Island Life
The next day was a busy one. It began early. Sunshine in a tent is even more waking than sunshine in a room. Titty woke first and lay awake looking at patches of sunlight and shadow playing on the white walls of the tent as the sun came through the waving tops of the trees. Then she crawled to the door of the tent and put her head out, sniffing the damp morning air and listening to the rustling of the leaves and the noise of ripples on the island shore. Then she heard voices in the other tent. They were waking up there, too. “John.” “Yes.” “We’re on the island.” “Of course we are. Didn’t you know.” “Not till I was properly awake.”
“Hullo,” called Titty. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” “Good morning.”
John and Roger crawled to the door of their tent.
“Where’s Susan?” said Roger.
“Still asleep.”
“No, she isn’t,” said Susan, rolling over on her haybag and rubbing her eyes. “What time is it? Is it time to fetch the milk?”
John disappeared to look at his watch, which was now called a chronometer because John was the master of a ship.
“Three minutes to seven,” he said. He had thought of putting it into ship’s time, but it would have taken him a moment or two to be sure what it was.