Swallowdale. Arthur Ransome

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СКАЧАТЬ as if they could hear Swallow move on the bottom of the lake.

      “Steady now,” said John. “I’m going down to have a look.”

      He was gone with a splash, but was up again in a moment or two.

      “Her head’s come round a lot,” he said. “It’s all right.”

      Again they pulled. The rope came in and they could feel Swallow lifting over the stones. With her ballast out she weighed very little more than water.

      “I can see her,” said John, almost under his breath, as if he were telling of a miracle.

      “We can’t do anything with her here,” said Nancy, “with the rocks dropping down so steep. We must get her round into the cove to beach her. Hi, Peggy! Peggy! We must get some of them on the rope, and we’ll go down into the water to fend her off.”

      Peggy came running.

      “You take the anchor,” said Nancy, “and crawl round the point. Don’t pull too hard.”

      “They’ve got her up,” yelled Peggy, at the top of her voice.

      “They’ve got her up,” echoed Roger shrilly, dropping the bit of driftwood he was carrying and setting off as hard as he could go for the point. Titty hurried after him, and Susan, after one more look, to see that none of the clothes were in danger of scorching, went after them.

      “Half a minute,” said Captain John, who was in the water again up to his neck, feeling round the bows of the Swallow. “I’ll cut the halyard, so that we can get away the mast and sail. Anybody got a knife?”

      As everybody was in bathing things, nobody had.

      “Get the ship’s knife, Peggy,” said Nancy. “Stir those stumps. I’ll hang on to the anchor while you’re getting it. It’s with our clothes in Amazon.”

      “No need,” shouted John, who was feeling about in the water. “I’ve got the yard unhooked from the traveller. It ought to come now. It’s stuck. Oh, bother it, I forgot the boom’s fastened down.” He struggled with the soaked ropes, but was glad at last that Peggy had brought the knife after all. A cut, a tug or two, and yard, sail and boom were free from the rest of the wreckage, while the broken mast, held only by the halyard (neither Swallow nor Amazon have shrouds) bobbed in the water like a tethered log. Nancy came down into the water to help. Susan and Titty slid down the rocks to meet them as they lugged ashore the brown sail, heavy with water and almost black, still fastened to its spars. They hauled it up.

      “Is it much torn?” asked John, who was now busy freeing the broken mast.

      “There’s one awful tear,” said Mate Susan, “and a little one that doesn’t matter. Nothing we can’t mend.”

      “Spread it on the rocks to dry.”

      The broken mast and the halyard came ashore next. The stump of the mast had somehow jammed and was still in Swallow, under water. But under water though she was, even those who were on the rocks could see that John and Nancy had their hands on her. It was no longer as if she were out of sight by the Pike Rock when, even if in no more than eight or nine feet of water, she had seemed forty fathoms deep and gone for ever. There was hope in all hearts and a more cheerful ring in every voice.

      “Tally on to the rope, you two. Give my mate a hand,” cried Captain Nancy, who simply could not help giving orders. “Susan and I’ll keep her from bumping this side, if Captain John’ll look out for any rocks under her bows.”

      “Are you ready?” said Peggy.

      “Steady. Steady. Not too fast,” called John.

      “Heave ho!” cried Nancy.

      “She’s coming! She’s coming!”

      “Not too fast,” said John again. “Go slow. The bottom’s awfully rough. . .” He ended in a gurgle, for on the outer side of the wreck he was on the very edge of the deep water, and as he spoke he slipped and went head under.

      It was easier going and better footing as soon as they were round the headland and inside the cove, and presently they were towing her along a smoothly shelving bottom.

      “I say, Nancy,” said John, “what about lifting her?”

      “Steady there, you on the warp,” called Nancy. “Now then, Skipper. Are you ready, Mister Mate?”

      She, Susan and John together, lifted the empty hull of the Swallow, which weighed very little while it was under water, and walked it into the shallows.

      “She’ll do here,” said Nancy. “If we can get her out. Now then, on the warp. Haul away. Way hay, up she rises. Way hay, up she rises.”

      The bows of the Swallow showed, and much of her gunwale, though her stern was still covered.

      “Steady,” said John. “Don’t try to pull her up too fast. The water’s got to run out. Now then.”

      “Oh, poor dear,” said Titty.

      As Swallow’s forefoot came up out of the water, Titty had seen the dreadful hole in the planking out of which the water was now pouring as fast as it had poured in.

      They rested a moment, and then hauled again, all pulling together, and brought her half out of the water. The bottom boards had shifted but had jammed under the thwarts and had not floated out. John pulled them out now. The baler was still in her, and Roger hopped in and began to bale the water out over her stern. Susan found the milk-bottle and emptied out of it a little cloudy grey liquid that was all that was left of the thick fresh milk she had put into it before they started. She found the lid of the kettle. Then, all working together, they turned Swallow on her beam ends to empty out the last of the water, and at last turned her over altogether to see what could be done in the way of repairs.

      This was careening that really mattered, and no pirates ever looked more anxiously over the bottom of their ship, beached on gold sand on some Pacific island, than the explorers searched now to find what damage had come to Swallow. There were a good many scratches in her paint, but, so far as they could see, no serious hurt except the gaping hole in her bows, where two planks had been stove in by the Pike Rock.

      “Well,” said Nancy, “you’ve got her up, and that’s the main thing.”

      “It’s only the beginning,” said Captain John.

      At this moment, just when they had the wrecked Swallow bottom upwards on the beach, and were looking at the broken planking, a shout from the mouth of the cove made them all turn round. A rowing boat was shooting in between the heads. There was nobody in her but a big man who had hitched his oars under his knees while he took off his broad-brimmed hat and mopped his head with a large red-and-green handkerchief.

      “Hullo, Uncle Jim,” Peggy called back to him.

      “It’s Captain Flint at last,” said Titty.

      “Hurrah,” said Roger.

      “You needn’t mind now,” said Nancy, looking at John. “It isn’t as if she was at the bottom of the sea.”

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