Nancy and John could not hear him, but they could see the tent thrashing about.
Nancy grabbed him by the scruff of the neck as he crawled out and ran him to the Amazons’ tent and pushed him in. “You’ll be dry, anyhow,” she said. Then she went back to Captain John, who had struggled into his flapping tent and brought out the two things that mattered most, the chronometer and the barometer. In one of the lightning flashes he held up the barometer.
“It’s gone down four-tenths,” he shouted.
“Come along into our tent,” shouted Nancy. “Bring the big lantern if you can get it.”
Captain John gave her the barometer and put the chronometer in his pocket. He forced his way once more into the whirling jumble of canvas that had been his tent. He found the lantern and fought his way out again.
“There’s nothing more to be done,” shouted Nancy. “Come on.”
They went into the Amazons’ tent, where the candle lantern was guttering out. John lit the big lantern and put it in the middle of the floor. Nancy hurried out again to slacken the ropes of her tent. Then she came in and closed the flaps of the door.
“Our tent has its back to the wind,” she said. “All the big winds come from the south. That’s why we chose this place for it. The poles at each end help it too. Our tent’ll stand anything.”
“Did you get very wet?” said Mate Susan.
“Rather,” said Captain John.
“I’m soaked,” said Nancy. “Lovely.”