“We’ll take her to the old landing-place,” said Captain John. “That’s a good place for landing a cargo, and we want the wood handy for the camp.”
“It would be a dreadful business carrying it all the way from the harbour,” said the mate.
So Swallow was carefully sculled up the lake to the island, and beached at the old landing-place. Titty and Roger had pulled off their shoes and stockings before they arrived there, and two pairs of shoes and two pairs of rolled-up stockings went flying ashore as soon as the ship touched the ground. A moment later the whole ship’s company was in the water, pulling up the ship and discharging her cargo. The mate settled down to make a neat stack of the wood like the long piles they had seen by the wigwam of the charcoal-burners. Titty’s tree was laid aside to be broken up later. Then, when all the sizeable sticks had been taken out, Captain John went aboard the Swallow to pick up all the small bits and chips and broken twigs and dead leaves that were lying all over the bottom boards. It is surprising what a mess a ship is in after carrying a cargo of any kind, and small firewood is as untidy a cargo as you can have. It was a long time before Swallow looked as neat and trim as she had done when they had rowed away that morning. When at last there was not a dead leaf or a twig as big as a match to be seen in her, John pushed her off, and paddled her round to the harbour. He took the mast from where it had been hidden in the bushes, and stepped it again. He put the sails aboard, and tried the halyards to see that the traveller on the mast was working properly. It would never do for the wind to get up and the Swallow not to be ready to put to sea at a moment’s notice. Then he walked through the trees to join his crew at the other end of the island.
They had already stacked the wood, and close beside the fireplace Susan had heaped up a lot of pieces of turf.
“What’s that for?”