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Susan was ashore next. Then Titty with her basket of crockery. John stayed in the Swallow to hand out the stores. First went the loose cooking things that had been tucked in anywhere. Then went the two tents, each rolled in its ground-sheet, then the biscuit tins, and then the heavy tin box with the books and barometer and the things that had to be kept dry. That lightened the ship, and Mate Susan and the able-seaman pulled her a little further up, which made it easier to bring ashore the big sacks full of rugs and blankets. Everything was piled together on the dry pebbly beach.

“Now, Mister Mate,” said Captain John, “let’s go and explore.”

“The first thing to do,” said Susan, “is to find the best place for our camp.”

“Not too easily seen from anywhere,” said Titty.

“We want a flat bit of ground with trees to hold the tents up,” said John.

“And a good place for a fire,” said Susan.

“Is it safe to leave the things here?” said Titty. “There might be a tidal wave, forty feet high, washing over everything.”

“Not as big as that,” said John. “That would cover the island.”

“Hullo, where’s that boy?” said the mate. The Boy Roger was exploring already. Just then he shouted from close to them, behind some bushes.

“Someone’s had a fire here before.”

The others ran up from the little beach. Between the landing-place and the high part of the island where the big pine tree was, there was a round, open space of mossy ground. There were trees round the edge of it, and in the middle of it there was a round place where the turf had been scraped away. Roger was there, looking at a neat ring of stones, making a fireplace with the ashes of an old fire in it. At opposite sides of the ring two stout forked sticks had been driven into the ground and built round with heavy stones, and another long stick was lying across the fireplace in the forks of the two upright sticks, so that a kettle could be hung on it over the fire. Close by the fireplace there was a neat pile of dry sticks all broken to about the same length. Someone had had a fire here, and someone was meaning to have a fire again.

“Natives,” said Titty.

“Perhaps they are still here,” said Roger.

“Come on,” said Captain John. “We’ll go all over it.”

There was really not very much of the island to explore. It did not take the crew of the Swallow very long to make sure that, though someone had been on the island sometime, there was nobody but themselves on the island to-day. They went up to the northern end of the island, and looked out over the lake from the high part of the island by the big tree. Then they went to the southern part of the island, but found it rocky and covered with heather and small stunted bushes, growing so thickly that it was not easy to push one’s way through them. There were trees, too, but not so tall as those at the northern end. But there were no signs of human beings, and no place where it would be safe to have a fire. They came back to the fireplace.

“The natives knew how to choose the right place,” said Susan, “and it’s a fine fireplace.”

“There are no natives on the island now,” said Roger.

“They may have been killed and eaten by other natives,” said Titty.

“Anyhow, this is the best place for a camp,” said John. “Let’s put the tents up at once.”

So they set about making their camp. They brought the tent bundles up from the landing-place and unrolled them. They chose four trees on the side of the fireplace nearest to the big pine. “The high ground will shelter them from the north,” said John. Then he climbed about seven feet up the trunk of a tree, and fastened one end of one of the tent ropes. Susan held the other end until he had climbed up another tree, when he fastened it at about the same height. The rope, of course, sagged in the middle, so that the tent was only about five feet high. The rope was not made too taut, because the dew at night would make it shrink. The tent now hung down on both sides of the rope like a sheet put to dry. The next thing to do was to fill its pockets with stones. As soon as there were a few stones in the pockets that were at the bottom of each side of the tent, it was easy to keep the walls apart. But to make sure that the tent was firmly set up they carried a great many stones from the beach, besides the stones they picked up under the trees, so that all round the two sides and back of the tent there was a row of stones in the pockets keeping the tent walls properly stretched.

“It’s a good thing mother made this sort of tent,” said Susan. “The rock is close under the ground everywhere, and we could never have driven any pegs in.”

The next thing was to drag the ground-sheet into the tent and spread it. As soon as that was done, they all crowded in.

“Good,” said Susan. “You can just see the fireplace from inside.”

The second tent was set up in the same way, and then all the rest of the stores were brought up from the beach. Mate Susan began to think about dinner. Able-seaman Titty and the Boy Roger were sent to gather firewood. There were a lot of dry branches scattered about under the trees. Somehow, no one wanted to use the neat little pile of wood that had been left by the last users of the fireplace. And really there was no need. Presently a fire was burning in the blackened ring of stones. Susan found a place by the landing beach where it was easy to stand on two rocks and dip a kettle full of clean water. She came back with the kettle, and slung it on the cross stick over the fire.

