they had seen the lake like an inland sea. And on the lake they had seen the island. All four of them had been filled at once with the same idea. It was not just an island. It was the island, waiting for them. It was their island. With an island like that within sight, who could be content to live on the mainland and sleep in a bed at night? They had gone back and told their mother of their discovery, and begged that the whole family should leave the farmhouse the next day, and camp on the island forever. But there was little Vicky, a fat baby, like the pictures of Queen Victoria in old age, full of all sorts of needs. Mother could not take Vicky and the nurse to camp even on the best of un-inhabited islands. Nor, without leave from daddy, could she let them go alone. And though John and Susan were both well able to manage a sailing boat, Titty and Roger had only begun to learn how to sail when their father had been home on leave a year before. In the boathouse below the farm there was the Swallow, a sailing boat, a very little one, and there was also a big, heavy rowing boat. But no one wants to row who has ever sailed. If there had been no island, no sailing boat, and if the lake had not been so large, the children, no doubt, would have been happy enough to paddle about with oars in the bay by the boathouse. 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.
So the letters had been written and posted, and day after day the children had been camping on the Peak of Darien by day, and sleeping in the farmhouse by night. They had been out in the rowing boat with their mother, but they had always rowed the other way so as not to spoil the voyage of discovery by going to the island first. But with each day after the sending of the letters it had somehow seemed less and less likely that there would ever be an answer. The island had come to seem one of those places seen from the train that belong to a life in which we shall never take part. And now, suddenly, it was real. It was to be their island after all. They were to be allowed to use the sailing boat by themselves. They were to be allowed to sail out from the little sheltered bay, and round the point, and down the lake to the island. They were to be allowed to land on the island, and to live there until it was time to pack up again and go home to town and school and lessons. The news was so good that it made them solemn. They ate their bread and marmalade in silence. The prospect before them was too vast for chatter. John was thinking of the sailing, wondering whether he really remembered all that he had learnt last year. Susan was thinking of the stores and the cooking. Titty was thinking of the island itself, of coral, treasure and footprints in the sand. Roger was thinking of the fact that he was not to be left behind. He saw for the first time that it was a good thing to be no longer the baby of the family. Vicky was youngest now. Vicky would stay at home, and Roger, one of the crew of a ship, was to sail away into the unknown world.
At last John took a sheet of paper and a pencil from his pocket.
“Let’s make the Ship’s Articles,” he said.
The bread and marmalade had all been eaten, so he turned the plate upside down, and put the paper on the back of it, and lay on his stomach on the rock. He wrote:
“Sailing Vessel Swallow. Port, Holly Howe. Owners . . .”
“Who are the owners?”
“She belongs to us for the rest of these holidays anyhow,” said Susan.
“I shall put ‘Walkers Limited’ to do for all of us.”
He wrote, “Owners, Walkers Limited.” Underneath that he wrote:
“Master: John Walker.
Mate: Susan Walker.
Able-seaman: Titty Walker.
Ship’s Boy: Roger.”
“Now,” he said, “you all have to sign opposite your names.”
They all signed.
“Well, Mister Mate,” said John.
“Sir,” replied Susan smartly.
“How soon do you think we shall be ready to put to sea?”
“With the first breath of wind.”
“What do you think of your crew?”
“The best I ever shipped.”
“Can they swim?”
“Able-seaman Titty can. The Boy Roger still keeps one foot on the bottom.”
“He must learn.”
“I don’t keep a foot on the bottom all the time,” said Roger.
“You must learn as soon as possible not to keep it on the bottom at all.”
“All right,” said Roger.
“That’s all wrong, Roger,” said Titty. “You ought to have said, ‘Aye, aye, sir!’”
“I nearly always do,” said Roger, “I said it to mother.”
“You must say it to the captain and to the mate. Perhaps you ought to say it even to me, but as there are only two in the crew it won’t do for them to be saying sir to each other.”
“Have you got any more paper?” said Susan.
“Only the back of the telegram,” said John.
“Mother won’t mind our using it,” said Susan. “You know we can’t really sail with the first breath of wind, not until everything is ready. Let’s make a list of the things.”
“Compass,” said John.
MAKING SHIP’S PAPERS
”Kettle,” said Susan.
“A flag,” said Titty. “I’ll make one with a swallow on it.”
“Tents,” said Roger.
“Telescope,” said John.
“Saucepan, mugs, knives, forks, tea, sugar, milk,” said Susan, writing as hard as she could go.
“Spoons,” said Roger.
They kept remembering things and then getting stuck, and then remembering some more until there was no more room on the back of the telegram.
“I haven’t got another scrap of paper,” said John. “Even the Ship’s Articles have got sums on the other side. Bother the list. Let’s go and ask mother if we can have the key of the boathouse.”
But when they came to Holly Howe Farm, mother met them in the doorway with her finger on her lips.
“Vicky’s asleep,” she said; “don’t make a noise coming in. Supper’s just ready.”
CHAPTER II
MAKING
