By Arthur Ransome
Oh dear, it’s March and this is only the second book I’ve finished. I’m way behind!
The thing with classic children’s literature is that you can escape into a world of innocence. Of course, as an educated adult in the 21st c, I know this innocence to be an illusion based on Western-Eurocentric privilege, but nevertheless, I was charmed by this tale of childhood adventure. Everything is grounded in reality, but the children’s world-building of exploring, pirating, alliance-forging and treasure hunting makes a delightful read.The story is set in the Lake District, a mountainous region in northwest England, during the summer of 1929. This was just before the stock market crash that set off the Great Depression and then World War 2. So a poignantly idyllic period. The Walker children want to plan an expedition to a small island in the lake and have just been granted permission from their absent father, who’s serving overseas in the Navy, which is relayed via telegram by their mother.
There is much excitement and planning as they prepare their equipment and food. It’s interesting to read how English folk in the 1920’s prepped for a camping trip without any nylon, velcro or plastic. The mother actually made the tents, groundsheets and hay bags, basically sacks stuffed with hay.
The tents were of the simplest kind. Each tent had a three-cornered piece for the back. The back was sewn to the sides, and a piece of stout rope was stitched to the canvas inside to make the ridge of the roof. The ends of this rope were fastened to two trees, and so held the tent up. No tent poles were needed. Along the bottom edges of the back and sides there were big pockets, to be filled with stones. On rocky ground, where you cannot drive in tent pegs, this is a good plan. At the front of the tent there were loose flaps, joined to the sides, so that they could be rolled up and tied out of the way with two pairs of tapes that worked like the reef points in a sail.
What’s great was that the children a far from being duffers, they were very capable of handling Swallow, their small sailing boat, building fires, setting up camp and making meals, even boiling water for tea. The kids packed their boat with all the smaller items that they’d need, but the mother came in another boat with their bedding of hay. The setting off for the island was great. Another cool factor was the children’s use of sailing terminology. Even though it’s a freshwater lake:
But with a lake as big as a small sea, a fourteen-foot dinghy with a brown sail waiting in the boathouse, and the little wooded island waiting for explorers, nothing but a sailing voyage of discovery seemed worth thinking about.
And the children were organized as a crew with John as captain, Susan as first mate, Titty as able seaman (oh, the innocence) and the youngest, Roger, as ship’s boy.
With the next tack John took the Swallow further out into the lake and went about for the last time when he was well clear of the northern end of the island. He sailed past it and as soon as he was clear of all its rocks, he called:
“Jibe O!”
Mate Susan hauled in the sheet as fast as she could. John put the helm up. Swallow turned south once more, the boom swung over their heads, Susan paying out the sheet as soon as it had passed over, and they were once more sailing down the inside, eastern shore. Just before they were opposite the little bay with the pebbly beach, John called out:
“Stand by to take in sail. Lower away!”
Mate Susan was all ready with the halyard in her hand. She slackened the halyard without letting go of it. Down came the sail.
“Grab the gaff, Roger!” and Roger grabbed it.
It was almost like a Patrick O’Brian novel with John as a young Captain Aubrey!
The world between the children and adults was clearly drawn. Everyone outside of Wild Cat Island who lived in houses and amongst each other in villages were ‘natives’. When the Swallows meet the Amazons (Nancy and Peggy Blackett), they’re both integrated into each other’s worlds. The exceptions were Mary Walker, the mother, and Nancy & Peggy’s uncle, “Captain Flint”.
These natives! Friendly though they were, there was never any knowing what mischief they might do. It was just that thought that had made John jump up in such a hurry when he saw the time. If Mr. Dixon had gone along to Holly Howe to ask what had happened, and whether the milk was wanted, mother would have been bound to think that something had gone wrong. And nothing had gone wrong at all. Everything had gone right. John knew well enough that mother counted on the regular morning visit to Dixon’s farm for the milk to keep her in touch with the Swallows. Mother knew that the Dixons would let her know at once if no one had come up from the island with the milk-can.
Natives were like that, useful in a way, but sometimes a bother. They all held together, a huge network of gossip and scouting, through the meshes of which it was difficult for explorers and pirates to slip.
I wonder how the rest of the series plays out during WWII. Does the father remain absent because he’s called to join the war effort? We shall have to see.
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I watched both film adaptations of Swallows and Amazons. The 2016 version was a bit disappointing – it looked good, but they beefed up the villain subplot, an unnecessary and obvious ploy to make the plot more exciting. Worse, the Walker children were not as wilderness savvy, more whiny and less capable. The 1974 version was a much more faithful adaptation.