“Everything is all right,” said Captain John, “except the landing-place. Everybody can see it from the mainland, and if it comes on to blow from the east it’s a very bad place for the Swallow. I’m going to look for a better place.”

“There isn’t one,” said Susan. “We’ve sailed all round.”

“I’m going to have another look, anyway,” said Captain John.

“But we’ve just been all over the island,” said Susan.

“We didn’t go to the very end of it,” said John.

“But it’s all rocks there,” said Susan.

“Well, I’m going to look,” said Captain John, and leaving the mate and the crew to their cooking, he went off to the southern end of the island.

He knew there was nothing that would do for a harbour on the north end of the island, or on the west, because there the rock dropped down like a wall of stone into the water. On the eastern side, except for the landing-place, it was much the same. But there was just a chance that he might find what he wanted at the south end where the island broke up into smaller islands, bare rocks sticking up out of the water, some of them lying so far out that he had not thought it was safe to come very near when they had been sailing round in Swallow.

He took the easiest way through the undergrowth and the small trees. Almost it seemed to him that someone had been that way before. He walked straight into the thing he was looking for. He had been within a yard or two of seeing it when they had first explored the island. Yet it was so well hidden that he had turned back without seeing it. This time he almost fell into it. It was a little strip of beach curving round a tiny bay at the end of the island. A thick growth of hazels overhung it, and hid it from anyone who had not actually pushed his way through them. Beyond it the south-west corner of the island ran out nearly twenty yards into the water, a narrow rock seven or eight feet high, rising higher and then dropping gradually. Rocks sheltered it also from the south-east. There was a big rock that was part of the island, and then a chain of smaller ones beyond it. It was no wonder that they had thought that there was nothing but rocks there when they had sailed past outside.

“It may be only a puddle with no way into it,” said John to himself.

He climbed out on the top of the big rock. There was heather on the top of this rock, and John crawled out on it, looking down into the little pool below him. Further out on the far side of the pool he could see that there were big stones under water, but on this side it seemed clear. The water in there was perfectly smooth, because it was sheltered by the island itself from the wind which was still blowing lightly from the north-west. It looked as if you could bring a boat in from outside through a narrow channel between the rocks, but of course under water there might be rocks out there which he could not see.

He climbed back and hurried to the camp.

“I’ve found the very place,” he shouted. “At least I think I have.”

“Found what?” said Susan.

“A real harbour for Swallow. I don’t know yet. I’m going to take her round to see if there is a way in. Will you come?”

“Can’t leave the cooking,” said Susan.

“Well, I must have one of the crew,” said John. “Can you spare the able-seaman?”

“Go along, Titty,” said the mate.

“Me too,” said Roger.

“Only one,” said John; “but if we get her in, we’ll whistle. Then you can come. Will you lend me your whistle, Mister Mate?”

Susan gave him her whistle, and John and Titty hurried off to the landing-place, and launched Swallow.

“I’ll row her round,” he said. “It’s no good putting the sail up just to take it down again.”

Titty sat in the stern while he rowed. Swallow was a hard boat to row, because of her keel and the ballast that made her so good a boat to sail. But very soon they had passed the end of the island. John rowed her round outside the furthest of the rocks.

“Now,” he said, “we’ll try to go in. I’ll paddle her in sculling over the stern, and you go forward with the other oar ready to fend off if there are rocks under water.”

“I’d better get in front of the mast, like Roger does,” said Titty.

“All right, if there’s room.”

In the stern of Swallow there was a half-circle cut out of the transom, like a bite out of the edge of a bit of bread and butter. There was just room for an oar to lie loosely in it, so that the boat could be moved along by one oar worked from side to side, and twisted this way and that so that it always pushes against the water. A lot of people do not know how to scull over the stern of a boat, but it is easy enough if you do know, and John had been taught by his father long ago in Falmouth harbour.

FEELING THEIR WAY IN

The only trouble is that the nose of the boat waggles a bit from side to side.

Captain John unshipped the rudder, and put it in the bottom of the boat. Then he began sculling over the stern, gently, enough to make Swallow move slowly in towards the lines of rocks. Titty, with the other oar, was ready in the bows.

“There are rocks on each side under water,” said Titty.

“Sing out if there are any right ahead,” said John. “Don’t let her bump one if you can help it.”

He sculled on. Slowly Swallow moved in among rocks awash. Then, besides the rocks awash, there were rocks showing above water. These grew bigger. Then there were high rocks that hid the eastern side of the lake, while the western side was hidden by a long rocky point sticking out from the island. It was almost like being between two walls. Remembering what he had seen when he had climbed out on the big rock above the pool, John kept the Swallow as near as he could to the eastern wall, Titty with her oar fending off when the rock seemed too close. If they had been rowing in the ordinary way their oars would have touched the rocks on either side. Still Swallow moved on with the water clear under her keel.

