“What?” said Susan.
“Where is the top light?” asked Captain John.
“A bit to the left of the low one,” said Susan.
John pulled a stroke or two, pulling a little harder with his right. “Sing out as soon as it is just above it.”
“It’s above it now. Now it’s a bit to the right of it.”
John pulled his left.
“Above it.”
“Tell me the moment it is one side or the other.”
He rowed on. Mate Susan, Able-seaman Titty, and the Boy Roger watched the lights and sang out the moment the top one showed a little to left or right of the lower one. With so many lookout men Captain John might have been content, but just once he looked round for himself and saw the two lights one above the other like the stop called a colon, which I am just going to make : there, like that. At last John just grazed a rock with his starboard oar.
“We must be close in now,” he said. “I’m going to scull over the stern.”
“The lights are exactly one above another,” said Susan.
John had shipped his oars and was now sculling over the stern. Susan and Titty had wriggled out of the way. The boat moved on in the darkness.
“The lights are quite close to us,” said Roger, and as he said it there was a gentle scrunch as the Swallow ’s nose touched the soft, pebbly beach of the little harbour.