“All right, Roger,” said John, “it’s only thunder.”
“Where are you going, Nancy?” said Peggy. At hearing the first drops of rain, Nancy was up and lighting their lantern.
“To bring some firewood in, of course,” said Nancy. “Don’t you remember the last time it rained and all the wood got wet and we couldn’t get our fire to light.”
She was back in a moment with a bundle of sticks from the pile.
“It’s not raining much yet,” she said, “but it’s going to.”
She wriggled back into her sleeping-bag.
There was another flash of lightning that lit the tents and threw leaping shadows on their white walls from the branches of the trees overhead.
“Never mind, Polly,” said Titty, “it’ll soon be over.”
“Pretty Polly,” said the parrot, now thoroughly awake.
One flash followed another and then there were three tremendous crashes of thunder and a lot of little ones as if the sky were breaking into solid bits and rattling down a steep iron roof.
“There’s a broadside for you,” called Nancy Blackett from her tent.
“Pieces of eight,” said the parrot, and then, perhaps thinking of palm trees again, gave a long wild shriek.
“Would you like me to put your cloth over you?” said Titty.
“What time is it, John?” called Susan.
“Four bells of the middle watch,” said Captain John, who had looked at the chronometer with his pocket torch and had just put it into ship’s