“I’m willing enough if the others are,” cried Oliver, “for it will be a treat to examine the strange tropical fish.”
“What about bait?” asked Drew.
“Oh, a bit or two of salt meat will do to begin with,” said the mate. “I daresay we can catch one or two with that. Then we shall be all right. There is no better bait than a bit of fresh fish to tempt others.”
“Plenty of shell fish, too, in the lagoon,” suggested Oliver.
“Of course, I had forgotten them. An hour’s time? Will that do?”
“Capitally,” they cried.
“Then I’ll go and see about the tackle and some bait for ourselves.”
In less than the suggested time the little party, with four of the sailors to help row and carry the provisions out, and any fish they might catch, back to the ship, were on their way to the shore.
It was a couple of weeks since Oliver’s return, and the eagerness to ascend the mountain was as strong with him as ever; but the attempt had been put off for the present, and in the interval plenty of collecting had been going on, and the mate had enough to do to make things what he called snug.
They passed a couple of pools on the way, and it was evident that they were rapidly drying up, for the shrinking of the water was visible at the edges, and the presence of crocodiles plain enough.