The Lucky Number/Our Pirate

had promised that, as soon as we got down to Saltways for the summer holidays, he would take us all, without fail, deep-sea fishing. There are four of us—me, Belle, Kit, and Jerry (whose real name is not Jeremiah, as you might think, but Gerald).

But it was the strangest summer holiday. We had hardly arrived when everybody began to go away again. The band on the pier had gone already: Dad said they had been summoned to Vienna, to “mobilize.” Dad went next—in uniform. He does not wear uniform very often now, although, years ago, even before I was born (I am the eldest), he used to wear it every day. Now he belongs to something called the Special Reserve, which only wears uniform sometimes. When he came down to breakfast in it, I said:

“Are you going back to the Old Regiment, Dad?” (I do not know how old the regiment is, but he always calls it the Old Regiment.)

“No such luck, my son,” said Dad.

“What regiment are you going to?” asked Kit, who is very inquisitive—so Fräulein says.

“I am going,” said Dad, “to command the First Service Battalion of the King's Own Royal Moth-Eaten Dug-Outs.”

“Where?” said Kit.

“Germany, I hope; Belgium, I expect,” said Dad.

“Is there really a war?” we all asked.

“So really,” said Dad, “that I dare say we shall have to fall back for help upon people like you, Rollo, old man, before we have finished.”

I was pleased at this, but Mother said to Dad:

“Don't! I can't bear any more.”

The others did not hear; and Belle, who always wants to crush into everything—Mother says she is “very officious”—asked:

“Can't Kit and me go too?”

“We could carry drinks of water to the wounded,” said Kit. “We promise not to speak to any of them, or bother them.” Kit is always getting into trouble for bothering people. She talks all day, more or less.

“Me too!” said Jerry. (He always wants to do what other people are doing.)

“That’s the right spirit,” said Dad; “but you must all stay at home and grow a bit first. I want you to be particularly law-abiding for the next few days, because Mother is going away with me, and Fräulein has to return to Germany.”

“How can Mother go into battles with you?” asked Belle.

“I’m not going into battle straight off,” said Dad. “The Royal Dug-Outs will require to be dusted and aired for a month or two before they are fit for service. I am going to Salisbury Plain, and Mother is coming with me for a few days to put my quarters in order.”

Kit said:

“Then we shan’t get any fishing after all!”

“I don’t see who is to take them,” said Mother to Dad.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Dad. “Why not wire to Sylvia?”

We all jumped for joy. Aunt Sylvia is Mother's youngest sister. She is a nailing good sort. When she comes to stay, we have all kinds of treats. We make fires in the plantations and roast potatoes at them. We have races, and high-jumping, and tree-climbing competitions, and Aunt Sylvia gives us prizes. She can climb any tree herself. When it is wet, we make toffee in the nursery. The only drawback about her is that she is pretty old—over twenty, I believe.

, Aunt Sylvia came, and that was where our adventures began.

The very first morning after Dad and Mother left—Fräulein had gone away the day before, crying, as she naturally would at having to go to a place like Germany—we all went down to the beach to hire a boat. We went to Mr. Snagsby. We always go to him. He is very fat, but good-tempered; and if you are out for an hour and a quarter instead of an hour, he only charges you a shilling just the same. We found him down by his boats, as usual.

“Good morning, Snagsby,” said Aunt Sylvia. “How is business?”

“Very bad, Miss,” said Snagsby. “People are afraid to hire a boat these days, for fear of the Germans.”

“But surely the Germans know that you are here, Snagsby!” said Aunt Sylvia in a surprised voice.

Snagsby's boy, Jim, began to laugh, but Snagsby replied, very politely:

“Even that won't keep them away, Miss, when they know you are here.”

This time Aunt Sylvia laughed, and said:

“That's one to you, Snagsby.”

We did not know what she meant.

“We shall be starving, Miss, in less than no time,” Snagsby went on, as he pushed the boat into the water.

Jerry, who is only seven, looked rather frightened at this.

Aunt Sylvia said quickly:

“Don’t be a silly old man, Snagsby. It would do you no harm to starve a little. Then you might be able to get that jersey off. You must have had to sleep in it for years!”

Jerry and all of us laughed at this; and Mr. Snagsby, who is a very old friend of Aunt Sylvia's, just smiled and pushed us off.

We rowed to a good fishing-place that Aunt Sylvia knew of. It was between the mainland and a queer flat-topped island called “The Parson's Hat.” I rowed. Aunt Sylvia said she would row back.

As a matter of fact, neither of us rowed back.

