He did not look as if he would, but there was plenty of the spirit of determination in him, and he plodded on till they came in sight of the grove where the huts had been set up, and there in the first beams of the morning sun the ladies could be seen anxiously on the look-out for the lost ones, while, to mingle matter-of-fact with sentiment, there, from among the rocks rose up in the glorious morning the thin blue smoke of the so-called kitchen fire, telling of what was to follow after the welcome—to wit, a good breakfast of fruit and freshly-caught fish, with other delicacies, perhaps, by way of a surprise.
Safely back, and the night’s anxieties soon forgotten in the light of the sun, the storm having made everything seem bright, and by comparison peaceful and calm.
“Now, Mark,” said the captain after the refreshing sensation consequent upon a good bathe and a hearty meal, “you will be too tired to go in search of the ship to-day.”
To which Mark gave a most emphatic “No,” and declared himself quite ready for the start.
Chapter Thirty.
How Mark saw the Sea-Serpent.
“He’s about the most misfortnatest chap as ever was born, Jimpny is,” said Billy Widgeon. “He do get it bad and no mistake, allus.”
For the stowaway had been at once taken up to the hospital, as the shady spot under the cocoa-nut trees had to find him lying there looking already quite another man. Kindly hands had been busy with water and bandages; he was decently clothed, and the feverish haunted look had gone out of his eyes, as he lay chatting with the sailors under a capital shedding of palm leaves and bamboos, which had been rigged up just in time for the storm, and which, like the other huts, had proved fairly water-tight.