Читать книгу Swallows & Amazons (ALL 12 Adventure Novels) - Arthur Ransome - Страница 17

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In the morning John was the first to wake. It was already late. The sun was high overhead. The first days had gone by on which the beginning of the morning light had been enough to waken the explorers. They had grown used to sleeping in a tent. Besides, yesterday, so much had happened. John woke not very happy. Yesterday seemed unreal and wasted. Those pirates, the gun in Houseboat Bay, the chase up the lake to Rio were a sort of dream. He woke in ordinary life. Well, he thought, one could hardly expect that sort of thing to last, and it was almost a pity it had begun. After all, even if there were no pirates, the island was real enough and so was Swallow. He could do without the pirates. It was time to fetch the milk.

He looked at the lump of blanket on the other side of the tent and decided to let it sleep. He crawled out of his own blankets, put his sandshoes on, picked up the bundle of his clothes and a towel, and slipped out into the lonely sunlight. Taking the milk-can with him he ran down to the landing-place. He splashed out into the water and swam hard for a minute or two. This was better than washing. Then he floated in the sunshine with only his nose and mouth above water. Seagulls were picking minnows from the surface not far away. Perhaps one of them would swoop down on him by mistake. Could it tow him by flying while he clung to its black hanging legs? But the seagulls kept well away from him, and he turned on his side again and swam back to the landing-place. Then he ran through the trees to the harbour, put his clothes and the towel and the milk-can into Swallow, and pushed off.

He rowed hard for the beach by the oak tree below Dixon’s Farm. The sunshine and the warm southerly wind had almost dried him before he reached it. He gave a dry polish with the towel to the bits of him that seemed damp, put his clothes on, and hurried up the field.

“You’re not so early this morning,” said Mrs. Dixon, the farmer’s wife.

“No,” said John.

“What would you say to a bit of toffee?” said Mrs. Dixon. “I’d nothing to do last night so I fettled you up a baking. Four of you, aren’t there?”

“Thank you very much,” said John.

She gave him a big bag of brown toffee when she brought back the milk-can after filling it with milk.

“Have you had breakfast?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

“And you’ve been bathing already. I can see by your hair. You’d better put something into you. Stop a minute while I get you a bit of cake.”

After swimming, a bit of cake is very welcome, and John saw no harm in eating it. But while he was eating it, Mrs. Dixon said: “Mr. Turner of the houseboat has been asking about you. You haven’t been meddling with his houseboat, have you?”

“No,” said John.

“Well, he seems to think you have,” said Mrs. Dixon. “You’d better leave Mr. Turner and his parrot alone.”

Yesterday suddenly became real once more. John remembered how he had thought he had seen the retired pirate on the houseboat shaking his fist at them. In a moment he was Captain John, responsible for his ship and his crew, and Mrs. Dixon, the farmer’s wife, was a native, not wholly to be trusted in spite of her toffee and cake.

He set out at once on his way back, thinking that he ought to have wakened the mate before coming to fetch the milk.

But he could see the island from the field below the farm, and smoke was already rising from among the trees. The mate was up and about, the fire was lit, everything was right, and the kettle would be boiling before he got back with the milk.

He hurried down to the shore. Able-seaman Titty and the Boy Roger were splashing about by the island. He saw the two white figures splash up out of the water, kicking it in fountains before them. They were still drying themselves when he brought the Swallow to the landing-place. They helped to pull her up.

“I’ve got some toffee from the natives as well as the milk,” said Captain John.

“Real toffee?” said Roger.

“Molasses,” said Titty. “Toffee is only the native name for it.”

“And I have grave news,” said Captain John. “Something has happened. I shall call a council as soon as we have had breakfast.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” said the able-seaman, and poked the boy, who said, “Aye, aye, sir,” too.

The able-seaman and the boy ran up to the camp with the milk-can and the molasses. The captain followed them, thinking, with his hands in his pockets.

“Breakfast ready, sir,” called the mate cheerfully.

“Thank you, Mister Mate,” said John.

“Here’s the milk,” said Roger.

“And a whole bag of molasses,” said Titty. “Do you know how to make rum punch? That’s made out of molasses, isn’t it?”

“I expect so,” said the mate. “I’ve never tried.”

Tea was ready. Eggs were boiling in the saucepan, and the mate was timing their boiling by the chronometer.

“Three minutes,” she said, “and they’d been in a little before I began to count. They’re done all right now.” She fished the eggs out one by one with a spoon. For some minutes eggs and bread and butter and tea put a stop to talking. After that there was bread and marmalade. After that the mate served out a ration of molasses all round. “Molasses are very good anyhow,” she said. “We’ll make rum punch if there are any molasses we don’t want.”

At last breakfast was over and Captain John spoke.

“Mister Mate,” he said, “I call a council.”

They were all sitting round the fire, which was now burning low. The saucepan full of water was standing among the embers, keeping hot for washing up the stickier things.

Mate Susan sat up and looked about her.

“The whole ship’s company is here, sir,” she said.

“We have an enemy,” said Captain John.

“Who is it?” said Able-seaman Titty eagerly.

“It’s the pirates in the Amazon,” said Roger.

“Shut up,” said the mate.

“You know the man on the houseboat,” said Captain John.

“Yes,” said the mate.

