“It’s a perfect harbour,” said John. “Shall we blow the whistle for the others?”
He blew the whistle as loud as he could. He put the oars neatly in their place, and climbed ashore with the painter. Titty was already ashore, and was struggling through the hazels to meet the others. Presently they came.
“Well,” said Captain John, “what about this for a harbour?”
“However was it that we never saw it when we sailed past?” said Susan.
“The rocks go so far out.”
“No one will find her in here,” said Susan.
“And if we are overpowered by enemies we could escape here,” said Titty. “You can’t see it from anywhere, even from the island. It’s the finest harbour anybody ever had.”
“We can fasten the painter to that stump of a tree,” said Captain John, “and then take a line from her stern to that bush on the rock and then we can keep her afloat. Far better than hauling her half out of the water.”
“May I tie her up?” said Roger.
John gave him the painter.
“What did you put the cross on the tree for?” said Roger.
“What cross?” said John.
“This one.”
Nearly at the top of the tree stump, which was about four feet high, a white cross had been painted on the side nearest to the water. It had been