carry. It lay there, ready for picking up. There was no need to look for it, and soon the pile of firewood was growing much faster than Susan used it up for the boiling of her kettle.
It was very hot, and the smoke of the fire went straight up. Even so some of it got into her eyes, and the sharp smell of it got into her nose and mouth. But it was not such hot work boiling the kettle as it was gathering firewood, and presently Roger said, “It must be boiling now.” Titty threw a bundle of firewood on the growing pile. “It’s boiling now, isn’t it?” she said. “I’m too hot to gather any more.”
“It’ll change its tune in a minute,” said the mate.
“Like the cuckoo,” said Titty, “except that kettles change their tune as soon as they boil, and don’t wait till June.”
Just then the kettle did change its tune. Susan blew her whistle to let Captain John know that grub was ready. “Sit down, you fo’c’sle hands,” she said to the able-seaman and the boy. They sat down. Captain John came back, very hot, with a huge bundle of firewood on his back. He had doubled a long piece of string and brought it round the sticks to keep them together.
After dinner they went on gathering firewood. The captain and the able-seaman and the boy gathered it, and Susan sorted it and packed it in Swallow . It is always the mate’s business to see to the stowage of cargo. Presently, when they had gathered all the best firewood on that stretch of beach, they embarked, and rowed along the shore and brought her in again in a bay, the shores of which were brown with dry sticks. Swallow was soon so full of firewood that there was hardly room for her crew.
“She won’t hold much more,” said the mate.
“She’s down to her load line already,” said the captain.