I told Dr Cockle all I had heard about my brother Jack from Miles
Soper. He seemed greatly interested, and said that he sincerely hoped
we might find Jack or hear of him, though he confessed that it was very
much like looking for a needle in a bundle of hay. Jim and I talked of
little else. We neither of us any longer thought of going home, but I
got a letter ready to send, by the first ship bound for England, to my
sister Mary, and another to Mr Troil, telling them that I had got
tidings of Jack, and much as I wished to get back, should stay out in
those seas till I found him.
My great wish now was to fall in with other whalers, that I might make
inquiries about my brother. The captain--though, I suppose, Dr Cockle
and Mr Griffiths told him what I had heard--seemed to take no interest
in the matter, nor did he show me any more attention than before.
We had left Juan Fernandez more than a month, when a cry came from the
masthead of "Land ho!" It proved to be Chatham Island, one of the
Galapagos, a group of volcanic islands almost under the line, some
hundred miles away from the coast of Peru. We brought up in a fine bay,
but the shore as far as we could see looked black and barren. There
were, however, thick, low bushes of a peculiar kind, covering the ground
at some distance from the beach. As Dr Cockle was going on shore with
one of the mates and a party of the men, he to botanise and they to
obtain fresh provisions, I went up to the captain and asked leave to
accompany him.
"I understand you have made up your mind not to run away," he observed,
in his usual sarcastic tone.
"Yes, sir," I answered; "I'm content to remain on board your ship,
though I know that I would until lately have done anything to get back
to England."
"Take care you don't change your mind," he said, in the same tone as
before. "If the doctor will be answerable for you, you can go."