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And then came the natives.

The first to arrive was Mrs. Dixon. Just as the fire was beginning to burn the shipwrecked sailors saw her coming down the field from the farm above Shark Bay, with a milk-can in one hand and a big bucket in the other. And there was Mr. Dixon coming too, with a pair of oars over his shoulder. Mr. Dixon baled their boat and pushed it out and rowed Mrs. Dixon across to the island, splashing as he rowed. Though the wind had gone down there were still waves on the lake, even between the island and the shore.

“Whatever can they want?” said Nancy.

Peggy and Titty had gone up to the look-out point to look at the lake. They came running back into the camp.

“Captain Flint’s coming,” shouted Peggy. “He’s nearly here, and there’s another rowing boat, and there’s a launch in the distance. I think it’s ours.”

“Mother’s in the other rowing boat, with a native,” said Titty.

“If it’s the launch, our mother’s in it, I bet you anything,” said Nancy.

“There are still quite big waves down the lake,” said Titty, “but mother’s got past them all right.”

Everybody ran down to the landing-place, and got there just as Mr. Dixon stepped out and pulled his boat up. Mrs. Dixon clambered out with her big bucket and the milk-can. She had a tray over the top of the bucket for a lid, and steam was coming from under it.

“No. It isn’t pigwash,” she said, “though you might think it. It’s porridge for drowned rats, which is what I reckoned you’d be. You’ve done well to get your fire lit at all. I could hardly rest for thinking of you in that storm. My word, how it did come down. And so you found Mr. Turner’s box that was stolen. And I thought it was you that took it. Dixon told me the news when he came from the village last night.”

The Swallows and Amazons looked at each other. Did everybody know everything?

“Porridge,” said Roger.

“Aye, porridge,” said Mrs. Dixon. “There’s no room in anybody for a cold if they’re full up with hot porridge, so I always say. Have you any spoons?”

“Lots.”

“I’ll just slop the milk into the bucket and give it a stir round. I put the sugar in up at the farm.”

In another minute the four Swallows and the two Amazons were spooning hot porridge and milk out of the bucket and feeling each mouthful go scalding down their throats.

“This really is eating out of the common dish,” said Titty.

Then came Captain Flint.

“Good for you, Mrs. Dixon,” were his first words. “I ought to have thought of that. Porridge was the very thing. One, two, three, four, five, six. That’s all right. Nobody washed away in the night.”

“Seven,” said Titty. “You’ve forgotten my parrot. He said ‘Pretty Polly’ at the lightning and ‘Pieces of eight’ when it thundered.”

“Seven,” said Captain Flint. “And two of the tents gone, I see. I was afraid they would. It was a wild go while it lasted. It was tough work bucketing into it even now, though the wind’s dropped and the lake’s nothing to what it was. It settles very quickly.”

Then came mother from Holly Howe, rowed by that powerful native, Mr. Jackson. She had brought three big thermos flasks full of boiling cocoa.

“Good morning, Mrs. Dixon,” she said. “That was very kind of you, to think of coming across. I was afraid they’d not be able to get their fire lit.”

“It’s a wonder they have,” said Mrs. Dixon.

“We haven’t been able to boil a kettle yet,” said Susan. “We couldn’t have lit it at all if Nancy hadn’t thought of keeping some sticks dry.”

“And you are the Amazons?” said mother, looking at Nancy and Peggy.

“Yes,” said Nancy, “and this is Captain Flint. His other name is Turner.”

“How do you do?” said mother, and Captain Flint said how sorry he was he had not made friends with the Swallows before. “You don’t know how much I owe to these children,” he said.

“Children!” snorted Nancy Blackett.

“Explorers and pirates,” Captain Flint corrected himself. “If it hadn’t been for them I should have lost all the work I’ve done this summer.”

“I heard something about it last night from Mrs. Jackson,” said mother. “I’m sure I’m very glad they’ve been of some use. Their father seems to think they are not duffers, but sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“Mother!” said John, and mother laughed.

“He’s given me a parrot,” said Able-seaman Titty, and mother had to go and look at it.

“He’s going to give me a monkey,” said Roger.

“What?” said mother.

Captain Flint explained, and mother said that it must be a very little one.

“It shall be, ma’am,” said Captain Flint.

Mother looked at the wrecked tents.

“They’re no good in a wind,” she said. “I remember once in the bush . . . I was in a tent like that and it ripped to ribbons and was blown clean away. . . . Well,” she said, “it’s a good thing you haven’t got to sleep in them to-night, and a pity you didn’t come home yesterday.”

“I can hardly think so, ma’am,” said Captain Flint.

“We wouldn’t have found the treasure if we had,” said Titty.

“The first thing to do is to put on some dry clothes,” said mother. “I’ve brought a dry change for each of you four.”

“Roger never got wet,” said Susan.

