AGAIN ON THE ISLAND.
Over such ground it was impossible to hurry, but in three-quarters of an
hour they reached the edge of the wood.
“I have been thinking that we had better take to the water for a bit,”
Stephen said. “They are sure to think that you have made for the coast,
and they will not be long in finding our footmarks. Though I don’t know
much about the Malays, I expect they can follow a track like all other
savages. The only thing to settle is whether we shall swim across the
river and go along in that direction, or keep on this side. We have not
seen anything of alligators, and I don’t think the sharks ever cross the
bars and come into fresh water.”
“All right, sir! If you think it is best to cross, I am ready,” Wilcox
said. “A dip will do us good, for the heat in that wood is enough to roast
an ox; besides, it will wash the mud off us. But we must look about for a
log to put the gun and our pistols and the ammunition on, we must not risk
wetting that.”
There were many pieces of drift-wood by the edge of the water, and
choosing one of them they fastened the weapons and cartridges on the top,
and then, entering the water and pushing it before them, swam over to the
opposite side. Then taking the arms again they let the log drift down the
river, and keeping in the water ankle-deep they followed the stream down
to the sea, and continued their course along the sand washed by the surf.
“How long a start do you think we shall get, Wilcox?” Stephen asked.
“I should say that two hours is as much as we can hope for.”
“Well, we shall be a good long way off by that time. I feel a new man
after that swim.”
“So do I,” Joyce said, speaking more briskly than he had hitherto done.
“Well, we had better set off at a trot,” the sailor said. “I expect those
beggars can run a good deal faster than we can. The great thing is for us
to get so far away before it gets dark that they won’t be able to see our
figures. If it is eight bells before they fairly set off after us, they
will only have a little better than two hours and a half. They are sure to
be thrown out for a bit at the mouth of the river. They will see our
footsteps at the water side, but won’t know whether we have crossed or
have kept along on that side. Very likely some of them will go one way and
some the other, still they are sure to have a talk and a delay. They ought
not to travel twice as fast as we have, at any rate, and they would have
to do that to catch us before it is dark.”
They set off at a brisk trot. The sand was fairly hard below the spot
where the surf rushed up over it, and the walking was easy in comparison
to that in the swamp or on loose sand. Still it was hot work. The sun
blazed down upon them, there was not a breath of wind, and they were
drenched with perspiration. They kept on steadily, however, slackening
only occasionally into a walk for two or three minutes, and then going on
again at a sharp pace.
“They won’t catch us before it gets dark,” the sailor said confidently. “I
reckon we must be making near seven knots an hour, and even a Malay could
not go at fourteen; besides, they will have to keep a sharp look-out for
footmarks in the sand above water-mark, as we might at any time come up
from the water and take to the forest. Anyhow, we must keep it up as long
as we can go. We ain’t running for amusement, it is for a big prize, for
our lives depend on our keeping ahead.”
Anxiously they watched the sun as it sank down towards the horizon, and
there was an exclamation of satisfaction as it disappeared below the
water.
“Another half-hour and we shall be able to take it easy,” Stephen said. “I
should not think they would keep up the search after dark, and then we
could safely take to the forest. The wind is springing up already, and
this light drifting sand will cover all signs of our footsteps before
morning.”
“We had better keep in the water as long as we can, Master Steve. They
can’t trace our footsteps here, but they might under the trees. These sort
of chaps are like dogs. I expect they can pretty well follow you by smell,
and the hope of getting heads will keep them at it as long as there is the
slightest chance of their overtaking us.”
“Well, we may as well be on the safe side anyhow, Wilcox, and will keep on
here as long as we can drag our feet along. We have got no boots to pinch
our corns, and every time the surf rushes up it cools our feet, so we
ought to be able to keep on till eight bells in the middle watch, by that
time I should think we shall have gone something like forty miles from
that river.”
“All that,” the sailor agreed. “It was about four bells when we swam
across, and in the four hours we have certainly gone twenty-four knots,
and I should say a bit further than that. If we only make three knots for
the next six hours, we shall have logged over forty by eight bells, and I
should say that even the Malays will hardly come as far as that,
especially as the men who take this side won’t be sure that we have not
gone the other, and have been caught by their mates.”
