there was a fine white flag with a blue swallow flying across it, and it looked the same from both sides. Then she had fastened it on the little wire flagstaff where the blue flag had been, so that it was ready to hoist to the masthead.
Captain John and the mate were getting together the really important stores and deciding what they could do without. The list had grown very much last night after supper. Roger was kept busy running up and down to the boathouse with all sorts of things that everybody agreed could not be left behind.
The mate’s chief task was fitting out the galley, with the help of Mrs. Jackson, the farmer’s wife, who was lending the things.
“You’ll want a kettle first and foremost,” said Mrs. Jackson.
“And a saucepan and a frying-pan,” said Mate Susan, looking at her list. “I’m best at buttered eggs.”
“And are you really?” said Mrs. Jackson. “Most folk are best at boiled.”
“Oh, well, I don’t count boiled,” said Susan.
Then there were the knives and forks and plates and mugs and spoons to be thought of, and biscuit tins, big ones to keep the food in, and smaller tins for tea and salt and sugar.
“We’ll want rather a big one for sugar, won’t we?” said Roger, who had come in and was waiting for something else to carry down to the boathouse.
“You won’t bake, I don’t suppose,” said Mrs. Jackson.
“I think not,” said Mate Susan.