Читать книгу Missee Lee - Arthur Ransome - Страница 5

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“I’m opening the grub-box,” said Susan.

“Good,” said Roger.

“Right,” said John.

Looking across to the Amazon, they could see, as she lifted and fell, that Nancy and Peggy were busy in the stern, while Captain Flint, paddling gently, like John in Swallow, was keeping her head to wind.

“Digging out their grub too,” said Roger. “I say, Susan. We’ve got plenty of biscuits, anyway. Are those ‘Thin Captains’?”

“Yes,” said Susan. “Two tins of them.... Four of condensed milk.... One tin of butter.... Eight tins of pemmican. ... And a lot of dates. Chocolate....”

“Amazon, ahoy!” shouted Roger.

“Swallow, ahoy!”

“What’s your cook got in her box? ‘Thin Captains,’ we’ve got, and butter, lots of pemmican, dates, chocolate....”

“Sardines,” said Susan.

“Sardines,” shouted Roger.

“We’ve got just the same,” called Peggy.

“Hullo, Roger,” called Nancy. “Captain Flint says we may have to make things spin out. So you’re not to start hogging everything just to see what it’s like.”

“As if I wanted to,” said Roger. “I only wanted to make sure we’d all got plenty of everything.”

“Half a mug of water’s the ration to-night,” Captain Flint called out.

“Aye-aye, sir,” called Susan.

“When do you think we’ll get home now?” asked Titty.

“If we get picked up by a liner going the right way,” said John, “we’ll be home much sooner than if we were sailing in the Wild Cat.”

“We don’t want to do that,” said Roger.

“When do you think there’ll be a steamer?” said Titty. “We ought to let Mother know we’re all right....”

“Four biscuits each,” said Susan.... “Two sardines ... eight dates ... and half a mug of water. We’ll take turns with the mug. And we’d better put off drinking till we really want it.”

Dark in the tropics comes down like the fall of a curtain. There was already much more wind.

“Putting our sea-anchor over now,” shouted Captain Flint. “There’s enough wind to keep us clear of it.... You’d better do the same.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

John dropped his sea-anchor over the bows and paid out its long warp. It was a conical bag of canvas with a hole at the pointed end. A bag of that shape, pulled wide end first through the water, keeps a boat from drifting too fast. Paid out over Swallow’s bows, it kept her head to wind. There was no need now to use the oars. John stowed them, wrapped the rope in a towel where it crossed the gunwale (Susan had to agree that it was better to use a towel than a sleeping bag) and settled down with the others to their first shipwrecked supper.

A light flickered over the waves.

“They’ve lit their lantern,” said John.

“Ours is all ready,” said Susan, lighting it as she spoke.

“It’s blowing a lot harder,” said John half an hour later.

“Ahoy, there! How’s your anchor warp streaming?”

John peered over the bows and pulled at the warp while Susan held up the lantern behind him.

“Straight ahead and pulling hard. I can’t get it in an inch.”

“That’s all right. How’s the barometer?”

There was a pause.

“Gone down another two-tenths, sir. But it jerked up a bit when I tapped it.”

“That means whatever’s coming won’t last long. But it may be tough while it’s with us. Better get some sleep if you can.”

“I’ll keep watch,” said Susan.

“No need,” said John.

“We don’t want to sleep,” said Roger.

“Good night.... GOOD NIGHT.” A shout came through the darkness.

“Listen. They’re going to sleep in Amazon.”

“GOOD NIGHT!” the Swallows shouted back.

“Let’s have that lantern, Susan,” said John. “They must have fixed theirs on the middle thwart in case of splashes. I’ll do the same. Bother the mast and sail....”

“They won’t matter when we’re down on the bottom-boards,” said Susan. “All right, Roger. Gibber’ll go in his sleeping-bag. You push him in. Lie right down, Titty....”

“It’s Polly’s cage in the way,” said Titty.

“Put it bang in the middle,” said John. “Susan and I’ll manage all right.”

“Go to sleep.”

And, after what they had gone through that day, go to sleep they did, Roger and Gibber, Titty and Polly, Susan and, at last, John himself, who had made up his mind to stay awake to watch that flickering lantern in the other boat.

John was waked by a splash of warm water on his face and the taste of brine in his mouth. For one second he was puzzled. Then he felt for the hurricane lantern, which had been blown or shaken out. He looked round in the darkness to find Amazon’s lantern, but could see nothing at all. There was a fierce wind in his face when he lifted his head above the gunwale. There was a sea running too. Swallow was pitching and tossing as each wave lifted her up, passed under her and dropped her. There was another splash. She could not be heading as straight to windward as she had been. John reached forward and felt the warp over the bows. Yes, it was still there, wrapped in the towel. He reached further forward, took a grip of the rope and pulled, never thinking for a moment that he would not find it bar-taut. He gave it a hard tug and felt it yield to him. Yet the wind was much stronger than it had been. He pulled again and found that inch by inch he was able to haul in. Better have a look at that sea-anchor. Presently the rope began to come in more and more easily and then, as if to warn John that he was doing wrong, a wave hit Swallow broadside on, splashed over the gunwale, woke everybody and set the parrot screaming in the dark.

