Their supper consisted of eggs and some quail that had got into the traps during their absence, and as they sat about their cozy fire up at the Cave, Marian felt that the day had been well spent.
It took considerable planning to contrive a sail for the raft. To begin with, there was nothing at all suitable for a mast, and, secondly, there was nothing suitable for a sail. The hatchet, too, was by this time very dull and needed a great deal of sharpening. Delbert said he had seen Indian canoes with an oar for a mast and a blanket for a sail, and they could use a blanket also and perhaps could make shift with a pole of some description in lieu of an oar; but even then it needed ropes, and they had used all theirs in lashing the raft together, and there were no more palm-leaves till more should grow. It was then they resorted to banana fiber entirely. It took considerable time to work it out nice and clean, but they finally got serviceable ropes of it. With a great deal of bracing and tying of crooked poles, they succeeded at last in rigging up a sail that very materially assisted them in making several other trips to the bird islands before the nesting-season was over.
But to carry live coals with them when they went away from the home island was a nuisance, and Marian did not want to use the matches except in case of absolute necessity. Besides, there was danger of getting them wet if they were taken on the raft, for nothing on that craft was sure of not receiving a bath sooner or later on every trip, and often everything and everybody got ducked several times; even what was in the barrel was not always secure.
The children wanted Marian to try building a fire with the crystal of her watch, but she did not want to take that off for fear of getting dirt in the works.
“But there are other ways,” she told them. “Our grandparents used to make fire with a flint and steel. Let’s watch for flints.”
“Why, I’ve got a flint now in my pocket,” said Jennie. “Carmelita gave it to me. She said her father lit his cigarettes with it, but he had bought him another one.” She produced a bit of stone as big as the end of her thumb.
Marian examined it.
“This is too small,” she said. “It has been used till it is nearly all chipped away; there is hardly enough of it left to hang on to.”
“Why won’t any stone do?” asked Jennie, as she pocketed her treasure.
“I guess because flint is harder than other stone. It has to be hard enough to shave off a little shaving of steel you know. That is what the spark is, a tiny shaving of steel that is afire.”