They kept steadily on, but their speed gradually abated, and for the last
two hours before the hands of Stephen’s watch pointed to twelve o’clock,
they stumbled rather than walked.
“I think that will do,” he said at last, “it is nearly eight bells now.
Let us tread in each other’s footsteps as well as we can, so that there
shall only be one line of marks.”
The change from the firm sand to the yielding drift—in which their feet
sank three or four inches—finished them, and although they had not more
than a hundred yards to walk to the trees, it seemed to them that they
would never get there. At last they reached the edge of the forest,
staggered a few paces in, and then without a word dropped down and almost
instantaneously fell asleep.
The sun was high when they woke. Stephen was the first to get on to his
feet. He went to the edge of the trees and looked across. To his
satisfaction he saw that the drifting sand had obliterated all trace of
their passage.
“Then I vote,” Wilcox said, when he was told the news, “that we go a bit
further into the wood and camp there for the day. I am just aching from
head to foot.”
“I think we must go on a bit further, Wilcox. You see there are no
cocoa-nuts here, and we must keep on until we come to a grove of them. The
trees are never far apart, and we may not have a mile to go. We certainly
can’t stay here all day without something to eat and drink. You see we
threw our nuts away when we started.”
“I suppose you are right, sir,” the sailor said, slowly getting up on to
his feet; “but it is hard, after such a run as we made yesterday, to have
to get up anchor again.”
“Well, we can take it easily, Wilcox, and we will stop at the first
cocoa-nut tree we come to. Now, Tom, as we go along you shall tell us
about yesterday, we have not heard a word yet.”
“Well,” began Joyce, “we paddled up the river, as you know. It was as much
as we could do sometimes to make head against the current. I suppose we
had been gone about an hour when we saw a troop of monkeys on the boughs
of a tree overhanging the water. They did not seem a bit afraid of us, but
chattered and screamed. We shot three of them. I did not fire, for I could
not bring myself to kill one of them. It was like shooting at a child. We
picked them out of the water and put them in the boat, and then paddled on
again. We had just got to a turn in the river when two big canoes came
round the corner. It was of no use our trying to get away, for they could
go six feet to our one. Mr. Towel stood up in the stern and held both his
arms up to show that we were friendly, but directly afterwards a shower of
spears came whizzing down at us. One hit Jackson, who was in the bow,
somewhere in the body. He fired at them, and then fell down in the bottom
of the boat. Then the rest of us fired, and for a moment they sheered off,
but the men had just time to reload their guns when the Malays came at us.
The men fired again, and a moment later the canoes ran alongside. We took
to our pistols, but the Malays came leaping on board like demons.
“I don’t know anything more about that part of the business, for I got a
crack on the head with a club, and did not know anything more till I was
hauled on shore and chucked down. Then I saw them bring from the canoes
the heads of all the others. It was frightful. Then they dragged the
bodies out from the bottom of the canoes. They had all been stripped, and
I believe I should have fainted if a big Malay had not given me a
tremendous kick, and made me walk up to the village. As soon as I got
there they tied me up and staked me out. There was a tremendous noise and
shouting and yelling, but what was done I don’t know, as I could see
nothing but the sky and the wall of the hut. It was an awful time; first
because I knew that sooner or later they would kill me, and in the next
place, because I was driven pretty nearly mad by the flies and things that
settled on my face. Of course I could not brush them away, and all that I
could do was to shake my head, and they did not seem to mind that. It
seems ridiculous that, after seeing one’s friends killed and knowing that
one is going to be killed oneself, one should worry over flies, but I can
tell you I went nearly out of my mind with irritation at the tickling of
their feet. It seemed to me that I was there for ages, though I knew by
the height of the sun that it was only about noon. The thirst, too, was
fearful, and I made up my mind that the sooner they came and killed me the
better. I found myself talking all sorts of nonsense, and I do think that
I should have gone out of my mind before the day was over. When first I
heard your voice I thought it must be a dream, like some of the other
ideas that came into my mind. I had thought of you both when I was first
fastened up, and wondered whether the Malays would find you. I had even
thought at first that if you only knew where I was you might try to get me
away after dark if I was not killed before that, and you can guess my
feelings when I became convinced that it was really you. How did you know
what had happened?”