“John!” called Roger.

“What’s happening?” said Susan.

“My fault,” said John. “The sea-anchor’s gone. There’s only the rope holding her to windward, and I’ve been hauling in without thinking. I’m letting it out again. She’ll be all right in a minute. The rope must have gone at the sea-anchor. This end’s all right.”

He paid out the rope he had hauled in. There was enough pull on it to keep Swallow heading up to windward and there were no more serious splashes.

“She’s probably moving,” said John. “She may be moving pretty fast. The rope by itself’ll stop her a bit but not much.”

“Is it all right?” asked Roger.

“All right as long as people keep still.”

“Polly must have got wet,” said Titty.

“Where’s Amazon?” said Susan.

“Lantern gone out like ours,” said John. “And with that anchor going we aren’t anywhere near her.”

“Can’t we row back?”

“Couldn’t row against this,” said John. “And we might miss them if we could.” John was shouting to make himself heard. “Look for them when it’s light. It won’t blow like this for long, We’ll be all right if we keep down in the boat.... Down in the boat.... Captain Flint SAID SO.”

“There’s a lot of water in her,” said Titty.

“WHAT?”

“SHE WANTS BALING.”

“BALE BUT DON’T GET UP. BETTER WET THAN DROWNED.” That was what Daddy would have said, and John, having said it, felt better himself. It was almost like having Daddy in the boat.

“Warm water, anyhow,” said Susan.

John thought hard. Was there a single other thing he could do? There was not. He thought for a moment of putting the sail and spars overboard and lying to them at the end of a rope. He decided against that. If the rope broke again, the sail would be lost, and they might come to need it badly. If only he had had any idea how fast they were moving and how long it was since the sea-anchor went. Titty and Roger could bale a bit to keep them quiet. He would start baling himself if much more water came in. Gosh! What about Amazon with her leaky centreboard case? They would be doing some baling there. Saying nothing to the others, he kept on looking round for the glimmer of her lantern, though he was pretty certain now that she was many miles away. He tried to light the lantern, but it blew out again at once. He gave it up and flashed his torch on the barometer. It was going up. That was something. He flashed his torch on his compass. They were heading south-east. That meant, as they were driving stern first, that they were going north-west. But of course there might be a current of some sort.

“Which way are we going?” shouted Titty. “She isn’t very wet now. Only a little slosh about my ankles.”

“North-west,” said John. “China. We’ll hit the coast somewhere if we go far enough.”

“Missee Lee,” said Titty. “Pirates.”

“So long as we get ashore,” said Susan, “we’ll be all right. But what’ll the others do if they don’t know where we are?”

“They’ll get picked up by a liner,” said John. “And then they’ll come and look for us. Captain Flint’ll guess what’s happened.”

“But if he doesn’t?” said Roger.

“Ration of chocolate,” said Susan hurriedly.

That night seemed to last for ever. Hour after hour they drove on in the dark, stem first, the little Swallow lurching up over each sea and diving down into the following trough. Susan and John between them used up half a box of matches trying to relight the lantern and then gave up. From time to time John flashed his torch on the compass and saw that they were still being driven towards the coast. The rope trailing from the bows kept them head to the wind more or less, but splashes came aboard from time to time. The strong wind blew the words from their mouths, so that they could only make themselves heard by shouting into each other’s ears. But they soon gave up even trying to talk. Titty did her best to shield the parrot. The whimpering Gibber, bundled into his sleeping-bag, lay in Roger’s arms. Hour after hour they huddled in the bottom of the boat, bumping against each other as she lurched, bumping so often that the bumps did not even keep them awake. Tired out, they dozed, waked, baled and dozed again in the darkness and the wind.

The wind dropped suddenly, so suddenly that it was like coming indoors out of a gale. The sea eased. For the first time for hours they felt that they could move without the fear of being flung out next moment into raging water.

“Is it over?” said Titty.

“Pieces of eight!” screamed the parrot.

“Has he been talking for a long time?” asked Roger.

“We wouldn’t have heard him before,” said Susan. “You didn’t hear me when I was fairly shouting at you.”

“Shut up a minute,” said John. “Listen!”

“What is it?”

“Listen! ... Breakers.... Over there.... I thought I heard them before....”

They listened. Yes, there could be no mistaking the dim, swaying roar of waves breaking on the shore.

“Land,” said John. “Quite near.”

“I wish we knew where we were,” said Susan.

“We knew last night,” said John. “We were right in the steamer track. But of course that storm upset everything. That’s why he wanted the sea-anchors out, partly, so that we’d stay where we were and keep together. But with ours going, of course, we’ve been moving all the time.”

“I bet theirs went too,” said Roger.

“They may be quite near,” said Titty.

“They’d have shouted,” said Susan.

“We wouldn’t have heard them in that wind,” said John.

“Let’s try now,” said Titty.

They hailed, all together. “Ahoy! ... Ahoy ... oy ... oy!”

There was no answer.

“Pieces of eight!” shouted the parrot.

“Funny, Polly shouting in the dark,” said Titty.

