Arthur Ransome - Swallows and Amazons (Complete Series)

“Shove her off, then, and put your back into it. We’ve got to be far out of this before anyone’s stirring.”

The noise of rowing began again. This time it grew rapidly fainter.

“They didn’t sound at all like friendly natives,” thought Titty to herself. She listened, open-mouthed, till she could hear no more, staring into the darkness. Her eyes closed once or twice. She tried to keep them open with her fingers. “I’m going to sleep again,” she said, “I know I am.”

She was right.

Table of Contents

With Mate Susan at the oars, Roger on the look-out in the bows, and Captain John at the tiller, the Swallow moved up the Amazon River in the rapidly gathering dusk. There were walls of reeds on each side, then a bit of meadowland where they could see the shapes of trees against the darkening sky, then reeds again, shutting them in as if they were in a lane between high walls. Suddenly the river broadened into a wide, open pool, with tall reeds all round it, except where the river entered and left it.

“This must be what they called the lagoon,” said Captain John. “It’s the very place for them to hide their ship in. I wish it wasn’t so dark.”

He put the tiller hard over to starboard, so that the Swallow turned sharply to port.

“It’s awful rowing if you steer with such a jerk,” said Susan.

“Sorry,” said John. “I want to keep close to the edge all round this place. I don’t want to miss her.”

“Something’s pulling at my oar,” said Susan, “I can’t lift it.”

The boat stopped moving.

John peered over the side.

“Water lilies,” he said. “It’s getting most awfully dark.”

“They hang on to my oars like octopuses,” said Susan.

“Perhaps they are octopuses,” said Roger. “Titty read to me about how they put their arms out long, and grab people even out of a boat.”

In Roger’s voice there were clear signs of panic in the forecastle. Captain John took command at once.

“Rubbish, Roger,” he said, “they aren’t octopuses. They’re only flowers.” He leaned over and picked one, not without difficulty. “Here you are,” he said. “Give it to him, Susan. Let him see for himself. They’re only flowers. Only their stalks are horribly tough. Try to pull out into the middle, Mister Mate.”

“All right. Only flowers,” said Roger, fingering the water lily and letting his fingers run down its stout slippery stalk. “But I wouldn’t mind even if they were octopuses.”

Susan did her best. But the blades of the oars caught under the broad, flat leaves of the water lilies and swept them together. The long, fat, smooth stalks of the water lilies tangled together and held the oars like strong ropes. She lost an oar overboard. She picked it up again at once, feeling for it, for it was hard to see Swallow’s brown oars in the dark water. Swallow moved as if she were being driven against something springy, which gave a little and then gathered strength and pushed her back.

“Bother these flowers,” said Roger.

“Let me row for a bit,” said John.

The captain and the mate changed places. John tried rowing without feathering, keeping the blades of his oars on a slant downwards and forwards so that when he pulled they would not go deep in the water and could not catch under the flat leaves. That was better. Presently Swallow was clear of the lilies.

“I can’t move the tiller,” said Susan. “Only a little way.”

“One of those lily stalks must be stuck between the rudder and the boat,” said Captain John. “Let me get at it.” He took off his coat, rolled up his sleeve, and plunged his arm into the water over the stern. Not one but half a dozen lily stalks were jammed together, wedging the rudder. He broke some of them and then pulled the bits through between the rudder and the keel.

“Clear now,” he said, and put out the oars again. He rowed on, telling Susan not to steer too near to the reeds, where the lilies were, and yet not to go too far from the edge. The struggle with the lilies had taken time and it was getting darker and darker.

“I say,” said Susan, “it’s too dark to find the Amazon now. Hadn’t we better give it up and go back?”

“If we waited till the morning we should find her all right,” said Captain John.

“But what about Titty?” said Susan. “Besides, Amazon may not be here at all.”

“She must be somewhere in the river,” said John. “But I forgot about Titty. We’ll go back.”

He turned the Swallow round and went on rowing.

“It’s no good steering,” said Susan, “I can’t see where to go.”

John tugged sharply at one of his oars.

“More lilies,” he said.

He pulled Swallow out of the lilies and she ran her nose into reeds.

“Do keep a look-out, Roger,” said the mate.

“There’s nothing to look at,” said Roger, “until it’s too late.”

It was a long time before they found the place where the river left the pool. They had rowed right across the opening once, being afraid to go too near the reeds. At last they decided that even if anyone saw a light here he would not suspect what it was, and used their electric torches. Roger could not get at his, but he used John’s, as John was rowing. Susan had her own. Even with the torches it was difficult. A pale light lit up, now here, now there, a patch of quivering reeds. But on either side of the patch of light was darkness. As they moved, the darkness turned to reeds when the round circle of light fell on it. At last they found a place where the lights showed a patch of reeds on each side, but nothing but darkness between them.

“This must be the opening,” said John.

He pulled a stroke or two towards the darkness. There was still clear water round the Swallow, but the torches showed reeds on right and left. The reeds were all bent the same way and, though John was resting on his oars, the Swallow drifted on in the direction in which the reeds were sloping. She was in the river at last.

John let the stream take the Swallow with it, using the oars only when she touched the reeds on either side.

“Don’t wave your torch in the air, Susan,” he said, “or some one may see us. We must be getting near the house. Put yours out, Roger. We don’t want to rouse the natives.”

Once or twice they ran into the reeds at bends of the river, but they freed themselves without difficulty.

Presently they saw the lights of the big house, standing away from the water.

“We must be near the boathouse now,” said John.

“Here it is,” said Susan.

John backwatered. “We must look into it again,” he said, “just to make sure.”

Susan flashed her torch into the boathouse. A bat flew out almost into their faces. The big motor launch lay there as before and the rowing boat. The Amazon’s berth was still empty.

“They must have hidden her somewhere up the river,” said John.

Just then the lights in the big house went out one by one.

“Dowse your glim, Mister Mate,” said Captain John. “They could see the light now if anyone were looking from those windows.”

He pulled Swallow into the river again. She drifted on in the darkness.

No one spoke for some time. The plan had failed, and the cutting-out expedition had come to nothing.

Suddenly they began to feel a little more wind.

“We must have reached the open sea,” said Captain John. “You can light up that torch, Mister Mate, and see what you can.”