“He has been telling the natives that we have been meddling with his houseboat.”

“But we’ve never touched it.”

“I know we haven’t, but he has been telling them that we have. He is trying to set the natives against us. I don’t know why he hates us, but he does.”

“Then he was shaking his fist at us yesterday,” said the mate.

“I knew he was a retired pirate,” said Titty. “He has a secret. They all have. Either it’s dark deeds or else it’s treasure. Look at the way he fired at the pirate ship. He must have thought they were after his hoard.”

“Yes, but why is he against us?” said John.

“Perhaps this is his island,” said Titty. “You know someone had been here before us and made a fireplace.”

“But if it was his island he would live on it instead of living in the houseboat.”

“It would be much more comfortable for the parrot,” said Titty.

“Anyway, it looks as if he wanted to get us turned off the island.”

“We won’t go,” said Roger.

“Of course we won’t,” said Captain John; “but the question is, just what ought we to do?”

“Let’s go and sink the houseboat,” said Roger and Titty together.

At that moment something hit the saucepan with a loud ping, and ashes flew up out of the fire. A long arrow with a green feather stuck, quivering, among the embers.

The four explorers started to their feet.

“It’s begun,” said Titty.

Roger grabbed at the arrow and pulled it out of the fire.

Titty took it from him at once. “It may be poisoned,” she said. “Don’t touch the point of it.”

“Listen,” said Captain John.

They listened. There was not a sound to be heard but the quiet lapping of the water against the western shore of the island.

“It’s him,” said Titty. “He’s winged his arrow with a feather from his green parrot.”

“Listen,” said Captain John again.

“Shut up, just for a minute,” said Mate Susan.

UNSEEN ENEMY

There was the sharp crack of a dead stick breaking somewhere in the middle of the island.

“We must scout,” said Captain John. “I’ll take one end of the line, the mate the other. Titty and Roger go in the middle. Spread out. As soon as one of us sees him, the others close in to help.”

They spread out across the island, and began to move forward. But they had not gone ten yards when John gave a shout.

“Swallow has gone,” he shouted. He was on the left of the line, and as soon as he came out of the camping ground he saw the landing-place where he had left Swallow when he came back with the milk. No Swallow was there. The others ran together to the landing-place. There was not a sign of Swallow. She had simply disappeared.

“Spread out again. Spread out again,” said John. “We’ll comb the whole island. Keep a look-out, Mister Mate, from your shore. She can’t have drifted away. He’s taken her, but he’s still on the island. We heard him.”

“Roger and I pulled her right up,” said Titty. “She couldn’t have drifted off.”

“Spread out again,” said Captain John. “Then listen. Advance as soon as the mate blows her whistle. A hoot like an owl means all right. Three hoots means something’s up. Blow as soon as you’re ready, Mister Mate.”

The mate crossed the island nearly to the western shore. She looked out through the trees. Not a sail was to be seen on the lake. Far away there was the smoke of the morning steamer, but that did not count. Roger and Titty, half a dozen yards apart, were in the middle of the island. Captain John moved a little way inland, but not so far that anyone could be between him and the shore without being seen. They listened. There was not a sound.

Then, over on the western side of the island, the mate blew her whistle.

The four began moving again through the trees and the undergrowth.

“Roger,” called Titty, “have you got a weapon?”

“No,” said Roger. “Have you?”

“I’ve got two sticks, pikes, I mean. You’d better have one.”

She threw one of her sticks to Roger.

An owl hooted away to her left.

“That must be the captain,” she said. She hooted back. Susan away on the right hooted in reply. Again they all listened. Then they moved forward again.

“Hullo,” cried Roger, “some one’s been here.”

Titty ran to him. There was a round place where the grass and ferns were pressed flat as if some one had been lying there.

“He’s left his knife,” said Roger, holding up a big clasp knife that he had found in the grass.

Titty hooted like an owl three times.

The captain and the mate came running.

“He must be quite close to,” said Titty.

“We’ve got his knife, anyway,” said Roger.

Captain John bent down and felt the flattened grass with his hand.

“It’s not warm,” he said.

“Well, it wouldn’t stay warm very long,” said the mate.

“Spread out again and go on,” said Captain John. “We mustn’t let him get away with Swallow. He can’t be far away, because we heard him. If he had taken Swallow to sea we should have seen her. He must have her here, somewhere, close along the shore.”

At that moment there was a wild yell, “Hurrah, Hurrah.” But the yelling did not come from in front of them. It came from behind them, from the direction of the camp.

“Come on,” said Captain John, “keep together. Charge!”

The whole party rushed back through the trees towards the camp.

Just as they came to the edge of the clearing there was a shout, but they could see no one.

“Hands up! Halt!”

The voice came from immediately in front of them.

“Hands up!” it came again.

“Flat on your faces,” cried Captain John, throwing himself on the ground.

Susan, Titty, and Roger were full length on the ground in a moment. An arrow passed harmlessly over their heads.

They looked at their own camp, and did not at first see what Captain John had seen. In the middle of the camp a tall stick was stuck in the ground with a black pirate flag blowing from the top of it. But there seemed to be nobody there. Then, inside their own tents, they saw two figures, kneeling, one with a bow ready to shoot, the other fitting an arrow.