“Lovely, sir,” said the mate, drily. “What about my poor ship?”
“Yes, that is bad, but I wouldn’t mind losing a brig for the sake of reaching so wonderful a country.”
“Ah, that’s where I don’t agree with you, sir,” said the mate. “The place is very glorious, and it’s grand to get to a new country—where—”
“Look! look!” cried Oliver. “Mr Rimmer, your gun! Those birds with the long loose tails!”
“Eh? Well, I didn’t pull their tails and make ’em loose, sir. More likely the monkeys.”
“You’ve lost the chance,” cried Oliver, pettishly. “Didn’t you see? They were a kind of bird of paradise that I don’t think I have seen before.”
“Those were, sir?” said the mate, looking after the birds. “Well, I should have said they were a kind of crow.”
“Well, so they are, but very beautiful, all the same. You might shoot a few birds for me, and I could sit and skin and preserve them, then I should not feel that I was losing so much time.”
“Wait till Mr Drew comes back, sir, and begin in earnest to-morrow. I’ll shoot all I can then, and the men will be very glad of the birds without their skins, for they’re longing for fresh meat, and if we can, we must have another turn at the fish.”
“And we can’t go,” sighed Oliver. “I am so longing to study up those wonderfully-marked fish.”