"Oh, won't it be gorgeous!" said Tom, sitting up and hugging his knees. "All by ourselves. No grown-ups. A little island, far away over there to the east—and no one on it but ourselves! Too good to be true."
In great excitement the children made their plans. "Let's take plenty of food," said Tom, who was always hungry. "I don't know why, but when I'm out on the sea I feel I could eat all the time."
"So do I," said Mary. "It's awful. I've never felt so hungry in my life as I have since we came here."
"Well, we'll get heaps of food," said Tom. "And I'll bring my field-glasses, so that we can see the birds well."
"And you'll bring warm clothes and rugs with you," said Andy.
"Oh, Andy! We shan't need those, surely!" said Jill. "This September is just about the hottest I've ever known."
"It will break soon," said Andy. "And if it happens to turn cold whilst we're in the boat, you'll not like it."
"All right," said Tom. "We'll bring anything, so long as we can go. I say—what about the gramophone? Music sounds lovely on the water."
Andy was fond of music, so he nodded. The boat was quite a big one, and even had a little cabin to sit in, with a tiny table and stool, a bench and bunk. Nobody could stand in it, but that didn't matter. The three children had often crowded into it together, whilst Andy sailed the ship around the bay.
They had always longed to visit the island that Andy had told them about—an island of birds, a queer rocky place with a strange cove where most of the stones were yellow. But it was so far from the Coast that it had not been possible to visit it in a day.