“It isn’t dark,” said Roger. “Look over there.”

“Dawn coming,” said John.

“John,” said Susan suddenly. “I smell cinnamon.”

“I smell all sorts of smells,” said Roger.

“I believe we’re quite close in,” said John. “Lucky the wind dropped when it did.”

They turned from looking at the faint light in the eastern sky.

“There’s something showing,” said Roger.

“Hills,” said Susan.

“China,” said Titty.

“If only we were all together,” said Susan, and then ... “We’d better have something to eat while we can....”

Dawn in the tropics comes up as fast as dusk comes down. While they were eating rations of dates and chocolates it flared up out of the east. They stared at the shore and at each other, strangers all after that night of storm. They saw a coast-line of brown hills that, as they watched, turned to rose-grey above a belt of green forest. John, cramming the last of his chocolate into his mouth, turned to the bows and presently, hand over hand, quite easily now that there was no pull on it, was hauling in the rope from the sea-anchor.

“Hullo,” he cried as he came to the end of it. “It wasn’t my fault after all. It was the anchor itself that bust, not the rope.” He held up the remains of the sea-anchor, a wooden ring with rags of grey canvas hanging from it. “Canvas rotten. Or perhaps some sparks burnt a hole and started it fraying. Well, if ours went, very likely theirs went too.” He looked out hopefully again over the sea. There was not a thing in sight. He made up his mind.

“Look out, John,” said Susan.

“Sorry,” said John, who was tugging to get the oars clear of the mast and sail. “I’m going to row in.”

Where the land was nearest to them there was a patch of green forest with a great cliff behind it rising high into the sky. To the left the land was much lower. To the right the trees seemed to be growing out of the sea. The hill behind them, not so tall as the cliff, had the shape of a great cat with its head resting on its paws. John got out the oars, put the rowlocks in their places, pulled the boat round and, glancing over his shoulder, began to row.

“Where are we going to land?” asked Roger.

“Those trees under the cliff,” said John. “Nearest place.”

FIRST SIGHT OF CHINA

“Couldn’t we sail?” said Titty.

“Not enough wind,” said John. “Rowing’s better, and with the sunrise behind us, we’ve got a good chance of getting ashore without being seen.”

“But don’t we want to be seen?” said Roger.

“Let’s have a look at the people first,” said John. “If they look beastly we can sheer off.”

“They wouldn’t do anything to shipwrecked sailors,” said Titty.

“I do wish the others were in sight,” said Susan.

John rowed on, stopping only for a moment at a shout from Roger. “There’s a road going up that cliff.... Let’s have the telescope.”

They all searched the dark face of the cliff and saw what Roger had seen, a scratch sideways and slantways across the rock, another scratch above it, and yet another, a track, or at least a path. And a path meant people.

“Captain Flint did say we’d be picked up if we stayed where we were,” said Roger.

Susan looked doubtfully out to sea, rolling green water stretching to the sunrise.

“We can’t get back there,” said John. “We’ll try here, and if people are beastly we’ll just have to dodge along the coast.”

“I can’t see any people anywhere,” said Titty, who had been having a turn with the telescope, though it was hard to keep it steady as the little Swallow rose and fell.

“All the better,” said John, and settled again to his rowing.

Nearer and nearer they came towards the cliff.

“There’s a bit sticking out to meet us,” said Roger. “That bit with the trees.”

“That’s what I’m going for,” said John. “Got to find a place where we can land without smashing her up.”

“Pull left,” said Susan a few minutes later. “I say, John, it’s a promontory.... There’s quieter water behind it.”

John pulled his left. Palm trees, other trees the names of which they did not know, were close to them, and below the trees were dark rocks and stony beaches on which the swell from the sea crashed in thunder and white spray. He must keep clear of that. He rowed on, keeping his distance from the shore, and then, coming to the end of the trees, began to turn in towards the cliff. Suddenly they were in smoother water.

“Gosh!” exclaimed Roger. “It’s not a cape. It’s an island.”

They could see now that there was a wide channel of smooth water between the trees and the cliff.

“Good,” said John. “There’s our place.... Keep a look-out for rocks under water.” He pulled suddenly with his starboard oar, and headed in for a little beach.

“Let me get in the bows,” said Roger.

John waited a moment while Roger scrambled into his usual place. Then he rowed on. Susan was watching the water on one side, Titty on the other.

“Pull right,” shouted Roger, and as John did so, Titty saw a black knob of rock slip by in the green depths.

“Pull left,” shouted Susan, and John dodged another.

“Look here,” said John. “If she bumps we must all be ready to hop overboard and take her up. Whatever happens we mustn’t get her stove in.”

But only a moment later there was a gentle scrunch and Roger was ashore. Gibber, whom Roger had let out of his bag, climbed over everything and everybody and was ashore a moment after Roger. John stepped out into a foot of water.

“Pretty near high-water mark,” he said. “But we’ll get her up as far as we can.”

All four, heaving together, pulled Swallow her own length up the beach. John laid out her anchor among the roots of the trees.

“China,” said Titty.

John looked carefully round. “Even from the top of the cliff nobody can see her in here,” he said.