Mark’s eyes twinkled as he saw the preparations. Palm leaves were spread in two places, but the food supply was the same for all; and if they were going to feed as well during their stay on the island, they felt that they would not have much cause to complain.
Food is so important a matter in our everyday life that, even without being sybarites, one may pause to give an account of the savage banquet prepared in the rock kitchen by the captain’s and major’s wives, aided by Mary O’Halloran, whilst the rest were busy hunting and building.
There was another fish secured by Small, similar to the one Mark had caught, about two dozen little roast cockatoos, and an ample supply of baked shell-fish. These delicacies were supplemented by plenty of cocoa-nut milk and wild fruit, some of which was delicious.
“I never had a better dinner in my life,” said the major. “It has been so good that I never once remembered our heavy fat Goura pigeons, which I had reckoned upon having for a treat.”
“I think we ought to compliment the cooks,” said the captain. “Poor Morgan quite enjoyed his fish, and Brown says he didn’t know cockatoos could taste so good.”
“I think we’ve fallen into a kind of Eden,” said Gregory pleasantly. “If we could find some tea-trees or coffee-bushes, and a wheat-field and windmill, we shouldn’t want anything more.”
“Ah!” said the captain gravely; “we should want a great deal more than those to make up for the loss of civilisation; but let’s try and do our best under the circumstances.”
“Why, we are doing it,” said Mrs O’Halloran with a smile.
“True, madam; and I thank you for your brave, true womanly help, both for the wounded and for my men.”
“Thank your wife too, captain,” said Mrs O’Halloran gravely.