“Try it,” said the doctor, and the raft was steered between the long ridges of coral, whose points stood just out of the water. Carey had the satisfaction of seeing that there was a shoal of fish being driven along the watery passage to the shallow at the end, over which they splashed and floundered till they reached deep water again and swam away.
“Some o’ they would have done for the frying-pan, sir, if we’d had a net handy,” said Bostock. “We must come prepared another time.”
The raft grounded the next minute in what seemed to be a magnificent marine aquarium, into the midst of whose wonders the old sailor stepped to mid-thigh, crunching shells and beautiful pieces of coral in a way which made Carey shiver.
“All right, sir, there’s millions more,” he said, coolly. “Now, doctor, there’s no need for you to step down,” he continued; “it’s wonderful slimy, and there’s shells and things sharp enough to cut through your boots. You give me the guns and basket, and I’ll take ’em up on the sands and come back for you. I’m more used to the water than you are.”
The doctor nodded and handed the two double guns they had brought, along with the basket of provisions, with which Bostock waded ashore, returning directly to take the doctor on his back, after which he came again for Carey.
“Hadn’t I better wade ashore?” said the boy; “one ought to get used to this sort of thing.”
“After a bit, my lad,” said Bostock, shaking his head. “You get used to growing quite well first. Now then, you stand up close here, and I’ll nip you ashore in no time.”
“Well, turn round then; I can’t get on your back like that.”
“You’re not going to get on my back, my lad. I’m going to take you in my arms and carry you.”
“Like a little child,” cried Carey, pettishly.