The boatswain’s shrill pipe was heard just then, and a boat’s crew was summoned to take an exploring party ashore.
To Don’s great delight, he and Jem formed part of the boat’s crew; and at last he felt that he was to see something of the beautiful place, which grew more attractive every time he scanned the coast.
This time the captain was going to land; and, as the men were provided with axes, it seemed that they were about to make their way into the woods.
The natives had been most friendly, bringing off and receiving presents; but, all the same, no precautions were omitted to provide for the safety of the ship and crew.
It was a glorious morning, with hardly a breath of wind stirring, and the savages were lolling about on the shore. Their canoes were run up on the sands, and there was an aspect of calm and repose everywhere that seemed delightful.
But the boat’s crew had little time given them for thinking. The captain and a midshipman of about Don’s age took their places in the stern sheets, Bosun Jones seized the tiller, the word was given, the oars splashed the water simultaneously, and the boat sped over the calm surface of the transparent sea, sending the shoals of fish darting away.
The boat’s head was set in quite a fresh direction, and she was run ashore a little way from the mouth of a rushing river, whose waters came foaming down through blocks of pumice and black masses of volcanic stone.
As the boat’s head touched the shore, the men leaped over right and left, and dragged her a short distance up the black glistening heavy sand, so that the captain could land dry-shod.
Then preparations were made, arms charged, and Bosun Jones gave Don a friendly nod before turning to the captain.
“Will you have this lad, sir, to carry a spare gun for you?”