“You must have been insensible for a good bit, Tom. We heard the firing,
and thought that there was too much of it for shooting monkeys, and that
you must have been attacked, so we made our way along among the bushes by
the bank. Presently the two canoes came down, and we made out some heads
in the stern of each boat. They went to the mouth of the river, to see, no
doubt, if there was a ship there. They came back again in half an hour. We
tried to count the heads, and both of us thought that there were about the
same number in each boat. Of course we could not be sure, but we
determined to come on to the village and find out for certain. I climbed
up a high tree a short distance from it—the one where we came upon the
cocoa-nuts—and made you out lying beside a hut. I knew by the white ducks
that it was either you or poor Towel. Then we worked round, waited until
the village had gone off to sleep, and then came for you. You see the
Malays had no idea that there were any more whites about, and therefore
took no trouble about you. No doubt they thought that the boat had escaped
from a wreck, and that all who had got away in her had gone up the river
together. Ah! there is a cocoa-nut. I am glad our walk is over, for I am
beginning to feel hot and thirsty.”
“So am I, and stiff and sore all over.”
The cocoa-nut tree was the first of a grove. Stephen, who was by far the
most active of the party, soon climbed one of the trees, and threw a score
of nuts down. They went a little distance further back into the forest.
Each consumed the contents of four nuts, then two of them lay down to
sleep again, while the other kept watch. The march was not resumed until
after sunset. They had another meal of cocoa-nuts before they started, and
each took three nuts for use on the journey. They again walked at the edge
of the water, as they had done the day before. It was by far the
pleasantest way, and they kept on until daylight appeared, and then again
went into the wood.
“I should think now,” Stephen said, as after a good sleep they ate a
cocoa-nut breakfast, “that we need not bother any more about the Malays of
that village. It is quite possible that we passed another last night,
though of course the sand-hills would have prevented our seeing it. The
question is now, what are we to do next?”
“That is what I was thinking all the time that we were walking last
night,” Joyce said. “We can’t keep on tramping and living on cocoa-nuts
for ever.”
“That is quite certain, Tom, but there is no reason why we should do so.
There must be some villages on this coast, and when we start this evening
I vote we keep along here instead of going down to the water. Where there
is a village there must be fishing canoes, and all we have got to do is to
take one, and put to sea. I don’t mean to say that we can get in and push
straight away, for we must have some provisions; but when we have found a
village we can hide up near it, and get as many cocoa-nuts as we can
carry. Besides, there are sure to be bananas and other fruit-trees close
by, and after laying our cocoa-nuts down by the edge of the water, we can
go up and cut as many bananas as we like, and then we shall have enough
food to last us ten days or so. There is one comfort, wherever we may land
there cannot be a worse lot of Malays than there are about here.”
“That is a capital plan, Master Stephen,” Wilcox said. “I have not been
thinking of a village, except as to how to get past it; but, as you say,
there is no reason why we should not make off in a canoe.”
The next night they kept along just inside the trees, and had walked but
two hours when they found that these ended abruptly, and that they stood
on the edge of a clearing.
“Here is your village, Stephen.”
“Yes; one hardly hoped to find one so soon. Well, the first thing is to go
down and search in the sand-hills for canoes.”
Four or five were found lying together in a hollow some twenty yards
beyond high-water mark. They examined them carefully.
“Any of them will do,” Wilcox said, “but I think this is the best one. It
is a little larger than the others, and the wood feels newer and sounder.
I expect she is meant for four paddlers, and she will carry us and a fair
cargo well.”
“That is settled, then,” Stephen said. “I propose that we go back some
little distance from the village, get our cocoa-nuts at once, and bring
them back and hide them in the bushes not far from where the clearing
begins. It will save time to-morrow.”
