“I never thought of that,” said John. “There may have been a whole fleet of them waiting for us to go.”
“They may be on our island now,” said Titty.
“Anyway, let’s sail,” said Roger, who was never happy unless he could hear the water under Swallow ’s forefoot.
It was lively work sailing home, tacking through the native shipping in Rio Bay, and then beating against the southwest wind which met them squarely once they had left the shelter of the islands. They thought of taking in a reef, but did not want to if they could help it. There were hardish squalls now and again, and Mate Susan stood by ready to slip the halyard and bring the sail down if it was necessary. Roger got so wet with the spray splashing in over the bows that Susan made him come aft and sit in the bottom of the boat. There was no time to think of anything but the sailing until they came in under the lee of their own island. In Houseboat Bay the man on the houseboat got up from his chair on the afterdeck and looked at them through binoculars. But they hardly noticed him.
“Wind’ll drop at sunset,” said John. “We’ll land at the old landing-place. Swallow will be in good shelter there, and I’ll take her round to the harbour later on when it isn’t blowing so hard.”
So they landed at the old place. As soon as they landed they ran in a bunch up to their camp and looked into the tents. Then they went all over the island. Everything was just as they had left it. Nobody had been there. The pirates in the Amazon had had no allies.
They made a fire in the fireplace, and by the time they were sitting round it drinking their tea they had begun to think that they had been altogether wrong in thinking that the pirate flag had been hoisted on the Amazon for them to see. They began even not to be sure that they had heard the gun in Houseboat Bay.