“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 [pg 108]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.”