Swallowdale. Arthur RansomeЧитать онлайн книгу.

      DIVING FOR THE ANCHOR

      “I wish I could take a turn at the diving,” said Nancy, “but it’s no good. I simply can’t keep under.”

      “It’s all right,” said John. “I’m not tired a bit. I’ll take your rope and make it fast to a pig of ballast. You start hauling when I give two jerks.”

      He fixed Swallow’s anchor among the rocks on the point, unfastened Nancy’s rope and swam out, towing the rope behind him. Down he went, grabbed the thwart of the Swallow with one hand, got a grip on it with his legs, and quickly, as quickly as ever he could, counting to himself as he did it, pushed the end of the rope through the loop on the top of a pig of ballast, tied two half-hitches, lifted the pig over the side, jerked twice on the rope and shot up in a hurry.

      “How many did you say there were?” asked Nancy.

      “Five more,” he panted. “But the rest’ll be easier. I know how to do it now.”

      “Tie two of them together,” said Nancy. “They don’t weigh much under water.”

      But it was just the tying that was the trouble. The little bit of extra work, in threading the rope through two of the stiff rope loops on the pigs of lead instead of through one, was just too much, and he had to come to the top to breathe without making the rope fast at all. So he gave that up and they were content with one pig of lead at a time. Five more times he went down. Five times Nancy felt two eager jerks on the rope and was hauling a pig of lead ashore as John’s dripping head shot up out of the water.

      “Now then,” he said, as he swam ashore after making fast the last pig. “It’s no good trying to free the mast and sail. If the sail gets torn we’ll have to mend it. Let’s try if she’ll come now. Her bows aren’t pointing this way though. Let’s try, gently.”

      They took hold of Swallow’s anchor rope and pulled, gently at first, and then harder. Something stirred far down and sent a quiver through the rope into their fingers. They pulled again and it was almost 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