“Why should we not go to-night?” Joyce asked. “It is only about nine
o’clock now, and if we get the cocoa-nuts near here, we can make two or
three journeys down to the boat with them, and be off before midnight.”
“So we might, Tom. What do you say, Wilcox?”
“The sooner the better, says I,” the sailor replied. “As Mr. Joyce says,
we can be off by eight bells easy, and we shall be out of sight of this
village long before daybreak.”
“Well, Wilcox, will you and Mr. Joyce get the cocoa-nuts, and while you
are doing it I will creep round this clearing and get bananas. I can see
lots of their broad leaves over there. As I get them I will bring them to
this corner, and by the time you have got a store of nuts, I shall have a
pile of bananas. I think you had better go four or five hundred yards away
before you cut the nuts, for they come down with such a thump that any
native who is awake here might very well hear them.”
“We will go a bit away, sir,” Wilcox said, “but if we take pains to let
them drop each time just as there is a puff of wind, there is no fear of
their hearing them.”
They separated, and Stephen, entering the clearing, soon came upon a
banana tree with long bunches of the fruit. Two of these were as much as
he could carry, and his portion of the work was soon done, and indeed he
had carried them down to the water’s edge before his companions had
brought three loads of cocoa-nuts to the point where he had left them. He
helped to take these down, then the canoe was lifted and carried to the
edge of the water, being taken in far enough to float each time the surf
ran up. Then the fruit was placed in it.
“I wish we had poor Mr. Towel with us to take her through the surf,”
Wilcox said.
“I wish we had; but fortunately it is not very heavy.”
“No, sir; it is sure not to be,” the sailor said. “I have noticed that
they always put their villages at points where the surf is lighter than
usual. I suppose the water is shallower, or deeper, or something. I don’t
know what it is, but there is certainly a difference. Besides, there has
been no wind to speak of since we landed, and the waves are nothing to
what they were then. Now, gentlemen, as I am more accustomed to this sort
of thing than you are, I will take the place in the stern, where I can
steer her a bit. The moment she floats as the surf comes in, and I see the
chance is a good one, I will give the word; then we will all paddle as
hard as we can, and go out as the surf draws back, so as to meet the next
wave before it breaks. Everything depends on that.”
They took their places in the canoe, and grasped the paddles that they had
found in her. Two or three waves passed under them, and then they saw one
higher than the others approaching them.
“We will go out on the back of this one,” Wilcox said. “Paddle the moment
the surf lifts the canoe, and don’t let her be washed up a foot.”
The wave fell over with a crash, and a torrent of foam rushed up towards
them.
“Now,” Wilcox exclaimed, as the white line reached the bow, “paddle for
your lives!”
For a moment, in spite of their desperate efforts, they were carried
upwards, then the canoe seemed to hang in the air, and they were riding
forward with the speed of an arrow on the receding water.
“All you know,” Wilcox shouted, and as the rush of water ceased they drove
her ahead to meet the next wave. It rose higher and higher. The canoe
reached it, and, as it passed under them, stood almost upright. Two or
three more desperate strokes, and they heard a crash behind them.
“Row, row!” Wilcox shouted, as they felt the boat drawn backwards. It was
but for a few seconds, then they moved ahead again, passed over the next
wave, and were safe. They now settled to steady paddling, and before they
had gone many hundred yards from shore they no longer felt the long smooth
rollers, over which the canoe glided insensibly.
By daylight the land they had left was far behind them, the low-lying
coast had sunk from their view, and the hills behind were almost shrouded
from sight by the mist that rose from the swamps.
“It was well we rescued Mr. Joyce before it was dark,” the sailor said to
Stephen. “One night in those swamps is enough to lay any white man up with
fever. That was why I was so anxious to get him away at once. I did not
think that they would kill him straight off. If they had wanted him for
the feast they would have cut off his head when they caught him. I expect
they would have kept him for some other occasion; but I wanted to get him
out of it before the mists began to rise from the swamps. Now, sir, as we
are well away, shall I put her head north or south?”
