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After they had finished the eggs and the rice pudding and the brown bread and butter and the seed cake and the apples, the mate and the able-seaman did some washing up. The spoons had to be cleaned and the frying-pan scraped, and the mugs and pudding-basin swilled in the lake. The captain and the boy took the telescope, and found a good place on the high ground above the camp at the northern end of the island, where they could lie in a hollow of the rocks and look out between tufts of heather without being seen by anyone. Close behind them was the tall pine tree that they had seen when they looked at the island from the Peak in Darien.

Captain John lay on his back in the heather, and looked up into the tree.

“Properly,” he said, “we ought to have a flagstaff on the top of it.”

“What for?” said Roger.

“So that we could hoist a flag there as a signal. Supposing Susan and Titty were here alone, while you and I had gone fishing . . .”

“We’ve forgotten our fishing rods,” said Roger.

“We’ll get them to-morrow,” said John. “But supposing we were away fishing, and the natives came back, the ones that made the fireplace, then if we saw the flag hoisted we should know something was the matter, and come back to help. And it would make a fine lighthouse too. If any of us were sailing home after dark, whoever was left on the island could hoist the lantern, and make the tree into a lighthouse, so that we could find the island however dark it was.”

“But Susan and Titty and I could never climb the tree. It’s got no sticky-out branches.”

Like most pines, the tree was bare of branches for the first fifteen or twenty feet of its height.

“If I can swarm up it as far as the bottom branch I could hang a rope over it so that both ends came to the ground. Then no one would have to climb it again. Anybody could tie the lantern to the rope and pull it up. One end would have to be tied to the ring on the top of the lantern, and the other to the bottom so that we could pull it either up or down, and keep it from swinging about.”

“Have we got enough rope?” said Roger.

“We haven’t any small enough. The anchor rope is much too thick, and the spare rope isn’t long enough. I’ll have to get some small rope to-morrow. It’s a good thing I had a birthday just before we came here. We can get plenty of rope with five shillings.”

Just then Mate Susan and Able-seaman Titty joined them, and threw themselves down in the heather.

“Everything’s ready for the night,” said Susan, “except the beds, and we can’t make them till the native brings the haybags.”

Titty jumped up. “There’s a boat coming now,” she said. “Roger, you must be sleepy, or you’d have seen it.”

“I’m not sleepy,” said Roger. “I wasn’t looking. You can be wide awake, and not see a thing when you aren’t looking.”

Captain John sat up, and put the telescope to his eye.

“It is the native,” he said, “and he’s got mother with him.”

“Do let me have the telescope,” said Titty. John gave it her, and she stared through it.

“Mother is a native too,” she said at last.

“Let me have it,” said Roger.

He fixed the telescope to his eye, and pointed it the right way.

“I can’t see anything at all,” he said. “It’s all black.”

“You’ve got the cover over the eye-place,” said Titty, who knew all about telescopes. “Twist it round, and it’ll come open again.”

“I can see them now,” said Roger.

The native, who was Mr. Jackson from the Holly Howe Farm, was rowing his boat with long steady strokes. It looked like a water spider far away. But through the telescope it was easy to see that it was a boat, and to see the big lumps of the haybags and to see that mother was sitting in the stern.

Roger and Titty took turns with the telescope as the boat came nearer. The captain and the mate went down to the camp to make sure that everything was ready to show the visitors. The captain put his tin box, the big one, against the back of his tent in the middle. He took the little barometer out of it and hung it on the fastener in front of the box. There was nothing else in that tent, so that it was very neat indeed. Titty and the mate had made their tent much more home-like. In the middle of it were the biscuit tins, with the food in them. These tins made two seats. Then at each side of the tent, where their beds were going to be, they had spread out their blankets and folded in the tops of them. The cooking things were neatly arranged in one corner, just inside the tent. Outside the tent, on the rope on which the tent was hung, two towels were drying. Captain John looked in and then went back to his own tent and spread his and Roger’s blankets in the same way. They certainly made the tent look more as if it had been lived in. And, after all, it would be no bother to put the haybags under them when they came. Mate Susan put a few more sticks on the fire, to make a cheerful blaze. Then they went back to the others.

“The natives will soon be here,” said Titty. “Shall we show them the harbour?”

“No,” said Captain John, “you never know with natives, even friendly ones. We’ll keep Swallow hid. It isn’t as if mother were by herself.”

