“Now, Mister Mate,” whispered John. “Will you row, as quietly as ever you can? Roger goes forward to keep a lookout. Don’t shout if you see anything. Just tell the mate under your breath.”
“What about the mast?” asked the mate.
“If they’re watching, they’ll see the ship and know her, anyhow,” said Captain John. “If they’re not watching, the mast doesn’t matter. If they are in the house in those lighted rooms, they won’t be able to see anything at all out here. I’m sure we’ve done them, if we can find the boathouse. They’d have challenged us long before this if they’d seen us.”
The mate rowed with slow, steady strokes. Her oars made no noise at all. They slipped in and out of the water without a splash. Swallow was in smooth water now, sheltered by the high ground of the promontory. John steered till he could see the lights of the house reflected in the river. That was the opening in the reeds. He steered towards it. Presently there were tall reeds on either side of them. They were in the Amazon River.
“The boathouse is somewhere on the right bank,” whispered John. “That’s our left. Tell Roger to keep a lookout to port.”
Suddenly there was a splash in the reed beds, followed by a loud quack.
“What’s that?” said Susan, startled.
“Duck,” said the captain.
Susan rowed on.
There was a whisper from the lookout. “There it is. I see it.”
“Where?” whispered the mate, looking over her shoulder.