Toward the end of the afternoon, Arthur and Lucy set out for the Pond, hoping to get their boat back. But in the last few hours water had been steadily seeping into the Bluebottle’s hold, and by the time the children arrived she had sunk without a trace.
She’s gone,” Arthur said miserably. She can’t have gone,” Lucy said. “She’s probably just drifted around the island. Come on. Let’s go and look.”
But when they reached the other side of the Pond it was not Bluebottle they saw, but Lady Crossbones, lying black and motionless by the island shore.
She was nestled in among the rushes, but they could see her quite clearly. They stood in silence a moment, dazzled by her gold sails and her cold beauty.
“Who do you think she belongs to?” Lucy asked eventually.
“I don’t know. But with a name like Lady Crossbones it must be a pirate ship,” Arthur said. “And look!” he gasped. “It’s even got a gangplank!” He felt his heart quicken. It looked much more real than any of the other toy pirate ships he had seen.
There was nothing stirring on the deck. But they could see the Rats’ lantern hanging from the mast. And there was light coming from one of the portholes.
“Maybe it sunk Bluebottle,” Arthur said.
“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy replied. “Toy boats don’t sink each other.”
“But this boat doesn’t look like a toy,” Arthur said. “It looks real.”
Lucy shivered. It did look real—and it had a sinister air. Its owner must be here somewhere. She looked around the Pond fearfully, as if expecting some vile creature suddenly to burst out from the water. But everything was very still. Then she noticed a small gleam of light, as the sun fell on something tucked into the rushes just below where she was standing.
Lucy knelt down on the bank and hurriedly brushed aside the plants, wondering what it could be. But then she saw that it was just an old bottle. It must have been washed up the stream, she thought, and yet something about it caught her eye.
She leaned down and picked it out of the water. “Look at this,” she said, showing the bottle to Arthur.
He shrugged. It didn’t look very interesting.
Lucy brushed the glass with her sleeve. “There’s a piece of paper inside it,” she said.
“A piece of paper?” Arthur asked, suddenly intrigued. “Here, let’s have a look.”
Lucy passed it to him, and he held the bottle close up to his face and peered inside.
He pulled out the cork and shook out the piece of brown paper. Then he unrolled it and held it flat.
The writing was too small for the children to read, and the ink had become smudged. But they recognized the strange, loopy pattern of the letters, and knew at once that it was in Nutmeg’s hand.
They both gasped. Whatever was Nutmeg doing sending them a letter in a bottle? That meant she must be on the island. But why? Could it be that she had something to do with the sinister pirate ship?
“We must work out what it says—she probably knows what’s happened to Bluebottle,” Lucy said urgently.
“Try this,” Arthur said, pulling a small magnifying glass from his penknife. It was not very strong, but when Lucy held it over the paper she could make out most of what was written. She read the letter out loud to Arthur, guessing the words that were too faint to see.
Arthur listened in astonishment. When he heard his boat had sunk he looked close to tears. “So it was Nutmeg who took Bluebottle!” he said in dismay. “Well, she can’t be much good at sailing if she let it sink. Now we’ll never get it back.”
“Why are you still worrying about Bluebottle?” Lucy asked scathingly. “It’s Nutmeg that matters now. Have you got another boat we can use to rescue her?”
“Not really,” he said, feeling a little chastened. “There’s only the plastic one in the bathroom, and that leaks.”
“Then we’ll have to make one,” Lucy said. “There must be something at home we can use. Come on. If we hurry we can get back here before supper.”
The children ran back to Rose Cottage and started turning out the kitchen cupboards, looking for something boatlike. There was a bread pan, but it was too rusty, and there was a yogurt cup, but that was too deep. There was a wooden salad bowl that might have worked, but a woodworm had eaten through it.
Then Lucy found an old margarine tub that was being used to keep rubber bands in. “That’ll do fine,” Arthur said. “It will be just Nutmeg’s size.”
What they did next was very clever. They attached two twigs in a cross to make a mast, then tied on one of Mr. Mildew’s handkerchiefs for a sail and stuck it in the tub with Blue Tack. Then they put in two teaspoons for Nutmeg to use as oars, in case there was no breeze. When they had finished, they ran straight back to the Pond. They had been gone nearly two hours, and dusk was gathering. But the pirate ship had not moved.
“I hope we’re not too late,” Lucy said, looking at it with apprehension.
“I wouldn’t have thought so,” Arthur replied confidently. “It’s getting dark, so maybe the pirates will have stopped pirating for today. And by the time they start up again tomorrow, Nutmeg will have escaped in our boat.”
They walked to the water’s edge and launched the margarine tub from the bank opposite the ship. Arthur poked it as far as it would go with a stick. Then they stood and watched as the breeze played in its sail, nudging it toward the cove where Bluebottle had sunk.