“That’s a good thing,” said mother, “but you did, and so did John, and Titty looks like a dishcloth. Run down to the boat and ask Mr. Jackson for that bundle.”

Then came the launch, chug, chugging in to the landing-place, and running its nose gently aground close by the three boats that were already there. The landing-place was so crowded that it was almost as bad as Rio Bay. Captain Flint ran down there to meet the launch, and Mrs. Blackett jumped ashore into her brother’s arms. She was a very little woman, not really much bigger than Nancy, and very like her. In the native talk that followed, her tongue went fastest. Captain Flint and Mrs. Walker just put in a word sometimes.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Mrs. Blackett said to Captain Flint. “Now then, Ruth . . .”

“Nancy, when she’s a pirate, my dear,” said Captain Flint. “Give her her right name.”

“Nancy then, and Peggy, skip into the launch, you harum-scarums, and get into dry things. You’ll find them in the cabin. How do you do, Mrs. Walker? You’ve met my brother, I see. And my wild young ones. And so these are the Swallows who turned out to be so much better than somebody thought they were.”

She too had heard the news, even though she lived at the other side of the lake from Rio.

“Well,” said Mrs. Dixon, “I think I’ll be going now, if you’ve done with that bucket. I’ve the chickens to feed, and Dixon’ll be wanting to get to his sheep.”

Both the mothers and Captain Flint and all the Swallows and Amazons thanked her for bringing such a good breakfast.

“Aye, there’s nothing like porridge,” said Mrs. Dixon. “Well, I suppose I shan’t be seeing any of you in the morning. I shall quite miss it. I’ve come to be in the way of looking for you. But perhaps you’ll be coming again next year.”

“Every year. For ever and ever,” said Titty.

“Aye,” said Mrs. Dixon, “we all think that when we’re young.”

Mr. Dixon, who was waiting down by the boat, had said “Good morning,” when he came, and now he said “Good day to you,” as he rowed Mrs. Dixon away. He was always a very silent native.

The others were not. They talked and talked, all native talk, about the storm and the burglary. Sometimes they asked questions which the Amazons found a little difficult to answer, though Captain Flint helped them out. Even Mr. Jackson, the powerful strong native from Holly Howe, wanted to know exactly how the Swallows had found the box.

At last the native talk began to slacken.

“What about packing up?” said Mrs. Blackett to the Amazons. “You can put everything in the launch, and come in it with me, and we can tow the Amazon.”

“Tow Amazon!” said Nancy in horror. “We’re coming home under sail. We want no salvage.”

“Everything’s so wet here,” said the mother of the Swallows. “You’d better come back with me to Holly Howe.”

“Not now,” begged Titty. “We’re quite dry, and we’ve got a whole tin of pemmican left, and lots of bunloaf, and it’s our last day.”

It would have been very dreadful to be swept home in a flood of natives, even of the nicest sort. Half the pleasure of visiting distant countries is sailing home afterwards. Besides, she had to say good-bye to the island. John, Susan, and Roger also begged to be allowed to stay. Nancy and Peggy flatly refused to go.

“What if it comes on to blow again?” said the Swallows’ mother.

Here Captain Flint spoke.

“It’s not going to do that,” he said. “It was just the first of our autumn thunderstorms. It’s blown itself out now, and I shouldn’t be surprised if there’s a dead calm before evening. It may rain again to-morrow, but I’ll almost guarantee good weather for to-day.”

And so it was agreed. Everything not wanted for the day was to be packed into Mr. Jackson’s boat if it was to go to Holly Howe, and into the launch if it belonged to the Amazons. The launch would tow Mr. Jackson and his boat as far as the Holly Howe Bay, so that the two mothers could be together in the cabin. “We have a lot more to say to each other,” said Mrs. Blackett.

“About coming next year?” said Peggy and Titty together.

“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.

“Doesn’t Amazon look fine?” said Susan, looking at the little white-sailed boat ahead of them, with her fluttering black and white flag and her two red-capped sailors.

“Swallow must look just as fine,” said Captain John.

“Finer,” said Titty. “We’ve got a brown sail.”

They sailed on, tacking from one side of the lake to the other and back again, till they were within a mile of the steamer pier at the foot of the lake.

Here they were passed by one of the big lake steamers, crowded with passengers, who came to the side and pointed. The captain, who was steering her, took out his binoculars, and looked through them at the little Swallow. By now the news had run all over Rio, and up and down the lake, about the way in which the Swallows had found the box that had been stolen from Mr. Turner’s houseboat.

Suddenly a loud cheer sounded over the water, and again and again. The passengers waved their hats, and shouted.

“What is the matter with the natives in the steamer?” said Roger.

Then one of the sailors ran aft to the flagstaff at the steamer’s stern, and the big red ensign dropped to half-mast, and then rose again.

“They’re cheering at us,” said Captain John, turning very red. “How horrible.”

