“No,” said Oliver, “but I feel so weak, and it seems to be so long before we get strong.”
“Oh, never mind that, my dear sir, so long as you are travelling on the right way. Patience, patience. Let’s get a few more days past, and then you’ll be running instead of walking, and getting such a collection together as will make us all complain about the smell.”
Oliver smiled sadly.
“Ah, but we shall,” cried the mate. “That’s what I like in Mr Drew’s collecting, he presses and dries his bits of weeds and things, and then shuts them up in books. Mr Panton’s work, too, is pleasant enough only lumpy. I shall have to get rid of the brig’s ballast and make up with his specimens of minerals to take their place.”
“Then you mean to get the brig down to the sea again?” said Oliver sharply.
Mr Rimmer took off his hat and scratched his head, as he wrinkled up his forehead and gazed with a comical look at the last speaker.
“I didn’t think about that,” he said sadly. “Seems to me, that the sooner we set about building a good-sized lugger the better, and making for some port in Java.”
“No, no,” cried Oliver; “there is no hurry. This is an exceptionally good place for our purpose, and we can all join hands at ship-building when we have exhausted the natural history of the island.”
“Very good, gentlemen, but in the meanwhile I shall strengthen our fort a little, so as to be ready for the niggers when they come again. I’ll get the carpenter at work to rig up planks above the bulwarks with a good slope outwards, so that they’ll find it harder to climb up next time they come.”
“Do you think they will come?” asked Panton, evincing more interest in the conversation.