round in the dark,” said Captain Flint. He laughed aloud. “And I told that red-haired boy we were carrying three captains and a couple of mates. That was why he hurried out after us, and turned sharp round and came in again when he met us in the harbour mouth.”
“He thinks you’re bound for Crab Island sure enough,” said Peter Duck.
Captain Flint for a moment seemed hardly to see Peter Duck or the others, crowded together in the little deckhouse. Sitting on the edge of the chart-table, his head bent under the roof, he was seeing things very far away. “It stands to reason,” he said at last, “there’s something in that bag, and if no one’s been there and picked it up, it’s the safest, surest thing in buried treasure that ever I heard of. I crossed the Andes, travelling day and night, on much less of a hint than that.”
The old sailor looked up at Captain Flint, leaning forward to look at him without being dazzled by the lantern.
“I don’t care who digs up that bag so long as Black Jake don’t, “ he said. “But whatever it is it’s best let lie. You don’t want it, not with a tidy little schooner like this fit to take you anywheres. I don’t want it, not with my old wherry that’ll last my time and a bit more.”
Captain Flint looked away, and tapped the tobacco out of his pipe.
“I can’t help thinking it’s wasted on those crabs,” he said. “I don’t wonder Black Jake wants to go and have a look for it.”
“He don’t want to go looking for it,” said Peter Duck. “He wants to walk straight to it on that island, and pick it up. He can’t do that without me. He’ll stick at nothing, will Black Jake. You’ve seen enough to know that. And if you want to have no more trouble, you’d best put me ashore and get another able-seaman for your trip down Channel and you’ll find Black Jake won’t be bothering you at all.”
“No, no! Oh, I say! What!” There was a sudden startled chorus of protest. Captain Flint hit the top of his head on a beam under the deckhouse roof. He took no notice of the bump but spoke at once.
“I thought you said you wanted another voyage?”
“And so I do,” said Peter Duck.
“And the ship and the crew suit you?”
“Couldn’t ask for better.”
“Then stow this talk of leaving us. If we suit you, you suit us. And if you think I’m the sort to leave you ashore because of a scowling, crook-eyed son of a sea-cook with a fancy for gold ear-rings, you’re mistaken.”
“That’s the stuff, Captain Flint,” said Nancy delightedly.
“Of course you mustn’t go,” said Roger.
“Mr. Duck!” said Titty.
“We’ll sail tomorrow, Mr. Duck,” said Captain Flint, “and if your Black Jake is fool enough to follow us, we’ll lead him a bit of a dance.”
“He’ll follow, sure enough,” said Peter Duck.
“Let him,” said Captain Flint. “Anyway, we’ll sail. And you’ll sail with us. Below decks, you others! Below decks and into your bunks and sharp about it. We’re sailing first thing.”
“But what about the anchor?” asked John.
“It’ll be clean enough by now,” said Peter Duck.
“Man the capstan then,” said Captain Flint. “Man the capstan and heave it up, and then below decks without waiting another minute.”
He took the lantern, and the whole ship’s company went forward along the dark deck. There was silence in the harbour. They peered across at the Viper, but all was dark where she lay. The capstan bars were ranged handy along the bulwarks, and in a minute the Swallows and Amazons, all six of them, had fitted their bars into the slots in the capstan head, and, walking steadily round and round, were walking the anchor up as if it were a feather. It is astonishing what six people, even small ones, can lift with a capstan, all working together.
Captain Flint flashed a pocket torch over the side. The anchor had come up clean. The dinghy’s painter must have slipped off it before.
There was a sudden squawk of annoyance in the darkness.
“I’d forgotten all about him,” said Titty, rather ashamed.
The parrot had fallen asleep, perched on the bulwarks, and was not pleased to be waked. Titty picked him up and took him down with her into the saloon and put him into his cage for the night. Roger was nearly as sleepy as the parrot. But the others were for some time too full of talk to sleep. They undressed, talking. And, when they were in their bunks, they talked still from one cabin to another. Treasure. Black Jake. Crabs. Peter Duck. That red-haired boy who was sailing with Black Jake. They had enough to talk about.
And then, long after they had stopped getting answers from each other when they spoke, long after they had stopped talking and fallen asleep, they woke again, listening to steps going to and fro overhead, along the Wild Cat’s decks.
“It’s Mr. Duck,” said Susan quietly.
“Yes,” said Titty. “It was Captain Flint before. I heard him tapping his pipe.”
“They must think Black Jake may come again in the night,” said John.
“Keeping watch,” said Titty.
“Who?” A voice came now from the Amazons’ cabin.
“Mr. Duck and Captain Flint,” whispered Susan. “Listen.”
“Let’s all go up and help,” said Nancy.
“No, no,” said Peggy. “Stop here.”
“What’s happening now?” This was Roger’s squeak in the dark.
“Nothing. Go to sleep,” said Susan. “We all ought to,” she added. “If they want help they’ll thump on the deck for us, or call down through the skylight.”
They slept again.
But all night long, watch and watch about, Captain Flint and Peter Duck walked up and down above their sleeping crew.
* The samson-post is a very strong post that goes right through the deck and down to the keel. – NANCY.
* Not to be confounded with the much larger Crab Island east of Porto Rico.
* A quant is a long pole for poling (“quanting”) a wherry along when there is no wind to help her or where the Channel is too narrow for sailing against the wind.
CHAPTER VII
OUTWARD BOUND
“HULLO! What’s happening?” Nancy was the first to wake as a heavy warp slapped on the deck above her head.
“My engine’s going,” said Roger half-asleep. He woke,
