Swallows and Amazons. Arthur Ransome

two or three times a day, calling on the way at the little town a mile higher up the lake than Holly Howe, and at one or two landing stages. The little town is known in guide-books by another name, but the crew of the Swallow had long ago given it the name of Rio Grande. After calling at Rio, the steamers ran directly to the foot of the lake, stopping only sometimes to put a passenger ashore at a jetty or to pick one up if he was signaling that he wanted to come aboard. The steamer track ran close by the island, but at this point was nearer the further shore. The steamship quickly overhauled them and passed them. Her wake, spreading across the lake, rocked the little Swallow so that kettle and saucepan and frying-pan rattled on the bottom boards and Able-seaman Titty had to hold tight to the crockery basket. Soon the steamer was no more than a blob with a feather of white smoke far away beyond the island.

      Then there was a roar in the distance, getting rapidly louder. A splash of white showed beyond the island near the steamer. The splash seemed to slide over the water nearer and nearer. It was a fast motor boat, much faster than the steamship and hundreds of times as loud. It roared up the lake, passed the Swallow a hundred yards away, and had soon disappeared astern of her beyond Darien. Here and there, close to the shore, there were rowing boats with fishermen. But after all there was no need to notice any of these things if one did not want to, and the Swallow and her crew moved steadily southward over a desolate ocean sailed for the first time by white seamen.

      They were getting near the island.

      “Keep a look-out for a good landing-place,” said Captain John.

      “And keep a look-out for savages,” said Titty. “We don’t know yet that it is uninhabited, and you can’t be too careful.”

      “I’ll sail between the island and this shore and then beat up again on the other side, so that we can choose the best place,” said Captain John.

      The island was covered with trees and among them there was one tall pine which stood out high above the oaks, hazels, beeches, and rowans. They had often looked at it through the telescope from Darien. The tall pine was near the north end of the island. Below it was a little cliff, dropping to the water. Rocks showed a few yards out from the shore. There was no place to land there.

      “Now, Mister Mate,” said Captain John, “we must keep a good look-out.”

      “Sing out like anything if you see any rocks under water, Roger,” said the mate.

      John steered to pass between the island and the mainland, not too near the island so as not to lose the wind. In a moment or two Swallow was slipping through smooth water, though there was still enough wind to keep her slowly moving. A little more than a third of the way along the eastern shore of the island there was a bay, a very small one, with a pebbly beach. Behind it there seemed to be a clearer space among the trees.

      “What a place for a camp,” said Susan.

      “Good landing too,” said John, “but no good if the wind came from this side. We’ll sail right round the island first to see if there is anything better.”

      “Rocks ahead,” sang out Roger, pointing to some that were just showing above water. John steered a little further from the shore.

      The sides of the island were steep and rocky. That little bay seemed to be the only place where it would be possible to land a boat. There were rocky cliffs, like the Peak in Darien, only much smaller, with heather on them and little struggling trees. At the south end of the island the rocks grew smaller and then suddenly rose again into a promontory of almost bare stone. At this southern end the island seemed to have been broken up into a lot of little islands. John sailed on till he was well beyond the last of them and then began hauling in the sheet, putting the helm down and bringing Swallow round below the island.

      “That first place is the only good one on that side,” said Susan.

      “We’ll sail up this side in short tacks, to have a good look at it,” said Captain John. He hauled the sheet closer in and brought Swallow nearer to the wind. He sailed her so till she was about forty yards from the island, standing out on the starboard tack. Then:

      “Ready about.”

      Susan ducked her head. Titty, sitting on the bottom-boards, was low enough already, but she ducked too. Roger was well out of the way, before the mast.

      John put the helm down. Swallow shot up into the wind. The boom and the brown sail swung over and filled again on the other tack and Swallow, with the water rustling under her bows, sailed in towards the island’s western shore. Here there were no outlying rocks, but the island itself dropped steeply, like a wall, into the water.

      “Sing out when you see the bottom, Roger,” called Mate Susan.

      “Aye, aye, sir,” said Roger, looking as hard as he could into the green depths.

      “We ought to have brought a lead for sounding,” said Susan.

      “It wouldn’t have been much good here,” said John.

      They sailed on and on till they were within five yards of the shore and the water was still dark beneath them. John dared go no nearer.

      “Ready about,” he called.

      It was not until they were already swinging round, close under the wall of rock, that Roger shouted, “I can see the bottom.” On this side, it was clear, the island rose sharply up out of deep water.

      Down went Susan’s head and down went Titty’s, though she had no need. Round swung the little Swallow and off again on the other tack out into the lake. John did not take her far before it was “Ready about” once more and she slipped in again towards the island. Backwards and forwards they went, each time a little further north along the island’s shore.

      All this western shore was the same, a steep, rocky wall, dropping into deep water, with no bay in which it would be possible to land.

      “That place on the other side is the only one,” said Susan.

      “It’s not much of a harbour,” said Captain John, “but if it’s the only one it’ll have to do. We can haul the ship well up.”

      With the next tack John took the Swallow further out into the lake and went about for the last time when he was well clear of the northern end of the island. He sailed past it and as soon as he was clear of all its rocks he called:

      “Jibe O!”

      Mate Susan hauled in the sheet as fast as she could. John put the helm up. Swallow turned south once more, the boom swung over their heads, Susan paying out the sheet as soon as it had passed over, and they were once more sailing down the inside, eastern shore. Just before they were opposite the little bay with the pebbly beach, John called out:

      “Stand by to take in sail. Lower away!”

      Mate Susan was all ready with the halyard in her hand. She slackened the halyard without letting go of it. Down came the sail.

      “Grab the yard, Roger!” and Roger grabbed it.

      Susan unhooked the traveller and she and Roger together brought down the sail and the yard. Titty with the crockery basket was well out of the way under the folds of the sail. All this happened much quicker than I can tell it, and when the sail was down Swallow still had enough way on her to slide in towards the beach.

      “Look out, Roger,” said Mate Susan, and she too looked anxiously over the bows.

      “Rock on the starboard bow,” she shouted.

      John shifted the tiller a very little. The Swallow, in quite smooth water, slipped on and on.

      “Now,” said Susan, and scrambled to the stern again over the top of Titty, who had just pushed her head out from under the sail. Susan had gone to the stern to lighten the bows of the boat, and just as she got there, there was a gentle grumble and scrunch, and Swallow’s nose was on the pebbly beach. She had hardly touched before Roger had jumped ashore with the painter.