“We will, won’t we?”
“We’ll put it in as a native settlement. They do that sometimes.”
“With a little picture?”
John drew a tiny house with trees and three little figures, a quarter of an inch high, for the natives, mother, Vicky and nurse. Then, in Houseboat Bay, he wrote its name and made a picture of the houseboat. Then again there was Dixon’s Farm, with a little figure and a cow, to show the produce of the country.
“Put in the savages with their wigwam and their snake,” said Titty, and a snake, a three-cornered black mark for the hut, and a fire, showed the country of the charcoal-burners.
Rio was marked with little houses and landing stages. The islands off Rio Bay were drawn in, but only one of them had a name. John wrote “Landing Island” beside the one where landing was forbidden and the Swallow had rested, swinging from the wooden pier in the darkness of the night.
“You ought to put in my island,” said Titty.
“Which island?”
“Where I watched for the Amazons that first day we saw them.”
It went in and was marked “Titty’s Island.”
Wild Cat Island was marked, with its lighthouse tree, its landing-place, its harbour and camp. Then a fish was drawn in Shark Bay, where they went perch-fishing. Then the captain began putting in a dotted line to show the track of the Swallow from Wild Cat Island to the Amazon River and back again.