“They’ve saluted,” said Susan. “Oughtn’t we to answer? The Amazons are.”

They could see Peggy at the halyards, busy dipping the Jolly Roger.

Titty shut the parrot in his cage, and lowered Swallow’s flag, and raised it again.

“It’s a good thing we’re going away,” said Captain John. “They’ll have forgotten by next year.”

The big steamer hurried on. The Amazon headed into a little bay on the western shore of the lake. The Swallow followed her. There were woods all round the little bay, and a small stream ran into it. The Swallows and Amazons landed close by the mouth of the stream.

“What a splendid cove,” said Captain John.

“It’s one of our most private haunts,” said Captain Nancy. “Altogether free from natives. The road’s miles away on the other side of the woods. No one ever comes here except us, and no one can see we’re here, even from the water, unless they happen to look right in.”

They made their fire and boiled their kettle by the side of the little beck, noisy after the night’s rain. The jetsam on the shore was very wet, but in the wood they found a few dry sticks here and there. They started the fire with a handful of dry moss. It was not easy to get it going, but, once it was well lit, the fire burned well enough to boil the kettle. Here, away from the island, they spent their last day, until Captain Nancy noticed that the lake was nearly calm.

“It’s going to take us a long time to sail home,” she said. “What orders, Commodore?”

John started. He had been thinking of something else.

“The fleet sets sail and steers north,” he said.

Very slowly the two little ships moved out of the bay into the open lake. There was very little wind, though now and again a catspaw hurrying from the south helped them on their way and darkened the smooth small waves.

“You’d never think it could have blown like it did in the night,” said Roger.

They sailed up the lake with the booms well out. Up in the woods on the high hillside smoke was rising. They could hear the noise of the charcoal-burners’ axes in the now quiet air.

“They’ll still be here when we’re gone,” said Titty.

“Who?” said Susan.

“The savages,” said Titty.

The wind was dropping. The boom swung aft, and the main-sheet now and then caught the water and trailed in it.

“Sit on the lee side, Able-seaman,” said John. “That’ll keep the boom out.”

Nancy in Amazon was sitting on the lee side for the same reason.

“Hadn’t we better row?” said Roger.

“You want a motor boat,” said Captain John.

“No I don’t,” said Roger. “Sail is the thing.”

Slowly the fleet slipped past Wild Cat Island. The island was once more the uninhabited island that Titty had watched for so many days from the Peak of Darien. And yet, it was not that island. John, looking at it, remembered the harbour and the leading lights and his swim all round it, and the climbing of the great tree. For Roger it would always be the place where he had swum for the first time. For Susan it was the camp and housekeeping and cooking for a large family. Titty thought of it as Robinson Crusoe’s island. It was her island more than anyone’s because she had been alone on it. She remembered the path she had cleared, and waking in the dark, and hearing the owl. She remembered the dipper. She remembered getting Amazon out of the harbour. She looked suddenly across the lake to Cormorant Island, and then at Amazon slipping silently through the water a cable’s length away. Had she ever really been anchored in Amazon out there in the dark?

FAREWELL!

As they passed Houseboat Bay, Captain Flint rowed out to them to say good-bye once more.

“Good-bye,” they shouted.

“Till next year,” he shouted back, and rested on his oars and watched the fleet as it sailed slowly on towards the Peak of Darien.

Under the Peak of Darien the fleet broke up.

There were more shouts of “Good-bye,” “Remember the Alliance,” and “Come again next year.” “Three cheers for Wild Cat Island,” shouted John. They all cheered. “Three cheers for the Swallows,” shouted Nancy. “And for the Amazons,” they shouted back. John hauled his wind and stood in for the Holly Howe boathouse. Amazon held on her course. She was soon out of sight beyond the further point of the bay.

“I wish it wasn’t over,” said Roger.

“No more pemmican, anyway,” said Susan.

“What about singing ‘Salt Beef’?” said Titty. So they sang:

“Salt beef, salt beef, is our relief,

Salt beef and biscuit bread O!

Salt beef, salt beef, is our relief,

Salt beef and biscuit bread O!

While you on shore and a great many more

On dainty dishes fed O!

Don’t forget your old shipmate,

Fol-de-rol-de-riddle, Fol-de-ri-do!”

“Susan is the old shipmate,” said Roger.

“We all are,” said John.

“What’s the song they sing at the end of the voyage?” said Susan.

Titty began, and the others joined in at once, for they all knew it:

“Oh, soon we’ll hear the Old Man say,

Leave her, Johnny, leave her.

You can go ashore and take your pay,

It’s time for us to leave her.

Leave her, Johnny, leave her like a man,

Leave her, Johnny, leave her.

Oh leave her, Johnny, leave her when you can,

It’s time for us to leave her.”

“Who was Johnny?” said Roger. “Hullo, there’s mother and Vicky coming down the field.”