“Let’s go and row round him and shout, ‘Death to Captain Flint,’ ” said Titty, “that’ll show him what we think of him.”
“We were doing nothing to him at all,” said John. “We were even bringing a message for him from the charcoal-burners … the one they gave us for the Amazons. I wish there was a wind. We can’t go to them and they can’t come to us. I don’t know what we ought to do.”
He read the letter again. Then Susan and Titty read it.
“He doesn’t even sign his real name,” said Titty. “That shows he’s up to no good.” She ran into the other tent and came out with a pencil. “Let’s put his proper name on it,” she said. Susan gave her the letter and Titty wrote after the words “James Turner” “Captain Flint” in even larger letters.
“We can’t do anything about it now,” said Captain John gloomily. “Let’s bathe.”
In two minutes all Swallow ’s ship’s company were splashing about by the landing-place. Captain Flint’s letter was forgotten in the water, but Captain John remembered it long before he was dry. He hardly listened at supper while the others were talking of the snake and the charcoal-burners. Last thing at night he went up to the lookout station. The sun set in a clear sky behind the sharp edges of the western hills. The stars as they came out were reflected in still water. There was not a sign of wind. He went down to the camp, undressed and wriggled into the blankets on his haybag. Roger in the blankets on the other haybag was already asleep. John heard Susan say, “Half a minute before lights out. I want to damp the earth over my fire.” He heard the hiss of water on hot ashes. He heard Susan come back into her tent. “Ready now,” she called. “Right. Good night. Lights out,” he replied, and blew out his lantern. For a long time he could not sleep, and when at last he did disturbing thoughts of Captain Flint bothered him even in his dreams.