Arthur Ransome - Swallows and Amazons (Complete Series)

“Perhaps,” said their mothers.

The packing of Mr. Jackson’s boat came first. Captain Flint lent a hand, and it did not take long. The sodden tents were rolled up. “I’ll spread them to dry after,” said Mr. Jackson. The blankets were stuffed into a sack. Nancy wanted to empty the hay out of the haybags to make a last blaze on the camp fire. “Nay,” said Mr. Jackson, “it’s good hay that.” So it was spared to be eaten by cows. All the Swallows’ things were stowed in Jackson’s boat. Nothing was left but the big kettle, for making tea, stores for the day, the parrot cage, and John’s tin box.

“You don’t want that,” said mother.

“It’s got the ship’s papers in it,” said Captain John.

“We’ll keep our tent,” said Captain Nancy, “but we shan’t want our sleeping-bags and things.”

At last the natives were ready to go.

Captain Flint said “Good-bye.”

“Are you going too?” said Titty.

“I’m going in the launch with the others,” he said. “I’ve something to say to your mother about next year. And I’ve a lot to do, for I’m going to London to-morrow. There’s that monkey to see about, you know. But I’ll keep a look-out for you towards evening.”

At last the launch chug, chugged away from the island, with the two rowing boats towing astern, Captain Flint’s on a short painter, and Mr. Jackson’s on a long one, from the port and starboard quarters. The natives waved as the launch moved off.

“Good-bye, Swallows,” called Mrs. Blackett. “I shall expect you others when I see you.”

“Don’t be late,” called mother. “If you’re home by seven, I’ll bring Vicky down to the boathouse. She’d like to meet the sailors coming home from sea with a parrot. Good-bye, Amazons.”

“Good-bye, good-bye,” called Nancy and Peggy. “You will promise to come again next year?”

“We’ll come,” said mother.

After they were gone the Swallows and Amazons looked at each other. They were rather glum.

“It’s the natives,” said Nancy. “Too many of them. They turn everything into a picnic.”

“Mother doesn’t,” said Titty.

“Nor does ours when she’s alone,” said Nancy.

“And Captain Flint’s not a bit like a native when he’s by himself,” said Titty.

“It’s when they all get together,” said Nancy. “They can’t help themselves, poor things.”

“Well, they’ve gone now,” said Peggy. “Let’s go on with the shipwreck. This is the day after we were thrown ashore. Now we’ve got to settle down for twenty years to watch for passing sails.”

“But we’re going home this afternoon,” said Roger.

“You needn’t say so,” said Titty.

But it was no good. Everybody knew, and nobody could get back into the old mood.

“We ought to bale the ships,” said John.

That was better. It was something that had to be done. There was a lot of water in both the ships. The wet thwarts were steaming and drying in the sun, which was already hot, but the sails were very wet. They hoisted the sails to dry them, and then went back to the camp.

The camp looked much smaller. There were pale, unhealthy patches where the Swallows’ tents had stood and bleached the grass under the ground-sheets by hiding it from the sun. The Amazons’ tent stood alone and forlorn without its companions.

“Come on,” said Nancy. “We’ve got to take it down anyway—to strike it, I mean—so we may as well set about it.”

It was stiff work getting the poles out of the hems in the wet canvas, but everybody helped. The tent was loosely rolled up. The poles were taken to pieces, and made into a bundle, and wrapped in the ground-sheet.

The Swallows and Amazons looked sadly round their camping ground. There was now nothing but the fireplace with its feebly burning fire, the square pale patches where the tents had been, the parrot’s cage in a patch of sunlight, and Susan’s kettle and a few mugs and the pemmican tin and the bunloaf and John’s tin box, to show that it had ever been the home of the explorers and their pirate friends.

“When we’ve gone,” said Titty, “someone else may discover it. They’ll know it’s a camp because of the fireplace, but they’ll think the natives made it.”

“If anybody takes it, we’ll barbecue them,” said Nancy Blackett. “It’s our island, yours and ours, and we’ll defend it against anybody.”

“We’re going to school at the end of the summer,” said Peggy.

“So are we,” said Susan.

“Well, we shan’t be at school for ever,” said Nancy. “We’ll be grown up, and then we’ll live here all the year round.”

“So will we,” said Titty, “and in the winter we’ll fetch our food over the ice in sledges.”

“I shall be going to sea some day,” said John, “and so will Roger. But we’ll always come back here on leave.”

“I shall bring my monkey,” said Roger.

“And the parrot shall always come,” said Titty.

“Well, it’s no good hanging about,” said Nancy. “Let’s put to sea.”

Everything left was carried down to the harbour and stowed in the ships. Susan emptied the kettle on the fire. Titty took the parrot all over the island, so that when they got home it would remember her favourite places. At the last minute John thought of the rope for hoisting the lantern on the lighthouse tree. He ran back there and loosed one end of the rope, so that it ran over the bough high overhead and came down with a thump on the damp ground. He coiled it and brought it to the harbour.

Then they put to sea. The waves had gone down and so had the wind, but there was still a strong swell.

“Wind’s from the south,” said Captain Nancy. “We’ll beat into it. We know a fine place for a landing down the lake. And then we’ll have the wind with us for the run home.”

“We’ll follow you,” said Captain John. He wanted Swallow to be the last to leave.

In Swallow, Roger was in the bows, Able-seaman Titty and the big parrot cage in the bottom of the boat just aft of the mast, and Susan and John in the stern. John was steering.

Soon after they had worked Swallow out of the harbour and she was sailing on the port tack, Titty, who had been talking to the parrot, said, “Captain John, how are we to put Polly on the Ship’s Articles?”

“We’ve got a captain and a mate, and an able-seaman and a boy. I’ll sign him on as ship’s parrot,” said Captain John.

“Have you got the ship’s papers here?” asked Titty. “It would never do for him to sign on after the voyage was over.”

John handed the tiller to the mate, opened his tin box, and dug out the Articles that had been signed by everybody, so long ago, on the Peak of Darien. There was plenty of room for another hand. He wrote, “Polly, Ship’s Parrot.” Then he gave the paper to the able-seaman.

“You’ll have to sign for him,” he said.

But the able-seaman had opened the parrot’s cage, and the parrot came out in a stately manner, as if he knew he was wanted on business.

“You can’t exactly sign,” said Titty. “But lots of sailors can’t. You must wet your dirty claw and make your mark.”

“Pieces of eight,” said the parrot.

“He’s asking about his pay,” said John.

The able-seaman wetted the parrot’s very dirty claw and put the paper under it. The parrot stepped firmly in the right place and left a good print of his claw, though he did put the point of one toe through the paper.

Titty wrote beside it, “Polly: his Mark.”

“Ready about,” cried Susan, and John and Titty ducked their heads as the boom came over, and Swallow slipped round and off on the other tack, hesitating for hardly a moment and then butting cheerfully through the waves.