A Startler.
The strangeness of their position grew hourly to the crew of the Planet brig, and again and again the mate proposed plans for extricating themselves.
“It will take time,” he said, “but it would be far better than attempting the trip in open boats. I have had it over with the carpenter, and he thinks that we could build a small lugger—decked—of about the size of one of the Cornish mackerel craft. What do you gentlemen say to that?”
“I say it’s a capital idea,” said Oliver, and his companions endorsed his opinion.
“So I thought,” said the mate. “It will take a long time to tear up enough of the old brig, and to get the material down to the shore, but we shall all work with a will. I thought that we might make a hut under the cocoa-nut trees just opposite one of the openings in the reef, and as you agree that it’s a good plan, I propose beginning at once. Then we could sail east, west, or north, to one of the settlements.”
“But what’s the hurry?” said Oliver.
“Eh? Hurry? Why, we’re wrecked, sir, and I want to get afloat again.”
“But we don’t,” cried Oliver. “We could not be in a better place for our studies, and we shall want you to let us have the men to go with us upon expeditions and carry our collections.”
“But isn’t it rather too cool to sit down patiently here with our ship wrecked?”
“I haven’t found the place very cool, Mr Rimmer,” said Panton, smiling.