Again John caught a glimpse of the landing-place. He must do it now. Suddenly he felt stronger again. He swam in towards the beach. He had started from this side of Swallow . Well, he would not touch bottom until he was on the other side. Another two strokes and he gripped Swallow ’s port gunwale, touched the bottom, and crawled ashore, coughing, spitting, shivering, spluttering, and triumphant. Titty and Roger cheered. John was too much out of breath to speak.
“Here’s a towel,” said Susan. “I’ve hotted it by the fire.”
He put it round his shoulders. He rubbed first one arm and then the other. He felt much better.
“Well, I thought I could do it,” he said at last. The day was a good day after all, in spite of Captain Flint.
Susan was just thinking of getting dinner ready when there was a shout from Titty, who had taken the telescope up to the lookout place just in case of cormorants, pirates, or anything else worth looking at.
“A native boat,” she shouted. “It’s mother. It’s the female native. She’s got her little native with her, and the nurse belonging to it.”
The Swallows all ran to the lookout point. The female native herself was rowing. She had already passed Houseboat Bay. Vicky and nurse were sitting in the stern of the rowing boat. The Swallows had one look and then rushed back to tidy their tents and put the camp in order. They spread their blankets neatly over their haybags, and turned down the tops of them. Susan put a lot of fresh wood on the fire. There was not much else to do. Then they ran back to the lookout place. The female native was already quite near. They waved. Nurse and Vicky waved back. The female native couldn’t wave, because she was rowing. She passed the head of the island, and a moment later was pulling in to the landing-place. The Swallows were there before her.