Missee Lee: The Swallows and Amazons in the China Seas Page 9

  “We didn’t see Captain Flint,” said Titty.

  “If you’re dead sure you saw the others Captain Flint won’t be far off. The same thing must have happened to them that happened to us. Perhaps we’ve been quite near each other all the time. Anyway, it’ll be all right now. Get hold of the gunwale, opposite Roger. Susan and I’ll take the stern. Now then. Lift!”

  They all lifted together. “Come on,” said John. “One more heave and we’ll have her afloat.”

  Swallow’s stern was floating. Her stem still rested on the shore. They climbed aboard, Titty first with the parrot-cage, then Susan, then Gibber, then Roger, and, last of all, John pushed her off and came in over the bows as she floated away.

  “Rowlocks!” said John. “Oh, well done, Roger. You come in the bows now and look out for rocks.”

  “Oh bother,” said Titty. “If only it wasn’t a dead calm.”

  “Can’t be helped,” said John.

  “Let me take an oar,” said Susan.

  “I’ll get her clear first,” said John. Already he was turning her round and working her slowly out of the cove. “No good getting her stove in,” he said to himself, “and not getting there at all.”

  Outside the cove he rowed along the island shore to put her near the place where the stone seat was, so that Titty could pick up her marks exactly as she had seen them first.

  “There’s the stone chair,” said Roger.

  “Now, Titty,” said John.

  “Not in line yet,” said Titty. “The dip in the skyline’s a long way right of the tree.”

  John rowed on.

  “Getting nearer,” said Titty. “They’re coming into line. … Now.”

  “We’ll keep them so,” said John. “You watch them and be compass. If you’ll take an oar, Susan, we’ll heave her along. I’ll row in the bows. Roger, you go aft. Susan on the middle thwart. And do keep Gibber out of the way.”

  In another moment they were ready. “Now then, Susan,” said John.

  “I say,” said Titty, after a few minutes, “it looked as if there was a pretty strong current between us and that shore.”

  “You watch the marks,” said John. “You’ll soon see if we’re being swept off our course.”

  “What sort of people were coming down the cliff?” asked Roger.

  “Couldn’t see,” said John. “You had the telescope.”

  “How many people?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “More than one?”

  “Yes.”

  “More than two?”

  “Don’t talk,” said John. “We’ve got to row.”

  “Well, how many?”

  “A good lot,” said John.

  “Forty or fifty,” said Susan. “And there was a lot of queer whistling.”

  “That fisherman’s stirred them up,” said Roger. “Or it may be the person who took those books and saw that Susan had been using their Primus.”

  “They’ll know we’re coming back,” panted Susan. “We’ve left our sleeping-bags and things.”

  “Pull, Susan,” said Titty. “The gap’s slipping away from the tree.”

  “Current,” said John, looking at Titty’s hand, which, like a compass needle was pointing always in one direction, towards the place where Amazon had disappeared into those distant trees.

  “Pull, Susan,” said Titty again.

  “Never mind about the compass-pointing,” said John. “No good if we’re in a current. We’ll have to go crabwise. You just keep telling us when the marks are in line and when they’re not.”

  “They’re not,” said Titty. “The gap’s open to the right. It’s still moving to the right. … Now it’s stopped. … Now it’s moving to the left. … In line.”

  “It’s going to be a pretty tough pull,” said John.

  “They’ll see us coming and wait for us,” said Roger.

  “They won’t go far from Amazon,” said Titty.

  “It’s going to take a long time,” said John. “Those people coming down the cliff are going to be on the island before we get back.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Susan. “Nothing matters, if only we’re all together again.”

  “I bet they thought we were drowned,” said Roger.

  “Gap’s moving away again,” said Titty. “Pull, Susan.”

  “Hullo,” cried Roger. “I can see that junk that came in last night. There’s a river in there.”

  “That’s why there’s a current,” panted John.

  “There’s a sort of square tower a bit above the junk,” said Roger. “And one on the other side. … And more junks further in. But, I say, I can’t see anything like a harbour.”