“I don’t think it matters much, Wilcox. There is some high land just ahead
now, we may as well make in that direction as any other; but if we get to
a small island on the way, I should think that it would be safest to land
there, and wait for a few days anyhow, as we agreed before, to see if
there are any signs of a sail. At any rate, we won’t go near, by daylight,
any island likely to be inhabited.”
After paddling for some hours they saw a low island that seemed to be
about a quarter of a mile in diameter, and headed towards it. Before they
reached it, however, Wilcox said:
“Do you know, Mr. Joyce, I have been thinking for some time that I knew
that hill we were pointing to, and, now we have opened it out a bit more,
I feel sure of it.”
The lads ceased paddling, and looked intently at the hill, now some twelve
miles away. It had a flat top that seemed to be split asunder by a crack
running through it.
“I know it now,” Stephen exclaimed excitedly, “it is the island where that
wreck was.”
“That is it, sure enough, sir. I have been thinking it was so for some
time, but it is only now that I have caught the light through that gap at
the top. It was more open from the point where the _Tiger_ lay when we
started for shore, but if we row on for a mile or two and then make
straight for it, I think we shall just about strike the point where the
wreck is lying. No, I think we had better wait a while, Mr. Joyce,” he
said, as the latter dipped his paddle in the water and turned the boat’s
head towards the island.
“I think we had better wait till the sun gets pretty low. We know there
ain’t any villages near the wreck, for she must have been there a good
month afore we found her, and it was certain then that no native had been
near her. Still there may be some higher up on the slopes, and they might
make us out, so it is better that we should not get within six or eight
miles of land before it begins to be dark. We could not go to a better
place. First of all, there are no natives; secondly, we may pick up all
sorts of useful things about the shore. We did not see anything but bales
and wreckage where we landed, but it was all rock there. Now some of the
casks and things may have floated along, and have been cast up upon the
sand. Then, it is about the likeliest point for sighting the _Tiger_. The
skipper would naturally say to himself, There is no saying where the boat
has gone to, but if it is anywhere near the island where we lost them,
they would be likely to make for the wreck in hopes of finding some
provisions cast up there; and so he would sail round to have a look.”
“I think he would,” the boys both agreed, letting the boat drift quietly.
They made a hearty meal of bananas and cocoa-nut milk, and then all lay
down in the canoe and dozed for some hours. The two lads were roused by
Wilcox saying:
“I think, gentlemen, we can paddle on quietly now; the sun will be setting
in less than an hour.”
Resuming their seats, they paddled gently on until the sun disappeared,
then quickened their pace, and in another hour reached the shore. They had
no difficulty in landing, for the side on which the wreck was lying was
sheltered by the island itself from the rollers, and it was a sandy beach.
“I don’t think that we are far from the spot,” Wilcox said, “for we made
straight for that crack on the hill, and kept it open all the while. I
reckon we can’t be more than half a mile from where the wreck was lying.
“I don’t suppose we shall see anything of that, the cyclone must have
finished it. However, we will walk along the shore till we get to the
spot. We cannot mistake that. We will keep a bit back from the sea. We may
light upon something as we go, but it will be sure to be well inland; you
know we saw how far the sea washed things up beside the wreck.”
The night was too dark, however, for them to distinguish objects ten yards
away, and they soon came down to the water’s edge again, following it
until the character of the shore changed and rocks took the place of the
sand.
“That is all right,” the sailor said; “now I think we had better go back
to the boat again till we get daylight. It would never do to walk across
these rocks in the dark with naked feet. It was bad enough when it was
light, but we should cut our feet to pieces if we tried it now. There is
no hurry about it, as we are within half a mile of the wreck. We know that
everything is pretty well smashed up that went ashore there, so that we
are far more likely to find something on the sands, and we shall see the
_Tiger_ just as well from where the canoe is as from the wreck. The first
thing to look for is water. I don’t say that the cocoa-nuts would not
supply us for another week; but if we are going to stay here long—and for
my part I don’t see anything better to do—we must either find another
cocoa-nut grove or water.”
“I don’t think we are likely to find another cocoa-nut grove,” Stephen
said.
“Why not, sir? They have them mostly on all these islands.”
