MAKING THE BEST OF IT
Captain Spark and the sailor turned at the sound of Bob's voice.
The captain gave a joyful cry and started forward. But Tim Flynn,
the sailor, with a yell of fear, ran off down the beach in a
different direction.
"Here! Come back!" cried the captain, pausing. "What's the matter
with you, Tim?"
"Sure I don't want to meet no ghost!" exclaimed the man.
"Ghost? What do you mean?"
"Him," replied Tim, pointing a shaking finger at Bob. "Didn't we
see him drown, an' now ain't he here ahead of us to haunt us? Let
me go, cap'n."
He was about to run off again, but Bob, who began to understand the
superstitious rears of the man, called out:
"It's me, Tim! I'm alive, all right!"
The sailor paused, turned, and, after a long and rather doubting
look at the boy, came slowly bade.
"Well, maybe it's all right," he said, "but it's mighty queer.
How'd ye git here?"
"Swam until I struck land. But how did you get here, captain?" and
Bob clasped his relative warmly by the hand.
"Our boat must have been close to the island when it capsized,"
replied the former commander of the _Eagle_. "A big wave did the
business for us, and then it was every man for himself. Poor
Tarbill, he's lost, and so is Pete Bascom. We'll never see either
of 'em again. And I'm afraid the rest of the crew are gone, too.
No boat could live long in that sea."
"Mr. Tarbill is alive," said Bob.
"How do you know?"
"He's right behind those rocks. He didn't come on because he
feared you were cannibals. I'll call him."
Bob set up a shout, and in a few seconds the nervous passenger came
cautiously over the top of a pile of stones. When he saw Captain
Spark he was reassured and advanced boldly. There was a general
shaking of hands, and then the captain remarked:
"Well, now we're here we'll have to sec what we can find in the way
of food and shelter. I don't believe this island is inhabited. I
didn't know we were so near one. It isn't down on the charts."
"There is plenty of fish and fruit," said Bob, telling how he had
used his hook and line to advantage.
"Good!" exclaimed the captain. "I could eat a fish raw, I believe,
and my mouth is dry for need of some fresh water."
"Then come on to my camp," said Bob, proudly leading the way.
The captain could not but note the change in the boy. He had a
confident air about him now, as if he could take charge of matters.
The experience of the shipwreck, terrible as it had been, had
taught Bob some needed lessons. But he had yet more to learn.
While Captain Spark and Tim Flynn were wringing the water out of
their heavier garments Bob replenished the fire and soon had some
fish broiling, for he had caught more than he needed. It did not
take long to finish the simple meal, and then the captain spoke.
"We'd better take a survey of the island," he said, "to see what
sort of a place we've landed on. If there are any natives here we
want to know it. We also want to know what we can expect in the
way of things to eat and if there are animals on it. I don't
believe there are, however, as the place is too small."
"Let's start right away," proposed Bob. "Perhaps we can find some
driftwood, or something to make a hut of, though it's warm enough
to sleep out of doors without shelter."
"But not exactly safe in tropical countries," objected the captain.
"I hope we can construct some kind of a house. If we can't we'll
have to make the best of it, though, for we haven't any tools to
work with, except knives."
They started to make a circuit of the island. It was not very
large, being about two miles across. The center was thickly wooded
with tropical growth, and the captain was glad to note that there
were several varieties of good fruit, including a number of
cocoanut trees.
"If worst comes to worst we can make a hut of cocoanut leaves," he
said. "The natives often do that."
"Oh, dear! I hope there are no cannibals here," said Mr. Tarbill
at the mention of the word natives. "Suppose they should eat us
up?"
"They'd have to fight first," observed the captain grimly. "I'll
not be eaten without a struggle."
"But I never fought a cannibal in my life," objected the nervous
castaway. "I shouldn't know how to go about it."
"No more would I, but I'd soon learn. But don't think about such
things, Mr. Tarbill."
"I can't help it. I wonder how long it will be before we are
rescued?"
"That is a grave question," said the captain slowly. "I fear this
island is too far out of the regular course of ships to hope that
we will be picked up soon. We must make some kind of a distress
signal and hoist it where it will be seen. We'll do that as soon
as we have completed the circuit of the island."
