“What are you doing?” he shouted to them.
“Diving for pearls.”
“Don’t stay in too long. No breakfast for anybody who isn’t dry and dressed by the time I’m back with the milk.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Titty.
Roger tried to say “Aye, aye, sir,” with his mouth under water. He failed.
He could not open his eyes under water either with any ease, and, splashing about in two or three feet of water, he picked up his pearls by feeling for them. Able-seaman Titty swam about on the bottom with her eyes open, looking for the whitest stones. They were all rather big for pearls, but no one really minds a pearl being big, and soon the pearl-divers had a pile of wet and shining jewels by the waterside. The worst of it was that as soon as the stones were dry—and they dried quickly in the sun—they stopped shining, and could not be counted as pearls any more.
Pearl-diving came to an end as soon as the divers saw Captain John coming laden down the field from Dixon’s Farm. There was a sudden splashing rush for the shore, and towels, and long before Captain John came rowing in in Swallow , his crew, dry and dressed, were waiting for him on the beach. There was plenty for them to carry, two loaves of bread, a couple of big lettuces, a basket of eggs as well as the milk-can full of milk, and a small tobacco tin.
“What is there in that?” said Roger.
“Worms,” said Captain John.
“Are we going fishing?” asked Roger.