” said John, “but we ought to get away at once.”

“Come along,” said the boy.

They went back into the camp.

“Rations all ready, sir,” said Mate Susan. “I’m taking a big bottle of milk for us. We’ll put it in the bilge to keep cool. And I’m leaving a small bottle for the able-seaman. She’ll be making tea for herself. Mind you don’t let the fire go out, Titty,” she added. “If you want to go to sleep, you cover it up with earth, like the charcoal-burners. It’ll be cold at night.”

“I’m not going to sleep,” said Titty. “I shall watch by the camp fire, shrouded in my cloak.”

“Roger,” said Mate Susan, “go into your tent and put on two pairs of everything.”

“Everything?” said Roger.

“Everything,” said the mate. “Two vests, two pairs of drawers, two shirts, two pairs of knickerbockers, two pairs of stockings.”

“I can’t put on two pairs of shoes,” said Roger.

“You won’t have to. March. Put on two of everything else. Pretend you’re going to the North Pole.”

“Two ties?” said Roger, going into the tent.

“And jolly well buck up,” said the captain. “There’s no time to lose.” He went off with Titty to step the mast, and get the sail ready. Susan came down to the landing-place with the stores.

“Isn’t it a good thing we haven’t got a centre-board, like the Amazon,” she said, as she pushed the biscuit tin under the thwart.

“A centre-board’s all right when you’re sailing against the wind in a narrow place,” said the captain, “but Swallow does very well without, and centre-boards do take up a lot of room.”

Susan went back for the milk. She brought both bottles, the big and the little.

“Look here, Titty,” she said, “I’m putting your bottle in the water here, to keep it cool. Don’t go and forget where it is.”

Just then the boy Roger strutted down to the landing-place. He was as round as a football, and his arms stuck out stiffly at each side.

The captain and the able-seaman laughed. But the mate looked at him critically.

“He ought to be warm enough like that,” she said, “but we’ll take a lot of blankets as well, in case.”

She ran up to the tents for the last time, and came back laden with blankets.

“Have we got everything?” asked Captain John. “I’ve got the compass. What about your torches? I’ve got mine.”

“Mine’s in my pocket,” said Susan.

“I’ve got mine,” said the boy, “but I can’t get at it. It’s in the pocket of my underneath shirt.”

“Never mind,” said Captain John. “We’ll get it out when we want it. Then there’s the telescope.”

“Oughtn’t I to have the telescope, keeping watch?” said Titty.

John thought for a moment.

“Yes,” he said, “I think you ought.” He handed it over. He took a last look over the ship. “All aboard,” he said, and the mate and the boy climbed in and went to the stern. The captain pushed, and as the Swallow floated off he set a knee on her bows and a moment later was busy with the sail. “You won’t forget about the lights, Titty,” he called. “Everything may depend on them if it’s very dark. Lighthouse soon after dusk, and then when you hear us make owl calls, light the candle-lanterns on the harbour marks.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” said Titty. “Swallows for ever.”

In another minute John hoisted up the sail and made fast. He hauled down the boom till the crinkle ran up the sail instead of across it. He made that fast too. They drifted out of the lee of the island. Then the wind caught them. With this fair wind the whole crew of the Swallow sat together in the stern. The mate was steering. The boom was well out on the starboard side, and the little ship with her brown sail slipped swiftly away in the sunshine.

“Hurrah,” shouted Titty, running up to the look-out place, and standing under the tree that was now a lighthouse.

“Hurrah, hurrah,” came back over the water from the Swallow.

The able-seaman watched them with the telescope until the brown sail disappeared behind the Peak of Darien. She then became Robinson Crusoe, and went down into the camp to take command of her island.

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She looked round the camp, and felt at once that there was something wrong. There were two tents, and a shipwrecked mariner on a desert island ought only to have one. For a moment she thought of taking down the captain’s tent, but then she remembered that for part of the time she would not be a shipwrecked mariner, but would be in charge of an explorers’ camp, while the main body had sailed away on a desperate expedition. During that part of the time the more tents there were the better. So she decided not to take down the captain’s tent. “It’s Man Friday’s tent,” she said to herself. “Of course I haven’t discovered him yet. But it’s ready for him when the time comes.”

Then she went into the tent that belonged to her and to the mate. It was still a very Susanish tent. Susan had taken her blankets, but she had left her haybag. It was quite clear that it was a tent belonging to two people and not a tent belonging to a lonely, shipwrecked sailor. So the able-seaman took Susan’s haybag, and put it on the top of her own, and spread her blankets over the two of them. At once the tent became hers and hers alone, and it would be easy enough to put the mate’s haybag back in its place when it was time to be on guard over a whole camp.

She lay down on the two haybags. The sun glowed through the white canvas of the tent, and through the doorway she could see smoke rising from the smouldering fire. She began to feel that she was really alone. Even the buzzing of the bees in the heather just behind the tent helped to make her feel that there was no one else on the island. She listened for other noises. Birds were not singing much, but a sandpiper was whistling somewhere near. There was the lapping of water against the western shore, and now and again the faint rustling of wind in the leaves. But there were no human noises at all. Nobody was clattering tins. Nobody was washing up plates. Roger was not there to be looked after. Susan was not there to be looking after both of them. John was not at the look-out place, or splicing ropes in Swallow at the other end of the island. Nothing was being done by anybody on the island. Nothing would be done if she did not do it herself. It was like being the only person in the world.

Suddenly she heard the chug, chug, chug of a steamer on its way down the lake. On ordinary days nobody bothered much about steamers except Roger, but to-day, on hearing it, Able-seaman Titty jumped up and ran out of the tent into the sunlight. Through the trees on the western shore she could see the steamer passing the island a long way off. She looked at it through the telescope. There were a lot of people on deck, and she could see one of the sailors at the wheel. Perhaps the people on the steamer were looking at the island. They did not know that there was nobody on the island except one able-seaman who had been wrecked there five-and-twenty years before. Of course, that was because she had not waved a flag to show that she was there, and waiting to be rescued. But who would wave a flag to be rescued if they had a desert island of their own? That was the thing that spoilt Robinson Crusoe. In the end he came home. There never ought to be an end.

The steamer hurried on down the lake, and Titty followed it through the trees on the high western shore of the island. The path to the harbour was turning into a regular beaten track. “It really looks as if I’d been here for years and years,” said Titty, “but it’s a pity I’ve got no goats. Goats would soon have nibbled off all these branches that hang across the path, and catch your hair if you try to run along it in a hurry.” She took out her knife and began pruning the branches to make the path better. Every branch that hung across the path and was low enough to be in the way she broke or cut off until by working hard she had cleared the track the whole way to the harbour. Then she ran along it both ways, to the camp and back to the harbour again. Now it really was a path. What a funny thing it was that no one had thought of clearing it sooner. Somehow there was always more time to do things when you were alone.