“Besides,” said Susan, “they are bringing the haybags, and the landing-place is close to the camp. It’ll be much easier to carry them from there than through the thicket at the low end of the island.”

All the crew of the Swallow stood up and pointed to the east. Mother, the female native in the stern of the rowing boat, pointed between the island and the mainland on the eastern side, to show that she knew what they meant. She said something to the native at the oars, and he glanced over his shoulder, and, pulling strongly with his left for a stroke or two, altered his course.

They were passing the head of the island. Roger had already run to the landing-place. The others of the Swallow were close behind him and when the native ran his boat ashore, the whole ship’s company were on the beach, ready to help him to pull the boat up.

“But what have you done with your ship?” asked mother. “Where is the Swallow?”

“Allawallacallacacuklacaowlacaculla,” said Titty. “That means that we can’t possibly tell you because you’re a native . . . a nice native, of course.”

“Burroborromjeeboomding,” said mother. “That means that I don’t care where she is so long as she is all right.”

“She’s in a splendid place,” said Captain John.

“Shall I interpret for you?” said Titty gently.

“As a matter of fact,” said mother, the female native, “I’ve picked up quite a lot of English what with talking to you, but I’ll wallacallawalla instead if you’d rather I did.”

“If you know English there’s no need,” said John.

“Glook,” said the female native. “That means, all right. Now I hope you are going to let the natives see your camp, so that we can help to carry up the haybags.”

Mr. Jackson, the farmer from Holly Howe, had taken all four haybags out of the boat. He was a very powerful, strong native, and he picked up three of the haybags together and hove them up on his shoulders. John and Susan carried the fourth. Roger took the female native by the hand and Titty showed the way to the tents.

“Well, you have got a lovely camp,” said the female native.

“Isn’t it?” said Susan. “Would you like to come inside this tent?”

The female native stooped and went in. Mr. Jackson dumped down his haybags.

“Come on, Roger,” said John, “let’s get our tent all ready before she comes in.”

John took hold of one end of a haybag. Roger helped, and between them they pulled first one and then another haybag into their tent. They put one on each side of the tent, punched them and shook them until they were fairly even and covered them with their folded blankets. Then they lay down, each on his bed.

Meanwhile Susan and the female native were making up the beds in the other tent. Mr. Jackson had gone back to his boat.

Presently the female native put her head into the captain’s tent.

“You look comfortable enough in here,” she said, “but what are you going to do when it gets dark?”

“We ought to have brought two lanterns,” said John. “I forgot about that. We’ve only got the big lantern for the whole camp.”

“I’ve brought you two small candle-lanterns, one for each tent if you will promise to be careful with them and not set the tents or yourselves on fire. Where is the oil for the big lantern?”

“Just outside the tent,” said John.

“You ought to keep it in a safe place well away from the camp and from the fire.”

Just then that powerful native, Mr. Jackson, came back with another load from the boat.

“Come along out,” said the female native. “I am not going to stop here now, because Mr. Jackson must be getting back to his farm. But there are several things to be settled. First of all, about the milk. There are no cows on your island, so you will have to go to the mainland for milk. I have arranged with the farm over there, Dixon’s Farm, to let you have a quart of milk every morning. If you want more in the evening, Mrs. Dixon will let you have it. But every morning you must row over there to bring your milk. You can see their landing-place by the big oak tree. Thank you, Mr. Jackson.”

The powerful native had put down a big basket that he had brought up from the boat. In it was a milk-can and a lot of other things. The female native began taking them out as if she were digging the presents out of a bran pie.

“Here is the milk-can for you,” she said, “and mind you keep the milk as cool as you can during the day. Keep it out of the sun and do remember to wash the can very clean before you take it up to the farm for more. Then, for to-morrow, I’ve brought you a meat pie Mrs. Jackson cooked to-day. You will soon get tired of living on corned beef. . . .”

“Pemmican,” said Titty.

“Pemmican,” said the female native. “So if I were you I should only open a pemmican tin when you haven’t anything else that you can eat without cooking. By the way, Susan is the chief cook, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” said Captain John.

“Then I’ll give the stores over to her. There is the pie. Then I’ve brought a box of Force for breakfast. Susan is going to have a busy time without having to cook porridge in the mornings.”

“I like cooking,” said Mate Susan.

“If you want to go on liking it,” said the female native, “take my advice and make the others do the washing up.”

Mr. Jackson came up again from the boat, carrying a big sack.

