“No, like a hinwalid who won’t take a bit of care of his tender bones. Lor’-a-mussy, how orbsnit youngsters can be! Don’t yer want to get well?”
“All right,” said Carey, gruffly. “Don’t drop me in the water: I’m precious heavy.”
“Now, is it likely, my lad?” growled the old fellow, taking the lad up gently and starting for the shore. “I’m not going to let you down, so don’t you—here, steady there—steady!”
Carey burst out into an uncontrollable roar of merriment, for Bostock’s right foot suddenly slipped on the slimy shell of one of the great pearl-oysters, and he was as near going headlong as possible; but by making a tremendous effort he saved himself and his burden and hurried panting to the shore.
“Have I hurt you, my lad?” he cried, excitedly, perspiration starting out in great drops on his face. “No, not a bit,” said Carey, merrily. “Phew! I thought I’d done it, sir. Now, you see, that comes of being too cocksure. Thought I knowed better, but I didn’t. Now, are you sure you aren’t hurt?”
“Quite, Bob,” said Carey, wiping his eyes. “Well, you needn’t laugh so much, sir.”
“I can’t help it,” cried Carey, indulging in another hearty burst. “There, I’m better now.”
The doctor, who had at once walked off towards the great grove of cocoanuts with a gun on his shoulder, now returned.
“Plenty of birds, Carey, my lad,” he said; “cocoanuts by the thousand, and through yonder, where you can hear it roaring, there is an ample supply of fresh water. You can see from here where it runs through the sand. Now, the first thing I want to know is whether we are on an island, and the second, have we any savage neighbours.”
“Let’s go up the hills and take a good look round then,” suggested Carey.