At last the green trees were close ahead, and Swallow was safe in the pool and ran her nose up the beach in the tiny bay, sheltered by the trees from the north, and by the walls of rock from any other wind.

“What a place,” said the able-seaman. “I expect somebody hid on the island hundreds of years ago, and kept his boat here.”

“It’s a perfect harbour,” said John. “Shall we blow the whistle for the others?”

He blew the whistle as loud as he could. He put the oars neatly in their place, and climbed ashore with the painter. Titty was already ashore, and was struggling through the hazels to meet the others. Presently they came.

“Well,” said Captain John, “what about this for a harbour?”

“However was it that we never saw it when we sailed past?” said Susan.

“The rocks go so far out.”

“No one will find her in here,” said Susan.

“And if we are overpowered by enemies we could escape here,” said Titty. “You can’t see it from anywhere, even from the island. It’s the finest harbour anybody ever had.”

“We can fasten the painter to that stump of a tree,” said Captain John, “and then take a line from her stern to that bush on the rock and then we can keep her afloat. Far better than hauling her half out of the water.”

“May I tie her up?” said Roger.

John gave him the painter.

“What did you put the cross on the tree for?” said Roger.

“What cross?” said John.

“This one.”

Nearly at the top of the tree stump, which was about four feet high, a white cross had been painted on the side nearest to the water. It had been painted some time ago, and had faded, and neither John nor Titty had noticed it. They had been thinking of rocks more than of trees.

“I didn’t put it there,” said John. “It must have been there already.”

“Natives again,” said Titty sadly. “That means that somebody else knows even about the harbour.”

“I expect it’s the same people who made the fireplace,” said Susan.

At this moment Mate Susan remembered that she was also cook.

“The kettle will be boiling,” she cried. “It’ll be putting the fire out. And I had the eggs just ready when you whistled.”

She ran off back to the camp.

The others pushed off Swallow till she floated. Captain John fastened one end of a length of spare rope to a cleat in the stern, and Able-seaman Titty climbed out on the rock with the other end of it. Roger held the painter. Then John came ashore. Titty pulled in on the stern rope and made it fast round a little rowan bush that was growing on the rock. Roger and John made the painter fast round the stump with the white cross on it, and the Swallow lay in the middle of the little harbour in two or three feet of water, moored fore and aft, and sheltered on every side.

Captain John looked at his ship with pride.

“I don’t believe there is a better harbour in the world,” he said.

“If only somebody else didn’t know about it,” said Titty.

Then they hurried back to the camp.

The camp now began to look really like a camp. There were the two tents slung between the two pairs of trees. The mate and the able-seaman were to sleep in one, and the captain and the boy in the other. Then in the open space under the trees the fire was burning merrily. The kettle had boiled, and was standing steaming on the ground. Susan was melting a big pat of butter in the frying-pan. In a pudding-basin beside her she had six raw eggs. She had cracked the eggs on the edge of a mug and broken them into the basin. Their empty shells were crackling in the fire. Four mugs stood in a row on the ground.

“No plates to-day,” said Mate Susan. “We all eat out of the common dish.”

“But it isn’t a common dish,” said Roger. “It’s a frying-pan.”

“Well, we eat out of it anyway. Egg’s awful stuff for sticking to plates.”

She had now emptied the raw eggs into the sizzling butter, and was stirring the eggs and the butter together after shaking the pepper pot over them, and putting in a lot of salt.

“They’re beginning to curdle,” said Titty, who was watching carefully. “When they begin to flake, you have to keep scraping them off the bottom of the pan. I saw Mrs. Jackson do it.”

“They’re flaking now,” said Susan. “Come on and scrape away.”

She put the frying-pan on the ground, and gave every one a spoon. The captain, mate, and crew of the Swallow squatted round the frying-pan, and began eating as soon as the scrambled eggs, which were very hot, would let them. Mate Susan had already cut four huge slices of brown bread and butter to eat with the eggs. Then she poured out four mugs of tea, and filled them with milk from a bottle. “There’ll be enough milk in the bottle for to-day,” mother had said, “but for to-morrow we must try to find you milk from a farm a little nearer than Holly Howe.” Then there was a big rice pudding, which had been brought with them on the top of the things in one of the big biscuit tins. It too became a common dish, like the frying-pan. Then there were four big slabs of seed cake. Then there were apples all round.