“Yes, do so; and then come back to me as soon as you can.”
The mate gave me the hammer, an article I had never seen before, and five or six nails, with which I returned to the cabin, and nailed up the sail as a screen.
“Now you will be able to sleep in your own bed-place to-night,” said she.
I made no reply; but I could not imagine why I could not have done so the night before, for I had only gone out of the cabin that she might not be frightened by Nero being so close to her.
After we had eaten our dinner, she said to me—
“How could you contrive to live on this island, if you had no dried birds?”
“How?” replied I; “why very badly. I might catch fish; but there are times in the year when you can catch no fish, they won’t take bait, neither will they when the weather is rough. Besides, I have only two lines, and I might lose them both—then what would become of me? I should starve.”
“Well, then, you see under all circumstances, it was just as well to plant the potatoes, for other people may come here and be in your position.”
“Yes, that is true, but we shall not be here long now, and you don’t know how glad I am to go. I want to see all the things that I have read about in my books. I want to go to England and look for somebody; but you don’t know all that I know; some day I will tell you all—everything. I am so tired of living here by myself—nothing to say—no one to talk to—no one to care for, except Nero, and he can’t speak. I can’t bear the idea of parting with him, though.”
“Would you rather stay on the island with Nero, than go away without him?”