Swallows and Amazons. Arthur Ransome

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      “It’ll be years and years before we have been everywhere,”said Roger.

      “We’ll make a chart of our own,” said John, “and every year we’ll put in the part we have explored until we know it all.”

      They took turns in steering the Swallow. Susan, of course, was nearly as good a steersman as Captain John. Able-seaman Titty was learning fast, and before they came home even the Boy Roger was allowed to take the tiller, though John sat by him ready to take charge if anything should go wrong.

      It was while they were beating home again that they discovered another island. There were plenty of islands in the lake, but this was one they had not noticed, because it was very small, and so near the mainland that they had thought it was a promontory. Now, when they were near the western shore of the lake, tacking homewards, they saw the water clear between the island and the mainland. It was on the western shore, not quite opposite their own island, but a little further north. At once they made up their minds not to sail home, but to tack a little further up the lake to look at this new island.

      “Let’s sail through the strait between it and the shore,” said Titty.

      “There isn’t room,” said John, “not beating. We could run through it all right, if there’s deep enough water, but it’s probably rocky. I won’t take her through under sail. But we’ll sail right up to the island.”

      One long tack took them to their own island, and the next brought them to this new island that they had just discovered. It was very small. There was nothing on it but rocks and heather and two dead trees. One of the trees had fallen. The other was still standing. Many of its branches were broken and it had no leaves. But instead of leaves on the bare tree, there was something else. Three dark birds with long necks were perched on its branches. Titty watched them through the telescope.

      “They’ve got indiarubber necks,” she said.

      “There’s another,” said Roger. “It’s got something in its beak.”

      A fourth bird flew up from the lake, with a bright, gleaming fish in its beak. It perched on one of the boughs, and threw its head up, and swallowed the fish. The other birds were waving their long necks and yawning.

      “What are they?” said Roger.

      “Cormorants,” said Captain John.

      “Not really,” said Titty. “Then perhaps we’re near the coast of China. The Chinese have cormorants and train them to catch fish for them. I’ve seen a picture of them.”

      As the Swallow sailed nearer, they saw one of the cormorants fly down to the water, followed by the other three. They counted the four birds in the water. Suddenly there were only three. Then the fourth came up again. Then another disappeared. Then another. Then one came up with a fish and flew back to the bare tree.

      “They’re fishing,” said Titty; “they’re fishing now.”

      “On our chart,” said Captain John, “we’ll call this island Cormorant Island.”

      When the Swallow came nearer to the island, the bird on the tree flew away, a big, dark bird, with a splash of white under his chin. The other three that were in the water swam fast away with only their heads and necks showing. Then they too lifted themselves from the water and flew after the first.

      “Shall we land?” said Roger.

      “It’s nothing but stones,” said John.

      “Let’s get back and make tea,” said the mate.

      “Ready about!” called John, and Swallow swung round. He let the sheet out, and Swallow ran for the southern end of their own island. As Captain John luffed up into the opening through the outer rocks, Susan brought the sail down, and they paddled Swallow safely through into her little sheltered harbour.

      After supper they took the telescope up to the Look-Out Point. Until it grew too dark, they could see the cormorants on the tree on Cormorant Island. But they would not have known what they were if they had not seen them from close to. They lay there, making plans as if they were going to be on the island all their lives.

      “Properly,” said Captain John, “we ought to shoot wild goats for our food.”

      “Only there aren’t any,” said Susan.

      “And we haven’t got a gun,” said Roger.

      “Of course,” said John, “it’s quite all right to have provisions, pemmican, and all that, especially biscuits. All explorers do that, but they get most of their food by shooting and fishing. Tomorrow we’ll fish, and we’ll live on the fish we catch.”

      “I wish we had a tame cormorant,” said Titty.

      “We’ve got fishing rods,” said John.

      CHAPTER VII

      MORE ISLAND LIFE

      NEXT MORNING the whole of Swallow’s ship’s company bathed before breakfast. The landing-place, with its little beach, on the eastern side of the island was a good place for bathing. There was sand there, and though there were stones, they were not so sharp as elsewhere. Also the water did not go deep there very suddenly, and after Susan had walked out a good long way, she said that Roger might bathe too.

      Roger, who had been waiting on the beach, pranced splashing into the water.

      “You’re to swim as well as splash,” said Mate Susan.

      “Aye, aye, sir,” said Roger. He crouched in the water with only his head out. That, at least, felt very like swimming.

      John and Susan swam races, first one way, and then the other.

      Titty, privately, was being a cormorant.

      This was not the sort of thing that she could very well talk of to John or Susan until she was sure that it was a success. So she said nothing about it. But she had seen that there were lots of minnows in the shallow water close to the shore. Perhaps there would be bigger ones further out, like the fish the cormorants had been catching yesterday. Titty had watched them carefully. The way they did it was to swim quietly and then suddenly to dive under water, humping their backs, keeping their wings close together, and going under head first. She tried, but she found that unless she used her arms, she did not get under water at all. Even when she used her arms she could not get right under without a long, splashing struggle on the surface.

      “Why do you wave your legs in the air, Titty?” Roger asked after one of these dives. It was too true. Titty herself knew that long after she had put her head under and was swimming downwards as hard as she could her legs were kicking out of the water altogether.

      PEARL DIVING

      She went further out, to be nearer the fish, and further from Roger. At last she found the trick of turning her hands so that her arm strokes pulled her down. She found that she could open her eyes easily enough, but that it was like trying to see in a bright green fog. There were no fish СКАЧАТЬ