“To survey the rock, and see if it will do for occupation.”
“But nobody would want to live here, sir.”
“More likely have to die here, my lad. But we sailors are not allowed to ask questions. We are told to do things, and we do them.”
“I only wanted to know,” said Syd, apologetically.
“I was not finding fault, Belton. Now, let me see; we’ve got to land. Where’s the best place?”
As he spoke he altered the direction of the boat, which he kept a short distance from where the sea broke, and steered right round the rock, while his companion divided his time between examining the various ledges and gazing into the transparent depths below.
It was soon evident that landing would be rather difficult, only two places suggesting themselves as being feasible; one being like a rough pier, the other a spot where masses of coral rock run down into the sea, with here and there awkward, jagged-looking, scattered pieces showing their heads, sometimes just level with the water, and at others being completely covered.
After the boat had been completely round the rock, which apparently covered a space of some acres, the young officer gave the word, and the lead was thrown over to try for soundings and the possibility of there being good anchorage for a ship that might want to lay off the edge. But the lead went down, down, down to the end of the line wherever it was cast, even close in to the rock, indicating that it rose up almost steeple-like from profound depths.
“Soon settled that point, Mr Belton,” said the lieutenant. “The next thing is to land. Back in, my lads, on the swell, and as soon as we jump off pull clear again. I think we can do it yonder where the tuft of green weed is growing.”
The men obeyed, and after one or two cautious approaches, the young officer, who had carefully watched his time, sprang from the thwart before him right on to the rock, made a second bound, and was clear of the following wave before it had time to flood the natural pier.