  “No, don’t look, Susan. Keep on pulling,” said John.

  “How are the marks?” he asked a few minutes later, seeing Titty glancing away from them towards the mouth of the river.

  “All right,” said Titty, finding them again. “In line, I mean.”

  “They might wave a flag or something,” said Roger.

  “Perhaps they haven’t seen us yet,” said Titty. “What’ll they say when they do?”

  “I know what Nancy’ll say,” Roger grinned.

  “What?”

  “Barbecued billygoats,” said Roger.

  “Oh, do shut up,” said John, and even Roger, looking at the sweat pouring down John’s face, was silent for a long time. He looked at Susan. She was rowing with her eyes shut, pulling, pulling with all her weight.

  “Let us row for a bit,” said Titty.

  “No,” said Susan.

  “The gap’s open to the left,” said Titty.

  “Good,” said John. “We must be getting out of the current. Easy a bit, Susan. Nearly there. Can you see where they went in?”

  “Not yet.”

  At last they were able to head straight for the shore. With every moment they were nearer to the trees.

  “I can’t see the dip in the hill any longer,” said Titty. “Only trees. But I can see where they went.”

  John looked over his shoulder. “I’ll paddle in,” he said. “Well done, old Susan. Roger, you go to the bows again.”

  “Good,” said Roger.

  “Mangoes,” said John. “Pretty nearly awash. We’ve been a long time. Bother that beastly current.”

  Already he was rowing in between queer huge-leaved trees. There was a din of insects.

  “Amazon ahoy!” shouted Roger. “There she is. But there’s no one in here.”

  “They’ll be close to,” said Susan.

  “Let’s do a hail all together.” said Roger.

  “Wait just a minute,” said John.

  Swallow slid on into the little creek where Amazon was lying, her painter fast to a tree and her stem pulled up on swampy ground.

  “Can’t we find a drier place to land?” said Susan. “Look at the holes they’ve made with their feet.”

  “They must have been in a hurry,” said John. “There’s a better place. Take your shoes off, Roger.

  “They are off,” said Roger indignantly. He had begun taking them off as soon as he had seen where Amazon was tied up.

  “Ready, now.” John gave a hard pull. They felt Swallow’s keel sliding through soft mud. She stopped. Roger jumped clear and landed on a huge tree-root. He grabbed her bows. In another moment John too was ashore and looking at Amazon.

  “They’ve taken their oars,” he said. “Hidden them probably.”

  “Nancy wasn’t rowing,” said Titty.

  “She must have lost her oars,” said John. “Using a bottomboard. Look at the mud on it. She must have done that coming in here.”

  Susan and Titty came ashore.

  “You can see where they went,” said John. “Funny. No hoofmarks of Captain Flint. But a lot of others. Barefooted.”

  “He wasn’t with them,” said Titty. “They’ll have gone to fetch him.”

  “That’s the way they went,” said John. “There are their tracks. They’ve gone along the
shore. Towards the mouth of the river.” He thought a moment and made up his mind. “Look here, we’ll go after them. Titty and Roger stay here and look after both boats.”

  “Oh, I say,” said Roger.

  “Somebody’s got to.”

  “Much better,” said Susan. “And there’s Gibber and Polly. Look after the boats between you. We’ll bring the others. We’ll have to go back to the island, anyhow, to fetch our things and explain about using that house.”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” said Titty.

  “But be quick,” said Roger. “We want to see them too.” John and Susan, following the tracks in the soft ground, hurried off and were instantly out of sight among the trees.

  CHAPTER VII

  THE SHADOW OF A MONKEY

  FOR a long time, Roger and Titty did as they had been told. They tidied up Amazon and put her bottomboards back into place after cleaning the mud from the one that had been used as a paddle. Roger put his shoes on. They hung about, listening and waiting in the green shadow of the trees where they could see almost as little as if they had been shut up in a room.

  “Look here,” said Roger at last. “This is a bit hard on Gibber. He’d like to explore and I don’t see why we shouldn’t so long as we stay close to the boats.”

