Table Of ContentSwallows and Amazons
Arthur Ransome
FlRST PUBLISHED BYJONATHAN CAPE IN 1930 NEW ILLlJSTRATED EDITON 1931
REPRINTED 1932, 1933 (twice), 1934 (3 times), 1935, 1936, 1937 (s times), 19388, 1939, 19411, 1942
(twice), 1943 (twice), 1944 (twice), 1945, 1946, 1947, 194B, 1949, 1951, 1953, 1955
NEW EDITON, TYPE RE-SET 1958, REPRINTED 1960, 1962, 1964, 1967, 1970, 1974. 1976, 1982,
1985, 1990, 1995, 1997, 1999 (twice), 2000, 2002, 2003, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED WITHOUT THE PRIOR PERMISSION OF
THE ARTHUR RANSOME ESTATE THROUGH THE PUBLISHERS JONATHAN CAPE,
RANDOM HOUSE, 20 VAUXHALL BRIDGE ROAD, LONDON, SWIV 2SA
ISBN 978 0 224 60631 8
PRINTED AND BOUND IN GREAT BRITAIN BY MACKAYS OF CHATHAM PLC, CHATHAM,
KENT
CONTENTS
I THE PEAK IN DARIEN
II MAKING READY
III THE VOYAGE TO THE ISLAND
IV THE HIDEN HARBOUR
V FIRST NIGHT ON THE ISLAND
VI ISLAND LIFE
VII MORE ISLAND LIFE
VIII SKULL AND CROSSBONES
IX THE ARROW WITH THE GREEN FEATHER
X THE PARLEY
XI IN ALLIANCE
XII LEADING LIGHTS
XIII THE CHARCOAL-BURNERS
XIV THE LETTER FROM CAPTAIN FLINT
XV CAPTAIN JOHN VISITS CAPTAIN FLINT
XVI THE BIRTHDAY PARTY
XVII A FAIR WIND
XVIII ROBINSON CRUSOE AND MAN FRIDAY
XIX THE AMAZON RIVER
XX TITTY ALONE
XXI SWALLOWS IN THE DARK
XXII THE WHITE FLAG
XXIII TAKING BREATH
XXIV GRAVE NEWS FROM HOUSEBOAT BAY
XXV CAPTAIN FLINT GETS THE BLACK SPOT
XXVI HE MAKES PEACE AND DECLARES WAR
XXVII THE BATTLE IN HOUSEBOAT BAY
XXVIII THE TREASURE ON CORMORANT ISLAND
XXIX TWO SORTS OF FISH
XXX THE STORM
XXXI THE SAILORS' RETURN
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
DESPATCHES
MAKING SHIP'S PAPERS
THE START OF THE VOYAGE
FEELING THEIR WAY IN
THE CAMP FIRE
PEARL DIVING
"IT'S A SHARK!"
ROGER ON GUARD
UNSEEN ENEMY
CARRYING UP THE PUNCHEON
LEADING LIGHTS
THE SERPENT
LOADING FIREWOOD
CAPTAIN JOHN BACKWATERED
THE LIGHTHOUSE TREE
THE ENEMY'S BOATHOUSE
NIGHT SAILING
"DO YOU SURRENDER?"
"GO IT, NANCY!"
THERE WAS A BANG
CAPTAIN FLINT WALKS THE PLANK
"WE'VE FOUND IT!"
WIND, RAIN AND LIGHTNING
FAREWELL!
MAPS (BY STEVEN SPURRIER)
WlLD CAT ISIAND
GENERAL MAP
TO
THE SIX FOR WHOM IT WAS WRITTEN
IN EXCHANGE FOR
A PAIR OF SLIPPERS
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I have often been asked how I came to write Swallows and Amazons. The answer is that
it had its beginning long, long ago when, as children, my brother, my sisters and I spent
most of our holidays on a farm at the south end of Coniston. We played in or on the lake
or on the hills above it, finding friends in the farmers and shepherds and charcoal-
burners whose smoke rose from the coppice woods along the shore. We adored the
place. Coming to it, we used to run down to the lake, dip our hands in and wish, as if we
had just seen the new moon. Going away from it, we were half drowned in tears. While
away from it, as children and as grown-ups, we dreamt about it. No matter where I was,
wandering about the world, I used at night to look for the North Star and, in my mind's
eye, could see the beloved skyline of great hills beneath it. Swallows and Amazons grew
out of those old memories. I could not help writing it. It almost wrote itself.
A.R.
Haverthwaite May 19th, 1958
SWALLOWS AND AMAZONS
CHAPTER I
THE PEAK IN DARIEN
"Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific - and all his men
Looked at each other with a wild surmise
Silent, upon a peak in Darien."
ROGER, aged seven, and no longer the youngest of the family, ran in wide zigzags, to
and fro, across the steep field that sloped up from the lake to Holly Howe, the farm
where they were staying for part of the summer holidays. He ran until he nearly reached
the hedge by the footpath, then turned and ran until he nearly reached the hedge on the
other side of the field. Then he turned and crossed the field again. Each crossing of the
field brought him nearer to the farm. The wind was against him, and he was tacking up
against it to the farm, where at the gate his patient mother was awaiting him. He could
not run straight against the wind because he was a sailing vessel, a teaclipper, the Cutty
Sark. His elder brother John had said only that morning that steamships were just
engines in tin boxes. Sail was the thing, and so, though it took rather longer, Roger made
his way up the field in broad tacks.
When he came near his mother, he saw that she had in her hand a red envelope and a
small piece of white paper, a telegram. He knew at once what it was. For a moment he
was tempted to run straight to her. He knew that telegrams came only from his father,
and that this one must be the answer to a letter from his mother, and letters from John,
Susan, Titty, and himself, all asking the same thing, but asking it in different ways. His
own letter had been very short. "Please, Daddy, may I too? With love. Roger." Titty's
had been much longer, longer even than John's. Susan, though she was older than Titty,
had not written a letter of her own. She had put her name with John's at the end of his, so
that these two had sent one letter between them. Mother's letter had been the longest of
all, but Roger did not know what she had said in it. All the letters had gone together, a
very long way, to his father, whose ship was at Malta but under orders for Hong Kong.
And there, in his mother's hand, was the red envelope that had brought the answer. For a
moment Roger wanted to run straight to her. But sail was the thing, not steam, so he
tacked on, heading, perhaps, a little closer to the wind. At last he headed straight into the
wind, moved slower and slower, came to a stop at his mother's side, began to move
backwards, and presently brought up with a little jerk, anchored, and in harbour.
"Is it the answer?" he panted, out of breath after all that beating up against the wind.
