“I’m glad you think so, sir. Jack does, and so does old Bruff; and as for David Jimpny, ‘Let me live and die here,’ he says, ‘for I didn’t know as there was such places in the world.’ But Mr Small says ‘No,’ he says, ‘We’ve got to make that there boat,’ he says, and he’s a nigger-driving all day long. Blow the boat! I wish as it had never been begun, and the gig was burned.”
But the making of the boat progressed, and at the end of six months from their landing she was finished, fitted with stores, and lay in Crater Bay ready for the projected voyage.
This readiness was welcome and unwelcome, for though the idea of getting back to civilisation was gladdening for some reasons, and the captain longed to give an account to the owners of the Petrel of his misfortune, and to get a vessel and men from Singapore to try and save all possible of her lading, there was something painful in the idea of giving up their deliciously calm and peaceful life.
“I shall never get such shooting again,” said the major. “But duty, duty. ’Tention!”
“It has been a pleasant life,” said Morgan thoughtfully. “I don’t think I could have recovered from that wound any where else so soon.”
“Yes, it’s pleasant,” said Mr Gregory, “but one can’t study oneself. I’ve got a wife at home, who must think me dead.”
“And I have someone waiting who is to be my wife,” said Morgan, “and she must think me dead.”
The men could not hear these words, or several of them could have spoken similarly; and somehow, in spite of the beauty of the place and the abundance, with the sun shining constantly, England mentally seen from a distance began to appear more and more attractive, and the time was coming when the place would be wearisome.
One day, while they were still halting before making a start, the captain wishing to make a few more additions to their vessel and then take her on a trial trip before venturing with all on board so far, the signal for starting came in a very unexpected manner.
David Jimpny, who had grown to be one of the strongest and healthiest looking of the men there, proved still to be one of the most useless as far as helping in matters nautical. But in anything relating to trips inland he was invaluable. There was so much of the vagabond spirit in him that he liked nothing better than being sent off inland to collect palm tops or shoots for cooking like vegetables. These he would get and bring into camp, and, what was more, try experiments on other promising things. He would come back hot and scratched, but generally with an eager look in his eyes as he had to announce the discovery of some fruit-tree of which there was an abundance, but almost invariably hidden in the depths of the jungle.