“Aye,” said Mrs. Dixon, “we all think that when we’re young.”
Mr. Dixon, who was waiting down by the boat, had said “Good morning,” when he came, and now he said “Good day to you,” as he rowed Mrs. Dixon away. He was always a very silent native.
The others were not. They talked and talked, all native talk, about the storm and the burglary. Sometimes they asked questions which the Amazons found a little difficult to answer, though Captain Flint helped them out. Even Mr. Jackson, the powerful strong native from Holly Howe, wanted to know exactly how the Swallows had found the box.
At last the native talk began to slacken.
“What about packing up?” said Mrs. Blackett to the Amazons. “You can put everything in the launch, and come in it with me, and we can tow the Amazon .”
“Tow Amazon !” said Nancy in horror. “We’re coming home under sail. We want no salvage.”
“Everything’s so wet here,” said the mother of the Swallows. “You’d better come back with me to Holly Howe.”
“Not now,” begged Titty. “We’re quite dry, and we’ve got a whole tin of pemmican left, and lots of bunloaf, and it’s our last day.”
It would have been very dreadful to be swept home in a flood of natives, even of the nicest sort. Half the pleasure of visiting distant countries is sailing home afterwards. Besides, she had to say goodbye to the island. John, Susan, and Roger also begged to be allowed to stay. Nancy and Peggy flatly refused to go.
“What if it comes on to blow again?” said the Swallows’ mother.
Here Captain Flint spoke.