It was long past noon, to judge by the position of the sun, when
they had circled the island and again reached the place where Bob
had built the fire. They had seen no signs of natives, nor any of
animals, though there might be small beasts.
"Well, we know what to expect now," said the Captain, as they sat
down under the trees to talk matters over. "We'll have to depend
for a living on fish, turtles, and fruit. We have no natives to
fear, and our situation is not so bad as it might be. Now we had
better set about matters in a shipshape and orderly fashion. In
the first place we will name our island. There's nothing like
having an address where your friends can write to you," he added,
with grim humor.
"Let's call it 'Lonely Land,'" suggested Bob.
"I have a better name," said the commander. "It is the custom to
call islands and mountains after the person who discovers them. I
propose that we name this 'Bob's Island,' for he discovered it
first."
"Aye, aye, sir!" cried Tim Flynn heartily.
Bob blushed and was about to protest, but, to his surprise, Mr.
Tarbill joined in and favored the proposition.
"That's settled, then," spoke the captain. "Now you needn't say
anything, Bob, we're three to one, and we're going to have our way.
So far so good. The next thing is to rig up our distress signal.
I'll leave that to Flynn. Tim, climb the highest tree you can find
and run up a signal."
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the sailor, saluting and starting off.
"Now then, we'd better catch some more fish for dinner," the
captain continued. "I'll leave that to you, Bob, and I'll build
another fire, for this one is out. Mr. Tarbill can go and see if
he can't catch a couple of turtles."
"Turtles! I never caught a turtle in my life!" exclaimed the
nervous man. "I'd be afraid to!"
"Not the least danger," the captain assured him. "All you have to
do is to get between them and the water as they're on the beach
sunning themselves and turn them on their backs. They'll stay
there until I can come and get them. It's time you learned to
catch turtles."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Mr. Tarbill. "I wish I was safe home!"
But the captain paid no attention to his protest.
"It'll do him good," he murmured, as the nervous one walked
dejectedly off. "He'll not have any nerves left when we get
through with him."
Bob had good luck with his hook and line and soon returned with a
dozen fine fish. In the meanwhile the captain had built a big fire
and had a bed of red coals ready to broil the fish over, for he
knew just how to do it.
When the dinner was in process of cooking Tim returned.
"Did you hoist the signal?" asked the captain.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"What did you use for a flag?"
"My shirt, sir."
"Your shirt?"
"Aye, aye, sir. You see I had two on, an outer shirt and an inner
shirt. I didn't need the outer shirt as it's so hot here, so I
hoisted that on top of a tall tree. It's flying in the breeze now,
sir. You can see it from here."
He led the way down to the edge of the water and pointed inland.
Sure enough, flying from a tall cocoanut tree was a white shirt.
It could be seen for a long distance.
"That's a fine idea," complimented the captain. "I forgot when I
sent you off that you hadn't any signal flag. But here comes Mr.
Tarbill. I wonder if he turned any turtles? Any luck?" he called
as the nervous man approached.
"No, sir. The turtles all ran when they heard me coming. Some of
them left a lot of eggs behind."
"Did you bring any?"
"No. I didn't think they were good."
"Good? Of course they're good! We'll gather some later. But come
on. It's long past dinner time and I guess we're all hungry."
Every one proved it by the manner in which he ate. The meal was a
primitive one, with sticks for forks, though they all had
pocket-knives, which answered very well to cut the fish. For
plates Captain Spark substituted large clam shells, in place of the
leaves Bob had used.
"Now I think we had better rig up some kind of a hut for shelter
against the night dews," proposed the captain, when they were done
eating. "Gather all the cocoanut leaves you can and I'll make a
sort of framework."
Bob started up, ready to go off into the forest after leaves, with
the sailor and Mr. Tarbill. As he gazed out to sea, where the big
waves were still rolling, he saw something that caused him to utter
a cry of astonishment.
"What is it?" asked Captain Spark, hurrying to Bob's side.
"There," replied the boy, pointing to some dark object that was
rising and falling on the swell.
"It's a boat! A boat capsized!" exclaimed Captain Spark. "We must
secure it. It's one from the _Eagle_. Probably the one we were
in."
"Shall I swim out to it?" asked Bob. "Perhaps I can tow it in."
"No, the current is setting toward the beach. It will drift in
presently."