“That is true,” Stephen agreed; “but I should say it is just because there
are none here that there are no villages anywhere about.”
“I did not think of that, sir; yes, I expect you are right; and in that
case it is still more necessary to hunt for water. If we can find it
within four or five miles either side of the wreck we are all right,
because the _Tiger_ could not come here without our seeing her; but I
should not like to be much further away. However, most of these islands
have water, especially when they are hilly; and as we have been lucky so
far, it will be hard if we don’t find a stream of some sort along ten
miles of shore.”
The next morning they set out on a tour of exploration. They were not long
before they came upon many relics of the wreck: planks, spars, and remains
of the cargo. They lay nearly two hundred yards from the shore, and bore
no signs of the rough usage that had marked the wreckage among the rocks.
“Hurrah! there are some tubs,” Joyce shouted, as they reached the top of a
low sand-hill. They broke into a run, and were soon standing beside six
casks, lying a short distance apart.
“Salt junk,” Wilcox said, as they looked at the cask they first came to,
“and no bad thing either; cocoa-nuts are good for drink, but that soft,
pulpy stuff inside don’t go very far; and after a chap has been eating it
for a week he wants to get his teeth into something more substantial. This
ain’t no good,” he went on, giving a kick at the next cask, “unless the
natives come up and we open trade with them. These are goods they shipped
at Calcutta. This is better,” he went on, as he looked at the next; “this
’ere is biscuits; and with biscuits and salt junk, and a banana now and
then, no man need grumble.”
The next two were, like the second, filled with trade articles; the last
was a cask of flour.
“Well, we can stop here a couple of months if we like, gentlemen, if we
can but hit upon water; for that, of course, we must look beyond the line
of sand; a river can cut through it, but a little stream would find its
way underneath the sand to the sea.”
As they approached the rocky ground, which rose like a ridge, and could be
traced far inland, the sailor said: “This is the most likely spot. Any
water that came down from the hills would run along at the foot of these
rocks to the sea.”
“I think that you are right, Wilcox; the foliage looks brighter along by
the rocks than it does anywhere else, and I should not be surprised if we
found a stream there.”
As they approached the rocks within a hundred yards, the hope became a
certainty, for there was some growth of verdure. They quickened their
steps and ran forward, but, to their disappointment, there was no stream,
however small.
“We have got to dig for it,” Wilcox said; “there is water not far down, I
will swear.”
The soil was chiefly composed of sand, and they set to work with their
hands to scrape a hole in it. They had got but a foot down when the soil
became moist, and a foot lower water began to ooze out of the sides into
the hole.
“Thank God for that!” the sailor said reverently, “that makes it safe.
This evening, when it gets cool, we will bring the paddles here, and will
soon dig a hole for our well. We can’t do better than roll a tub here and
sink it in the hole, and bring the canoe to the edge of that rock down by
the sea, then we have only got to chop some boughs and make a sort of hut,
and we shall be as comfortable as if we were back home.”
“It is curious finding a rock here,” Joyce said presently, as they made
their way over to it. “For all the distance that we have gone along by the
sea, it has been nothing but sand: it is rum black-looking stuff, too.”
“I expect it is lava,” Stephen said. “There are lots of volcanoes among
these islands, and I believe that high hill is one, and that if we were to
climb up we should find there was a crater there. You see we are just in a
line with that gap, and this rock goes exactly in that direction. I expect
that in some eruption ever so long ago, the crater split there, and the
lava poured down here into the sea.”
“Very likely that is it, Stephen; it must have been a long time ago
anyhow, you see there are big trees growing on it.”
In ten minutes they arrived at the spot where the wreck had been; her keel
remained there, but with this exception she had entirely disappeared. They
took another look among the wreckage, cut off some lengths of rope and
coiled them up, and also a sail, which the sailor pronounced to be a
top-gallant sail. This they rolled up, fastened it by short pieces of
rope, and then, the sailor taking the middle and the lads the ends on
their shoulders, they carried it to what they already called their “well”.
“We will set to work at once to rig up a tent under the shade of these
trees,” the sailor said, “it will keep the night mists off better than
branches; and we will bring another sail over to cover the ground and keep
the mist from rising inside.”
