“Push her off,” said John, putting the tiller hard aport.
Titty pushed. The Swallow moved backwards. Then her sail filled, she hesitated, heeled over a little, and began to move forward again. Titty waved her hand and climbed to the top of the islet, and sat there resting the telescope on her knees.
Three or four short tacks brought the Swallow to the nearest of the landing stages for rowing boats that run out from the shore in Rio Bay. Roger climbed on to the landing stage, took two turns round a bollard with the painter, and then sat himself on the top of it. To be on the safe side they lowered the sail. Then John and Susan hurried up the landing stage to the little store where you could buy anything from mousetraps to peppermints.
“Four bottles of grog, please,” said John without thinking.
“Ginger beer,” said Susan gravely.
John was looking at a coil of rope in a corner of the shop.
“And twenty yards of this rope,” he said.
The shopman measured off twenty yards and made a neat coil of them. He put four bottles of ginger beer on the counter. John put down his five shillings. He took the coil of rope and two of the bottles. Susan took the other two.
“It’s a grand day,” said the shopman as he handed out the change.
“Yes, isn’t it?” said John.
This was the whole of their conversation with the natives of Rio.
When they came back to the landing stage, Roger said, “One of the natives came and said, ‘That’s a fine little ship you have there.’ ”