The fishing was tremendous fun. Aunt Sylvia invented a competition, and offered a shilling as the prize. The competition was this: If you caught a flounder, you got one mark. If you caught a whiting, you got two marks. If you caught a codling or a haddock, you got three marks. If you caught a whale, you got a hundred marks. (Aunt Sylvia made this bit up to please Jerry really.) But if you caught a dog-fish, you got minus four marks.

It was no good trying to explain to Jerry what “minus” meant, so we let him fish in his own way, which is on the bottom, with simply yards of loose line out. He counts a hundred and then pulls up.

It was rather a close day, very still, with patches of thick white mist on the water—very pleasant for fishing, as the boat did not rock. Jerry, who had been muttering to himself in a low voice, soon said: “Ninety-nine, a hundred!” and pulled up his line. Both baits were gone, which upset him very much; but Aunt Sylvia said it was a sign that there were fish about, so he cheered up.

We were all fishing hard now. Belle, who is rather religious, was caught by Aunt Sylvia praying that she might catch nothing but haddocks. (Three marks each.) Mother does not allow her to pray that she may win games or competitions. Aunt Sylvia knows this, and told her not to be a little prig. She also had to speak to Kit, who was trying to irritate Jerry by jerking his line when he was not looking. She does this very often—irritates Jerry, I mean.

However, it was Jerry who caught the first fish. Of course it was a flounder, and only counted one mark. But Jerry was delighted, and insisted on keeping it down inside his sailor suit. After that I caught a whiting (two marks), and Kit caught a codling (three marks). After that, unluckily, we caught a lot of minuses—dog-fish, I mean. We ate our lunch while we fished. We had hard-boiled eggs, and jammy Scones, with a bottle of ginger-beer each. Aunt Sylvia had also thoughtfully brought some chocolate.

Just as we were finishing lunch, Jerry screamed out:

“Kit, will you leave my line alone!”

He had been helping with the other lines, and had turned round, to catch Kit doing something to his line. We all turned round too, rather suddenly.

Kit gave a jump. There was a splash, and something fell into the water.

“Kit,” said Aunt Sylvia, “what are you doing?”

“I was only playing a little joke on Jerry,” said Kit.

“What joke?”

“I was tying something heavy on to his line, so that he would think he had a fish.”

“What did you tie?” asked Aunt Sylvia.

“The rowlocks.”

“Put them back immediately,” said Aunt Sylvia. “Supposing they fell overboard?”

“They have,” said Kit, and began to cry.

were in a nice fix. Belle and Jerry looked as if they wanted to cry too; but Aunt Sylvia did not seem to mind.

“We shall get home all right,” she said. “Rollo and I will kneel down and paddle the boat like an Indian war-canoe. We will pretend to be braves out on the war-trail. This calm sea looks just like one of the great American lakes. Get up the anchor, that brave in the bow!”

Then she gave us all names. I was Running Deer; Belle, the Princess Ipecacuanha; Kit, the maid Smiling Dewdrop; and Jerry, Bubbling River.

I had just got the anchor to the top, when Kit cried:

“Hallo, what's that noise?”

The weather had grown more thick and misty than ever, and though we could just make out the land on our left, it was almost impossible to see anything out at sea. The only thing that was visible in that direction was the Parson's Hat, very dim and ghostly on our right.

Suddenly, over our heads, we heard a buzzing, crackling noise. B-r-r-r-r-r-r!—like that!

“It’s a big motor-car!” cried Jerry.

We all laughed at the idea of a motor-car running over the sea. But Aunt Sylvia said:

“Jerry is very nearly right. It’s an aeroplane.”

And it was. We saw it now, high above our heads. It was all silver-grey, with a flat tail, like a fish.

“There's something wrong with the engine,” said Aunt Sylvia.

“How do you know?” we all asked.

“Listen to that noise,” said Aunt Sylvia. “She is back-firing.”

And, sure enough, every now and then, instead of the buzzing noise, came half a dozen great crack, cracks, like a gun being fired. Then the engine stopped altogether, and the aeroplane began to circle slowly down.

“He’ll be drowned!” Screamed Kit.

“No, he won’t,” said Aunt Sylvia. “I believe he is going to try to land on the Parson's Hat.”

But the Parson's Hat was so dim that we could not see whether the aeroplane landed there or not. However, it sank out of sight; so all we could do was guess.

“And now, my braves,” said Aunt Sylvia, “we must see about getting home. Come along, Running Deer! You paddle with one oar and I’ll take the other.”