  “They’ll be back any minute,” said Titty. “They must have found the others by this time.”

  “We’ll hear them coming,” said Roger.

  “We must keep close to,” said Titty.

  “Just far enough to find some more bananas for Gibber,” said Roger.

  “Hi, wait a minute,” said Titty. “I can’t leave Polly. Help me to hitch his cage on. It’s all very well for you with two spare hands.”

  Roger held the cage while Titty wriggled her arms through the carrying loops. Then, with the cage on her back and both hands free to push aside bamboo shoots and the clinging tendrils of the climbing plants, she followed Roger. The two boats were well tied up. There could be no harm in going just a few yards from the shore. It might be the only chance of exploring just here. Susan had said that as soon as they had found the others, they would be going back to the island.

  “Don’t let’s go any further,” said Titty almost as soon as the boats, left behind them, were hidden by the tall undergrowth.

  “Let’s find somewhere to sit down,” said Roger. … “No, Gibber. To heel!” He gave a gentle tug at the monkey’s lead, and Gibber seemed to understand and kept close to his master.

  They stopped where a sort of pine tree had shed its needles on the ground and so had made a little clearing round itself.

  “This’ll do,” said Titty. “No further.” She began to wriggle out of the loops of the parrot-cage. With one shoulder free, she stopped and listened.

  “They’re coming back,” said Roger, and put a hand to his mouth to shout “Ahoy!”

  “Sh!” said Titty. “Don’t yell. That’s not the way they went. We’d better get back to the boats.”

  “People, anyway,” said Roger. “Quite near. I’ll just scout and see.”

  Titty wriggled the loose loop back on her shoulder and followed Roger and the monkey.

  “Come on,” said Roger over his shoulder, pushing his way through the undergrowth.

  “I don’t believe we ought,” said Titty.

  They heard voices again.

  “It’s not them,” said Titty. “Come back.”

  “I must just see,” said Roger.

  “Roger,” said Titty, but did not dare to shout, or even to talk above a whisper. Bother Roger. She pushed after him, and almost fell over him, crouching with Gibber at the very edge of the belt of forest. She dropped beside him.

  They were looking out on open country, with rocks and tussocks of coarse grass, that stretched almost to the foot of the brown hill they had seen from far away rising above the trees. A long row of Chinese, twenty or thirty yards apart, were slowly moving forward, in hops, never standing up but getting along with bent knees, a hop, a crouching search for something, and then another hop. Their yellow bodies were naked to the waist. Their short blue trousers flapped above their ankles. They had wide conical hats like straw-coloured lampshades.

  “Like yellow frogs,” whispered Roger.

  “Keep down,” whispered Titty.

  “Gosh, that one gave a good hop. Ow, look out. He’s coming close by.”

  “Keep still.”

  “I am keeping still. Hop. There he goes again. Look at his shadow.”

  One of the Chinese, blue-trousered, straw-hatted, yellow-bodied, was no more than a dozen yards from the lurking watchers. He hopped, crouched and suddenly snatched into a tuft of grass and put something into a little yellow box that he had in his left hand. The sun was behind him and each time he hopped his queer black shadow flopped forward over the ground. He came on, crouching, hopping and snatching suddenly at the grass. Sometimes he seemed to get nothing. Sometimes, after a snatch, his right hand swept across to meet his left, and there was a sharp click as the little box closed on whatever it was he had put into it. Every moment Titty thought he was going to turn directly towards them. But he never turned. It was as if he had a line to follow. Beyond him was another Chinese doing exactly the same, and beyond him another and another.

  TWO SHADOWS JERKED FORWARD

  He was only a few yards away. Titty could not bear to watch him. She held her breath and looked down at the ground where she was kneeling. Once let him get well past and, whatever Roger might say, they would go back through the forest to the shore and the boats. Suddenly she heard Roger gasp. She looked up and followed Roger’s pointing finger.

  “Got away,” whispered Roger. “Lead and all.”

