“You see, as it happens,” said Robert, in what was really a rather annoying tone, “it wasn’t a newspaper, it was in a book.”
“How sweet Chinese white is!” said Jane, dreamily sucking her brush again.
“I don’t believe it,” said Cyril to Robert.
“Have a suck yourself,” suggested Robert.
“I don’t mean about the Chinese white. I mean about the cream fish turning purple and—”
“Oh!” cried Anthea, jumping up very quickly, “I’m tired of painting. Let’s go somewhere by Amulet. I say let’s let it choose.”
Cyril and Robert agreed that this was an idea. Jane consented to stop painting because, as she said, Chinese white, though certainly sweet, gives you a queer feeling in the back of the throat if you paint with it too long.
The Amulet was held up.
“Take us somewhere,” said Jane, “anywhere you like in the Past—but somewhere where you are.” Then she said the word.
Next moment everyone felt a queer rocking and swaying—something like what you feel when you go out in a fishing boat. And that was not wonderful, when you come to think of it, for it was in a boat that they found themselves. A queer boat, with high bulwarks pierced with holes for oars to go through. There was a high seat for the steersman, and the prow was shaped like the head of some great animal with big, staring eyes. The boat rode at anchor in a bay, and the bay was very smooth. The crew were dark, wiry fellows with black beards and hair. They had no clothes except a tunic from waist to knee, and round caps with knobs on the top. They were very busy, and what they were doing was so interesting to the children that at first they did not even wonder where the Amulet had brought them.