the Goblin was violently rocked in the wash as the second steamer went by. Roger, kneeling in his bunk, holding on by the shelf behind it, caught just a glimpse of the steamer’s blazing lights.
INSIDE THE GOBLIN
“I wonder if those porpoises’ll be seeing them,” he said, as he settled again under his blankets. No one answered him. A few minutes later the Goblin had stopped rolling, and the only sound to be heard in her cabin was the quiet breathing of her sleeping crew.
CHAPTER VI
“NOTHING CAN POSSIBLY HAPPEN”
SPLASH! Splash! Splash! Splash!
It was seven o’clock in the morning and they had been waked by a shout down the forehatch, “Rouse up there, the watch below. Anybody want a dip? No time to spare, if we’re going down the harbour before the tide turns.” Jim was already on the foredeck, in bathing things. There had been a hurried rush to join him.
“Now then,” he said, and dived.
But there were four splashes only. John, Susan, Titty and their skipper came up with the taste of salt water in their mouths, shaking their heads and blowing like seals.
“Come on, Roger,” said John.
“It’s waste not to use the ladder,” said Roger.
Jim had slung a rope ladder over the side, and fastened it to the shrouds to make it easy for people to climb aboard again. Roger meant to use it both ways.
“Go on, Roger! Head first!” said John.
But Roger was already on the lowest step of the ladder and was feeling the water with the toes of one foot.
“It isn’t very cold, really,” he said.
“It’s boiling,” said Titty. “Come on.”
Roger lowered himself into the water, let go of the ladder, and swam to join her.
“Don’t forget the ebb,” said Jim, bobbing up close beside them. “Keep close to the ship, and keep swimming. I don’t want to have to come rowing after you in the Imp if you get swept away. Go on. Swim hard, against the tide. Just a dip and out again. We can have another later on. . . There’s no time now. We ought to be sailing.”
Susan was already at the ship’s side, hanging on to the ladder.
“Out you come, Roger,” she said. She climbed up with the help of the shrouds, grabbed one of the towels she had left on the foredeck, and began a rub down.
One after another they joined her, and the foredeck rained with water.
“Come on, Titty,” said Susan. “We’ll get into our clothes in the cockpit. No good bringing half the North Sea into the cabin.”
“It isn’t the North Sea,” said Titty. “It’s only the river.”
“Just as wet,” said Susan cheerfully. She had been a bit bothered about that bathing from the anchored Goblin. Roger had been able to swim for some time now, but swimming in deep water, with the tide ready to carry you away if you gave it a chance, was very different from swimming in the lake. She was a good deal relieved to have everybody safe back aboard. Now she would get those burners lit and make them start the day properly with a solid breakfast.
But that was not to be. She was hardly dressed and down in the cabin filling the kettle before Roger, a pink savage with a towel round his middle, crawled aft along the cabin roof and looked down at her through the companion-hatch.
“I say, Susan,” he said. “Please pass up my clothes and John’s. Jim’s got into his already and they’re just going to hoist the mainsail.”
“Oh, look here,” said Susan. “They can’t start with nothing to eat after bathing.”
“I thought so too, “ said Roger. “But Jim says there isn’t time to wait for it.”
Susan put her head out, to see Jim, fully dressed, and John a kilted savage like Roger, busy with the ropes at the foot of the mast.
“You must have breakfast first. . . ” she began, but they were thinking of quite other things.
MORNING DIP
“Good,” said John. “Susan’s ready.”
“Hang on to that crutch, Mate Susan,” called Jim, “and slack away a little mainsheet.”
In a ship, orders are orders, and Susan took hold of the crutch, and Titty, who had been squeezing bathing clothes over the side, let out some mainsheet, and they saw the boom cock up over their heads.
“Breakfast,” began Susan again. “You must have some thing to eat before starting.”
“Have it when we’re under way,” called Jim. “Here you are, John, hold on to that while I get the main up. Susan! Can you just cast off that tyer, just above your head?”
The mainsail, fold on fold, was lifting off the cabin top. Roger had scrambled out of the way. The sail was up. Susan heard Jim say, “Slacken away the topping lift. That’s right. . . ” and then, “Hullo, there, Mate Susan. Stand by the tiller, will you? A.B. Titty, will you be ready to harden in the port jib sheet. . . ? No. No. Not until I’ve got the anchor off the bottom. Where’s that mop, A.B. Roger?”
The next moment she heard the rattle of the chain coming in. It was no good talking to them about breakfast. The chain was coming up, fathom after fathom. Roger had untied the mop, and John was dipping it over the side and washing the Shotley mud off the cabin. “Now then, Roger, let the jib unroll. Yes. That’s it. Just cast it loose. She’s up and down now.” Jim was looking over the bows. He was hauling again. “Anchor’s up,” he shouted. “Back the jib, John.” The chain was coming easily now, hand over hand. There was a sudden lank. “That’s right. Hold the jib out to starboard till she pays off. That’ll do. Let draw. Haul in your jib sheet, A.B. Titty.”
They were off. The boom had swung across, the mainsail had filled and the Goblin was sailing. Susan, at the tiller, was steering out to clear the Shotley piers, past which the tide was carrying them. Jim, wiping the mud off his hands on the wet mop, raced aft, cast off the mainsheet and pushed the boom out by hand.
“Not enough wind,” he said.
“But we’re moving,” said Titty.
“Mostly tide,” said Jim. “Look at the mainsheet.”
The boom was swinging in again, and the mainsheet hung in loops, dragging in the water. There was not wind enough to pull it straight. Still, the Goblin had steerage way, and the tide was helping her, sweeping down towards the harbour.