  Gibber, his lead trailing on the dry grass, was out in the open and following the Chinese. Gibber had found something new to copy. As the Chinese crouched, so did Gibber. As he hopped forward, so did Gibber. As he searched a tussock of grass the monkey did the same. And now, each time the Chinese hopped, not one but two shadows jerked forward over the ground.

  Titty and Roger could not breathe. They could not shout to call Gibber back. They could do nothing. And the monkey, more and more interested, copying every movement of the man, was coming nearer and nearer to him, perhaps trying to see what it was that he ought to be snatching from the grass. Hop, hop. The leaping shadows were almost side by side. Hop, hop. They were almost touching. And suddenly the Chinese, crouching, searching, hopping, saw the monkey’s shadow jerk forward with his own. He looked over his shoulder straight into Gibber’s face, screamed, jumped up, dropped his little box and then, seeing what it was, made an angry grab at the monkey. Gibber was as startled as the man and jumped away. The man kicked at him, missed him, saw the lead trailing across the grass, set his foot on it, seized it and jerked the monkey backwards.

  “Hi! Stop that! He’s my monkey,” shouted Roger, dashing to the rescue.

  The man stared, caught Roger by the arm, looked round for his little box and found Titty facing him in a fury. “Let go of him at once,” she said. The other hoppers and searchers were running towards them and in two minutes there were Chinese all round them, chattering, staring at them, fingering their clothes, and pointing at the green parrot in the cage on Titty’s back.

  Suddenly one of the Chinese pointed at himself. “One time number one boy,” he said. “One time number one cook big steamer. Talkee English velly good. You Melican missee? Melican boy?”

  “English,” said Titty.

  “Make him let go my monkey,” said Roger.

  The one-time cook spoke to the others, took Gibber’s lead from the man who had caught him and gave it to Roger.

  “You come talkee Taicoon Chang,” he said.

  There was nothing to be done but to obey and Titty and Roger found themselves hurrying along in the middle of the Chinese.

  “What about the others?” said Roger. “And the boats?”

  “I know, I know,” said Titty. “They’ll be pretty mad. But they’ll see which way we’ve gone
and Captain Flint’ll know what to do.”

  “Shall I shout?”

  “No,” said Titty. “If they’re friends there’s no need and if they’re enemies it’s no good getting everybody grabbed as well as us.”

  “They’ve got an awful funny smell,” said Roger.

  “Just foreignness,” said Titty.

  “But pretty decent grins, some of them,” said Roger. “What do you think they’ve got in those boxes?”

  He touched the little bamboo box in the hand of one of the Chinese who was walking beside him.

  “Berries?” he asked.

  The man stared at him, but seemed to understand what he meant. He held the little box close to Roger’s ear and shook it gently.

  “Sounds like matches,” said Roger.

  The prisoners were being hurried along, not towards the mouth of the river, but in the opposite direction, towards the point that they had seen when looking out from the stone chair on the little island. They were moving over open country further and further away from the belt of forest that ran along the shore. The ground was rising. Presently they could see the glitter of water through the tops of the trees to their right, and suddenly straight ahead of them the ground fell sharply. They were looking down towards another belt of forest and beyond it the long line of the open sea. On the slope before them were some scattered pine-trees. Under the pine-trees there were men with cartridge-belts slung about their naked shoulders and rifles in their hands.

  At the sight of them the Chinese who had captured Roger and Titty broke into a run, their prisoners with them. The men with rifles looked round and made angry gestures. The Chinese with Roger and Titty stopped running and went forward on tiptoe as if afraid to make the slightest noise. They came to the pine-trees. The guards who were standing about stared at Titty and Roger.

  “Look at that chair,” said Roger, pointing to a carved wooden chair with crimson cushions in it and long bamboo carrying poles at each side.

  Suddenly they were looking down into a hollow, where was a group of about a dozen Chinese. There was a flood of bird-song, larks singing as if to see which could sing the loudest. They saw a lot of bamboo bird-cages. And then, as they came nearer they saw that the men standing round were respectfully watching a man in a pale blue robe with a blue skull cap that had a red button on the top of it. He was crouched low to the ground, whistling to something close in front of him.