“Mrs. Jackson has been good enough to let you have your pillows here,” said the female native. “You can sleep without them, I know, but a pillow makes such a lot of difference that I’m sure Christopher Columbus himself always took his own pillow with him.”

The pillows were taken out and two were taken into each tent.

“Did you see the pirate with the parrot?” asked Titty when she came out after stowing her pillow.

“What pirate?” asked the female native.

“The one on the houseboat. We saw him. And his parrot.”

Mr. Jackson laughed. “So that’s what you call him,” he said. “I dare say you’re right.”

“I saw the houseboat,” said the female native.

“It’s Mr. Turner,” said the powerful native. “He usually lives on the houseboat in summer-time. This year he won’t let anyone go near him. Last year those Blackett girls, nieces of his from the other side of the lake, were always with him. Not this year though. Keeps himself to himself this summer, does Mr. Turner. No one knows what he does there, but they do say he’s got things in that houseboat worth a fortune.”

“That’s his treasure,” said Titty. “I knew he was a retired pirate. Of course he can’t let anybody go near it.”

“Vicky will be wanting me,” said the female native, “so I won’t stay with you. And anyhow you don’t want too many natives about, I’m sure. It’s beginning to get dark and if I were you I should be early to sleep, for the sun will wake you in the morning, even if the birds don’t.”

“Thank you ever so much for bringing the things,” said Susan.

“Specially the lanterns,” said Titty.

“Glook, glook, glook,” said the female native, as she began to walk down to the landing-place. “No, I think I won’t have any tea, thank you. You’ve had yours and day is nearly over. Oh,” she added, “there’s one thing I’d forgotten.” She went for a moment into the captain’s tent and came out again smiling. Then, as she walked down to the boat she said to John, “I’m not going to keep on coming to bother you. . . .”

“You don’t bother us, mother,” said John.

“I’m not going to anyhow, but I’m going to ask you to let me know every two or three days—or oftener if you like—that everything is all right. You’ll be wanting provisions, you know, and we natives can always supply them. So you’ll be calling now and then at Holly Howe, won’t you?”

“I’ll come to-morrow, if you like,” said John.

“Yes, I’d like to know how the first night went.”

“What did you do in my tent just now, mother?” said John.

“You’ll see when you get back.”

The female native stepped into the boat and went to the stern and sat down. Mr. Jackson, that strong native, pushed the big boat off, kneeling on the gunwale of her as she slid away. He had the oars out in a moment and pulled away into the evening.

“Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye, mother,” shouted the Swallow’s crew. “Good-bye, Mr. Jackson.”

“Good night to you,” said Mr. Jackson.

“Drool,” said the female native; “that means good night and sleep well.”

“Drool, drool,” they shouted back.

They ran to the head of the island, to the look-out place under the tall pine and waved as the boat with the natives rowed away into the dusk. Long after they could not see the boat they could see the white flashes as the oars lifted from the water. And long after they could not see them at all, they could hear the sound of rowing, growing fainter and fainter in the distance.

“We’d better be getting to sleep before it’s quite dark,” said Mate Susan.

“Lights out in half an hour,” said Captain John.

“But we haven’t lit our lights yet,” said Roger.

“No, but we’re just going to,” said Captain John, opening his lantern and striking a match. There was still some light outside, though not much under the trees, but in the tents it was quite dark. John lit his lantern and took it into his tent and put it on the tin box, which he moved into the middle so that there should be no danger of setting fire to the tent walls. Then he remembered that the female native had done something in his tent just before she went away. He looked round to see what it was. Pinned to the tent wall near the head of his bed was a scrap of paper. On it was written, “If not duffers won’t drown.”

“Daddy knows we aren’t duffers,” said John to himself.

Susan had put her lantern on one of the two biscuit tins. She and Titty were making their beds comfortable.

The two tents looked like big paper lanterns glowing under the trees. Shadows moved about inside them. It always takes some time to get comfortable on a haybag the first night. There were voices.

“Are you all right, Titty?”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“What about that boy?”

“He’s all right, Mister Mate. Are you ready for Lights out?”

“Yes.”

“Lights out!”

The two lanterns were blown out and the white tents were part of the darkness. There was no light now but the glow of the embers on the camp-fire. “Good night! Good night! Good night!” There was no noise now but the lapping of the lake on the rocks. In a few moments the captain, the mate, the able-seaman, and the boy were fast asleep.