We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea. Arthur Ransome

it had looked as if there would never be room to turn round. But they had given Susan a free hand down there, while they rowed ashore twice more to fill the water-carrier at the tap in the boat-builder’s yard, and, when they had emptied the second lot of water into the tank under the cockpit floor, they had looked down into the cabin and found it strangely empty. All the blankets had been rolled up into neat bundles. There was one at the head of each bunk. And Susan was on her knees with a bucket and a swab, cleaning the cabin floor, and looking very much as if she did not want to be interrupted. So they had left her to it and gone to work on deck. “Better learn the ropes,” Jim had said. Three times they had hoisted the mainsail and lowered it again, and the last time John had been allowed to do it by himself, Jim watching and saying nothing, except right at the end, when he reminded John to slacken away the topping lift so that the sail should take the weight of the boom. Then Jim had explained the reefing gear, and taken a little brass crank from a locker in the cockpit, and brought it forward and fitted it in its place, and shown John how to reef, by turning the crank and easing off the main halyard inch by inch at the same time, so that the boom turned slowly round and round, winding up the sail. Then John had learnt the trick of the rolling jib, and how to make the foot of the staysail fast, and how to clip its hanks on the forestay. By that time the warm August sun had taken the damp out of the flag halyards, so that they had gone slack and the burgee on its stick at the masthead was swinging about all cockeye, and Jim had told John to tighten it up, and had shown him how to lower it hand over hand so that it came down without jerks, how to hoist it in the same way, and how to make the halyards fast with a rolling hitch. And now, sitting in the cockpit, after all that pulling and hauling, John was looking up at the mast, and the blocks that were hard to see up there in the bright sunlight, and reminding himself what each block was for and where its rope went. There were more ropes in the Goblin than in any little boat he had ever sailed, but after spending half the morning pulling, making fast, casting off, overhauling and making fast again, John, very happy, was beginning to hope that he might not be quite useless as a crew. As for Susan, when she had scrubbed the floor, and arranged the bunks, with pillow, blankets and a knapsack at the head of each, tidied the shelves, cleaned the cooking stove, and cleared out quantities of dirt from odd corners, she had got, so to speak, into her stride, did not want to stop, and, even while watching for the others from the cockpit, liked to feel that the time was not being wasted. A proper go with brass polish and rag would make the compass porthole fit to look at.

      FIRST AID

      “Here they are!” Jim Brading was the first to see the borrowed dinghy, with Mother, Bridget, Roger and Titty aboard, putting off from the hard. “I say, your mother knows how to handle a boat.”

      “She’s jolly good at it,” said John.

      Mrs Walker was rowing, working the boat neatly through a crowd of other dinghies anchored off the hard. Roger was in the bows. Titty and Bridget were in the stern sheets.

      “They’ve got a lot of parcels,” said Susan. “I’ll have to finish that porthole another time.” She slipped down into the cabin and put the brass polish back in its place in the forepeak.

      She came up again. It seemed a pity that her tidy cabin was going to be upset almost at once, but she supposed all that stuff would stow away somewhere.

      Jim stowed his half-smoked pipe, that had gone out again, carefully away in one of the cockpit lockers.

      Mother shipped her oars as the loaded dinghy slipped up alongside.

      “Let’s have that painter, Roger,” said Jim. “Hullo! What’s that you’ve got in your hand?”

      “Penny whistle,” said Roger. “At least it cost more than a penny.”

      “He would buy it,” said Bridget.

      “Well, Captain Flint’s got an accordion in the houseboat,” said Roger.

      “Can you play it?” said Jim.

      “Just a bit,” said Roger. “I left mine behind at school.”

      “Luckily,” said John.

      “Unluckily,” said Roger. “I can play it, really. A boy at school taught me.” He looked round a little doubtfully. Nobody said he couldn’t, but Mother laughed and said, “Mr Brading’ll always be able to throw him overboard if he makes too much noise. May Bridget and I come aboard to say goodbye to the crew. We’d like to see the ship they’re going to sail in.”

      “Please do,” said Jim. “Come on, Bridget.”

      “I’ll come next,” said Mother, “and then Titty can hand up the parcels. Don’t squash that bag with the sausage rolls. Or the one with the doughnuts, and do take care of the pork pie.”

      “We’ll never get all this eaten,” said Jim. “I mean, it’s very good of you, but. . . ”

      “You don’t know what these people can do till you’ve seen them try,” said Mother. “There’s this evening, and all tomorrow, and most of next day.”

      “Come down and look at the cabin,” said Susan, who wanted Mother to see it while it was still tidy. “Look at the stove, two burners, and a real sink on the other side.”

      “She’s a most comfortable little ship,” said Mother, going down the companion-steps and looking round her.

      “Titty and I are going to sleep here,” said Susan, showing her the fore-cabin. “And Roger’s going to be there, and John here.”

      “And poor Mr Brading?” said Mother. “It looks quite a hard floor.”

      “I can sleep like a log anywhere,” said Jim, looking down from the cockpit, adding with a grin, “even with my head on somebody else’s supper-table.”

      “And look how the backs of the bunks open,” said Susan. “Huge cupboards behind.”

      “What,” said Mother. “Stewed pears, and peaches, spaghetti and tomato, pea soup. . . ”

      “Uncle Bob and I mostly live out of tins,” said Jim.

      “It’s wonderful what good things you can get in tins nowadays,” said Mother. “What’s this. . . a whole shelf of steak and kidney puddings?”

      “They’re very easy to hot up,” said Jim.

      “The things I’ve brought you are much tamer,” said Mother.

      “Doughnuts,” said Roger, “and sausage rolls, and rock buns, and a lot of ham all ready for eating.”

      “Here’s the pork pie,” said Bridget, who had climbed down into the cabin, using only one hand while she clasped the pork pie to herself with the other.

      “Lots of apples,” said Roger, “and the right sort of chocolate, in squares. And two dozen eggs and a whole pound of butter.”

      “And two loaves of bread. . . ” said Titty.

      “I ought to have thought of that,” said Jim. “But I mostly eat biscuits and so I forget. Uncle Bob always brings a loaf.”

      “Cherry cake,” said Roger.

      Susan had cleared a shelf in one of the cupboards, and was packing the parcels away as they came down.

      “Better keep the ham outside the cabin,” said Mother.

      “I’ll put it in one of the cockpit lockers,” said Jim.

      “And what about the bread and the cake?”

      “There’s a bread-tin specially for them in the cupboard under the sink,” said Susan.

      “And now,” said Mother, when she had seen everything, and all the provisions had been put away and the cupboard doors closed, and the cabin was once more the tidy place that Susan had made it, “have you got a chart?