We set to work. It really was rather a splendid adventure, and we were all beginning to enjoy it thoroughly, when Belle said:

“Aunt Sylvia, I don’t believe we have got any farther in the last half-hour. Look at the land!”

We all looked. The land seemed farther away, if anything.

“It’s the fault of the tide,” said Aunt Sylvia. “It turned about an hour ago, and is running strong just now. We must paddle harder, that's all.”

So we set to work again. The sea was very calm, and we seemed to be going through the water quite fast; but we were n’t really. However, we stuck to it. Aunt Sylvia taught us a song to sing. It said:

Suddenly Jerry squeaked out:

“The land's out of sight altogether now! I want to go ho-o-ome!”

Sure, enough, we could not see the land any more—nothing but the Parson's Hat, looking so creepy! Aunt Sylvia gazed through the mist for a while, but could not see anything. However, she did not seem at all frightened. She just smiled at us. She said:

“Knock off work for five minutes, and we will hold a pow-wow.”

“What's that?” asked Belle.

“A council of braves.”

So we held a pow-wow. I suggested that, as we were now cast away and might be some days in the boat, the provisions had better be counted, and rations served out very sparingly. Aunt Sylvia said this was a good idea, and gave us half a bar of chocolate apiece, as the first ration. This refreshed us greatly. She even gave a piece to Kit, whose fault it all was. She also talked about what fun it would be to remember this adventure when we got safe back to shore.

Belle said:

“Aunt Sylvia, do you think we shall ever get safe back to shore again?”

“Why, bless you, Ipecacuanha,” said Aunt Sylvia, “of course we shall! If we don’t get there this tide, we shall get there the next. But in all probability we shall be picked up by some other boat before that. There are usually lots out fishing in the evening.”

“Not since the War broke out,” said Kit. “We shall all be drowned, and it will be my fault!”

This was really rather serious, for Kit had never been known to be sorry for anything before.

“Now, then, Smiling Dewdrop,” said Aunt Sylvia, “a little more smile and a little less dew, please, or you shall be reduced to the rank of wigwam-scrubber! Let us look round the horizon for a friendly sail. If there is n’t one, we must just start paddling again.”

Then another tremendous thing happened. Aunt Sylvia had hardly spoken, when out of the mist came a ship!

was a sort of bank of mist lying on the water close to us, and the ship came out of that. She was a long, low vessel, painted grey, with four fat black funnels and one silly little mast. She was going very slowly, because of the fog. As she passed us, her engines stopped altogether.

“It’s a man-of-war,” said Belle.

“It’s a torpedo-boat destroyer,” said Aunt Sylvia.

“German?” asked Kit, rather frightened.

But I was able to point out that she was flying the White Ensign, and no German ship would ever dare to fly that.

Then a most exciting thing happened. A boat suddenly appeared from the far side of the ship, and rowed towards us. There were four men rowing, and two officers in the stern. One officer had a brown, smiling face, with nice white teeth. The other was a boy, not much older than me, I should say. (Aunt Sylvia said afterwards he was a midshipman.)

The boat stopped beside us, and the brown-faced officer touched his cap.

“Good afternoon,” he said, smiling at us all. “Are you proposing to invade Germany? You seem to be drifting in that direction.”

“On the contrary,” said Aunt Sylvia. “We are a party of Indian braves, paddling our war-canoe. This,” introducing me first, “is the great chief Running Deer; this is the Princess Ipecacuanha; that is the maiden Smiling Dewdrop; and that small brave in the bow, all over fish-bait, is Bubbling River.”

“And who are you, may I inquire?” asked the smiling officer.

“I am the grandmother of the tribe,” said Aunt Sylvia. “My name is Thousand Wrinkles.”

“You are the only member of the party whom I do not recognize at a glance,” said the officer. (I don't know what he meant, or how he could recognize any of us, not having seen us before.)

“Who are you?” asked Aunt Sylvia, turning rather red.

“I? Oh, I am a pirate!” said the officer. “This is my bo'sun, Bloodstained Bartholomew.” He pointed to the young officer in the stern, who looked very much ashamed. Of course, I knew it was all a joke, but the others did n’t. They simply stared at poor Bartholomew.

“And these,” the officer went on, pointing to the men who had been rowing, “are the four fiercest men in my crew. They live on rum and broken glass, and they have to kill a man a day each before they are allowed any dinner.”

The four sailors, who looked very jolly and good-tempered, all laughed at this; but the officer warned us that they were always most bloodthirsty when they smiled.

“Have you far to go before you make your next portage?” he asked Aunt Sylvia.

“Saltways,” she answered.