“What are we going to cook our junk in?” Joyce asked suddenly.
The sailor looked at his companion in dismay. “Dash my timbers,” he said,
“I never thought of that; that is a go. Perhaps we can manage it in the
native way: they boil things by putting water into a big shell, and
dropping hot stones into it until it boils. We have not got any shells,
but we might find a hollow in the rock that will hold water.”
“That is all very well, Wilcox; but how are we going to heat our stones?”
“You have done me there, Master Stephen,” the sailor said, in a tone of
utter disgust; “we have not got flint or tinder.”
“We might manage the tinder easily enough,” Stephen said, “by using rotten
wood; but tinder is of no use without steel. We shall have to eat our
biscuits without meat, Wilcox, unless we can light a fire by rubbing two
sticks together.”
“That ain’t to be done, sir; I have seen white men try it over and over
again, and I have tried it myself, but it ain’t no manner of good. The
Almighty has given us a lot of knowledge that he has not given to these
black fellows, but he has balanced it up by giving them the knack of
lighting a fire which he has not given to us. I never heard of a white man
who could make fire in that way.”
“Well, I will have a try, anyhow,” Joyce said; “there can’t be anything
special about a Malay that he can make fire more than a white man.”
“You may try as much as you like, Master Joyce,” the sailor said, shaking
his head solemnly, “but mark my words, you won’t be able to do it. It is a
pity, too, for with all this wood that has been drying as if on purpose
for us, we could have had one without being afraid of the smoke.”
“Well, we must not grumble; we have got a lot to be thankful for; and we
can do without meat well enough.”
“Yes, Mr. Joyce,” Wilcox said reluctantly; “only, you know, I wish we had
not come across that cask of salt junk, then one would never have thought
about it; but seeing it there, and not being able to cook it, is enough to
make a saint grumble, I should say.”
“Not if he were really a saint, Wilcox. However, don’t make up your mind
that you are not going to get your teeth into that junk till I give up the
hope of making a fire.”
“Well, sir, we will roll the three barrels over here, and then set about
rigging up the tent. There is nothing like being busy.”
By nightfall they had got the tent up. They had had some argument over the
best site. All would have preferred to have erected it on the low ground,
near their well, but finally a point was decided upon, some little
distance higher—a level spot being found on the rock where some trees
offered every convenience for pitching it, and the surface of the rock was
fairly flat. A few armfuls of coarse grass sufficed to fill up the
inequalities, and render it even enough for sleeping on. Here they had the
advantage of getting the sea-breeze, and of having a wide view across the
water, while trees growing behind them completely hid the tent from being
seen from the higher ground. Before erecting it they had deepened the
well, and found that the water was clear and good, and that it flowed in
so abundantly there was no fear whatever of the supply falling short.
The next morning Wilcox and Joyce started for an early walk, with a view
to seeing whether there were any things thrown up on the sand beyond the
rock. Stephen was to stay behind at the tent and keep watch for a sail.
“I will leave the gun behind with you, Master Stephen,” Wilcox said; “Mr.
Joyce has got his pistols, and I have my cutlass. If you want us back, or
if you make out a sail, you fire it off; we will come back as quick as we
can. Don’t you fidget if we are some time away; casks may have floated a
good bit along before they got thrown up, and it is just as well to see
the thing through now, and then we sha’n’t have to do it again. We will
keep a good look-out for a sail too, for it is like enough that we may be
a long way beyond the sound of the gun. You see we can make out from here
that a mile further on the trees come down to near the sea again, just as
they did on the other island. We will take some cocoa-nuts with us, in
case we should not light upon any there. We sha’n’t be uneasy about you,
because we know for certain that there ain’t any natives near; and, in the
same way, you need not trouble yourself about us.”
“All right, Wilcox! I will see whether I can’t get some junk cooked for
you, ready for a meal at sunset.”
The sailor smiled grimly. “All right, sir; if I find some meat cooked for
me, I will guarantee that I will eat it, even if it is as tough as an
alligator.”