“What about dinner?” said Roger.
“If it’s going to be war tomorrow,” said Mate Susan to Captain Flint, “would you like to stop and have dinner with us today? I’ll put the kettle on at once.”
“There’s nothing I should like better,” he said. “I seem to be in the middle of an enemy camp …”
“Bang in the middle of it,” said Nancy.
“But it’s such a good one that I’d almost like to join you altogether.”
“Too late,” said Nancy. “They’re going in two days. So are we. You’re not the least use now except as an enemy. But we don’t mind letting you be that, if you really want to be one of us again.”
“Three o’clock tomorrow, and the scuppers will be red with blood,” said Captain Flint. “But I suppose you don’t mind my stopping to dinner today.”
“Not a bit,” said Nancy. “The mate’s invited you. And there’s lots to eat. We brought a plum pudding to cut up in pieces, and fry. Most luscious. Cook gave it us. And then afterwards we found a cold tongue. It had hardly been touched, so we brought it too. But we came away rather privately because we thought we might be stopped, and so we went and forgot the grog.”
“I’ll have the kettle boiling in a minute,” said Susan. “You bring the plates out, Titty. Pick out some of the best potatoes, Roger, and we’ll bake them. There’s lots of hot ashes at the edge of the fire.”
“Come on, Peggy, and we’ll bring our stores into camp,” said Captain Nancy.