Arthur Ransome - Swallows and Amazons (Complete Series)

When each of the Swallows had eaten two perch, so that four were left in the frying-pan, Susan sent the boy up the look-out to see if the Amazon was in sight. He was back in a moment.

“No sail in sight,” he said, “but there’s a big boat going out of Houseboat Bay.”

“They won’t be here till after breakfast,” said Susan. “That’s another perch all round.”

“I wonder what is happening,” said John.

“Don’t think about him,” said Susan.

“All right. I won’t,” said John.

As soon as breakfast was over and done with, everybody set to work to tidy up. “I’ll look after the camp,” said the mate, “if you want to clean up Swallow. Take the boy and the able-seaman, and set them scrubbing decks and polishing up the brass-work.”

“There isn’t much brass-work,” said Roger.

“There are the belaying pins,” said Titty.

“Well, go and polish them up,” said the mate. “You can do a lot with sand and a damp rag. Here are two rags. Get along with you. Clear all the dirt out, and rub all over with a wet rag, and make her look like a new ship.”

“I’m going to bring the sail up to the camp,” said John. “It wants lacing again to the gaff, and I can do the reef points best when the sail isn’t bent.”

“I don’t care so long as you don’t get in my way,” said Susan. “I’ve got the pots to clean.”

“We’ll take Swallow round to the harbour and moor her so that she’s all snug in her berth when the Amazons come,” said John.

He went down to the landing-place with the able-seaman. The boy had run on before and was already aboard. They pushed off and paddled her round to the harbour, where they had left the mast and sail when they went fishing before breakfast. John stepped the mast and hoisted Titty’s flag to the masthead. The boy and the able-seaman stayed aboard to do their polishing and cleaning. John moored Swallow with a warp over her stern and the painter from her bows, so that she floated at one side of the harbour, leaving room for the Amazon to come in.

“You can slack up the stern warps and haul on the painter when you want to come ashore,” he said.

“Aye, aye, sir,” said the able-seaman and the boy, already busy scrubbing the thwarts and cleaning all the dirt from the bottom boards.

The captain took the rolled-up sail with its boom and gaff, balanced them over his shoulder and carried them back to the camp. There he dumped them on the ground. Susan had just finished her washing-up.

“I’ll just go up to the look-out and see if those boats have gone,” he said.

Susan looked up.

“It’s no good thinking about him,” she said. “Just don’t think about him at all.”

“That’s all very well,” said John, “but I can’t help it.”

“Come on and help me to hang out the blankets,” said Susan.

“The Amazons may be in sight,” said John.

“Never mind if they are,” said Susan.

They took the blankets from the tents and hung them over the tent ropes that were stretched to the trees. Then they pummelled the haybags, which had got very lumpy. They shook them and pushed them and pulled them about until they were a little less like half-empty sacks of round Dutch cheeses and a little more like mattresses.

Then Susan started scraping the saucepan and the frying-pan and cleaning the black off them with fine sand. At least, it was not very fine sand, but it was the finest she could get.

“I’m going to leave the kettle just as black as it is,” she said. “It looks fine.”

John spread the sail out flat on the ground, undid the lacings and freed it from the gaff and the boom. He settled down with some fine stuff, thin string, to finish off the ragged reef points with neat splices, cutting the frayed ends away with his knife.

This took a long time, and then he noticed that one of the seams in the sail was giving. An inch or two of stitching had come undone. John went into his tent and rummaged in his box.

“Lucky we brought a sailmaker’s needle,” he said as he came back.

“Luckier if you knew how to use it,” said the mate a moment or two later, when she looked up and saw the captain sucking his thumb.

“Well, it isn’t my fault,” said the captain. “Real sailmakers push the needle through with a lump of leather in the palm of their hand.”

“Let’s have a look,” said the mate.

Between them they made a pretty fair job of the seam. John’s reef points were very good indeed. “If life was only splices,” his father had said the year before, “you would have nothing left to learn.”

With Susan’s help he stretched the sail along the gaff and began to lace it. They were both so intent on this that they saw nothing of a boat that pulled in to the landing-place until they heard it scrunch on the beach.

They looked up to see a large policeman, in his shirt-sleeves, pulling in his oars. He got up, balancing heavily, and stepped ashore. Then he picked up his coat, which was lying in the bows of his rowing boat, and walked straight up to the camp. He was very hot, and as he walked he struggled with his coat until at last he got out of it a big red handkerchief, with which he mopped his face. He looked down on the captain and the mate.

“Good morning,” said John politely.

“Morning,” said the big policeman. “Busy?”

“Yes, rather,” said John.

“Cooler work than rowing in this weather.”

“Have you come a long way?” asked Susan, who was wondering what she could give him to drink.

“Aye,” said the policeman, “I have. And what might you be doing here, is what I want to know.”

“This is our camp,” said John. “Won’t you sit down and rest yourself? I’m sorry we haven’t any beer, but there are one or two bananas still left on that tree.”

The policeman grunted and did not say “Thank you.” With another struggle he pulled a notebook and a pencil out of his coat.

“Name and address, please,” said the policeman.

“My name is John Walker,” said John. “This is our address.”

“Walker, John,” said the policeman, writing. He mopped his face again. “Address?”

“Here.”

“Where?”

“Here.”

“That won’t do,” said the policeman. “Where do you live?”

“In these tents.”

The policeman walked round to the tents and looked into them.

Susan protested.

“We haven’t made our beds yet,” she said.

Just then there was a cheerful noise of whistling from the other end of the island.

“Any more of you?” said the policeman.

“Lots,” said John.

“Now, look here,” said the policeman, “and answer me straight. When did you go aboard Mr. Turner’s houseboat?”

“We’ve never been near it,” said John, “except once when I went to talk to Mr. Turner.”

“Come, come,” said the policeman. “That won’t wash at all. Why, the mess it’s in . . .”

“Sammy!”

A clear, ringing voice made the policeman turn round sharp.

“Sammy, I’m ashamed of you. If you don’t go away at once I’ll tell your mother.”

“I’m sure I beg pardon, Miss Ruth,” said the policeman, turning redder than ever. “I thought they’d know something about the burglary if anybody did, seeing that they’ve been at the houseboat before. I had no sort of idea they were friends of yours.”

“Of course they are,” said Captain Nancy, coming into the camp and dumping a bundle of tent poles. “They’ve never had anything to do with Uncle Jim’s houseboat. You go away back to Uncle Jim and tell him so. Or shall we take his boat and keep him prisoner?” she added, turning to John.

“No, don’t do that, Miss Ruth,” said the policeman. “Not to-day. I’ve got to row right down to the foot of the lake.”