“Seven,” said Titty. “You’ve forgotten my parrot. He said ‘Pretty Polly’ at the lightning and ‘Pieces of eight’ when it thundered.”
“Seven,” said Captain Flint. “And two of the tents gone, I see. I was afraid they would. It was a wild go while it lasted. It was tough work bucketing into it even now, though the wind’s dropped and the lake’s nothing to what it was. It settles very quickly.”
Then came mother from Holly Howe, rowed by that powerful native, Mr. Jackson. She had brought three big thermos flasks full of boiling cocoa.
“Good morning, Mrs. Dixon,” she said. “That was very kind of you, to think of coming across. I was afraid they’d not be able to get their fire lit.”
“It’s a wonder they have,” said Mrs. Dixon.
“We haven’t been able to boil a kettle yet,” said Susan. “We couldn’t have lit it at all if Nancy hadn’t thought of keeping some sticks dry.”
“And you are the Amazons?” said mother, looking at Nancy and Peggy.
“Yes,” said Nancy, “and this is Captain Flint. His other name is Turner.”
“How do you do?” said mother, and Captain Flint said how sorry he was he had not made friends with the Swallows before. “You don’t know how much I owe to these children,” he said.
“Children!” snorted Nancy Blackett.
“Explorers and pirates,” Captain Flint corrected himself. “If it hadn’t been for them I should have lost all the work I’ve done this summer.”
“I heard something about it last night from Mrs. Jackson,” said mother. “I’m sure I’m very glad they’ve been of some use. Their father seems to