“You have a long way to go,” said the officer, “and there is a strong tide against you. Why not try rowing instead of paddling? You could turn into an ancient Greek galley for the occasion.”

“Unfortunately,” replied Aunt Sylvia, “we can’t. One of our number has had a trifling accident with the rowlocks, so we simply have to be Red Indians.”

Kit went perfectly crimson, but the officer just nodded, and said: “In that case I think we may be of some assistance. I would take you all on board my ship and run you into port, but I happen to be rather busy just now.” Still, he did not look very busy.

“Are you after a Spanish galleon, sir?” I asked.

“No,” said the officer. “I am after some German buccaneers.”

“O-oh!” we all said. And I asked:

“Is it a big ship you are after?”

“I’m not particular,” said the officer. “Two or three small ones would do.”

Then Kit, who had been very quiet all the time (owing to losing the rowlocks), said suddenly:

“Would you like to catch an aeroplane, sir?”

All the rest of us had forgotten the aeroplane.

“Have you seen one anywhere, Smiling Dewdrop?” asked the officer.

“Yes,” said Kit.

“Tell me,” said the officer, “was she silver-grey?”

“Yes,” we all shouted.

“Where did you see her?”

“Let Kit tell,” said Aunt Sylvia.

“It flew over our heads,” said Kit, very proud at being allowed to tell, “not long ago. Then it began to come down. Aunt Sylvia thought something might have gone wrong with the engine.”

The officer nodded his head.

“Very likely,” he said. “And where did it come down?”

“We think it came down on the Parson's Hat,” said Kit.

“That flat-topped island?” cried the officer. “Just the place! He will wait till dark and then fly over on a scouting expedition to our coast. I don’t suppose there is much wrong with the engine after all,” he said to Aunt Sylvia. “Now, supposing—”

“Oh, do be quick!” screamed Kit. “He may escape!”

The officer stopped talking to Aunt Sylvia, and laughed.

“Little lady,” he said to Kit, “you are right and I am wrong. I must n’t lose any time.” He turned to the young officer.

“Bartholomew,” he said, “make fast this boat to your stern. Then put me back on board the Lame Duck. Then tow this party to within easy reach of Saltways, and rejoin us as fast as you can at the Parson's Hat.”

The young officer said: “Very good, sir!” Next moment we were being pulled along behind the other boat, and in a few minutes we reached the side of the ship. The officer shook hands with us all. “Good bye,” he said. “Owing to your invaluable information I am going to bring off one of the first scoops of the War. Bloodstained Bartholomew will see you home.”

Then he told a sailor to hand us down a pair of rowlocks.

“Some day,” he said, “I shall come and call for those rowlocks, so don't lose them!” We promised not to.

“Now I must leave you,” he said. “Forgive me for not coming with you, but I have to go down to the kitchen, to heat the cannon-balls red-hot.”

He shook hands with Aunt Sylvia again, and we all waved good-bye to him. Next minute we found ourselves slipping along through the calm Sea, leaving the ship behind. We had hardly left her when there was a gentle rumble from her engines, and she began to steal in the direction of the Parson's Hat.

Bloodstained Bartholomew talked to us quite a lot on the way home, although he had seemed very shy before. He said that the smiling officer was not a pirate at all, but Lieutenant-Commander Naylor, and that the ship was called the Golden Eagle—not the Lame Duck. Bartholomew's name was really Cecil Graham. He said that Commander Naylor was the finest commander in the Service, and the Golden Eagle the finest ship.

We gave him our names and addresses, and he promised to send us picture-postcards whenever he captured a German port.

Well, we reached Saltways all too soon. Then Bartholomew—I mean Cecil—untied our rope, and, having said good-bye to us, disappeared with his four jolly pirates into the mist.

They captured the aeroplane all right. There was nothing wrong with the engine after all: it was simply waiting on the Parson's Hat for darkness. We saw about it in the papers; but our names were n’t mentioned, which was rather hard on Kit.

However, it was a first-class adventure for us all. For Commander Naylor and Bartholomew, because they caught the aeroplane. For me, because I met Commander Naylor. For Belle, because she met him too. For Kit, because she was praised by him. For Jerry, because he won the fishing competition. (You see, the rest of us, having caught so many dogfish, were all minuses; so Jerry, with his one flounder, got the shilling.) And, lastly, for Aunt Sylvia, because one day, long after, Lieutenant-Commander Naylor really did come back for the rowlocks. Aunt Sylvia said she could not find them anywhere; so the Commander said that, as a punishment, she would have to come away with him for good instead. And she went. I don’t call that much of a punishment, do you?