"First and foremost, Fred, if we are going to build her close to the beach, we may reckon on getting our work all destroyed in the first gale of wind that blows; secondly, if we build her a safe distance from the sea, how are we to launch her?"
So no more was said about building a ship just then, but, nevertheless, the idea had taken root in the minds of all hands, and even Hurricane Bob pretended to look very wise when Cassia-bud broached the subject to him.
* * * * * *
It took our castaways three whole days to get their stores round to the place where the camp was, as they were mostly all removed by sea. But the planks of the wreck that they thought might one day come in handy were dragged off the beach, and piled in a heap far beyond the reach of the water.
While engaged at this work they suddenly came face to face with those awful brothers in death, the ironed skeletons. They were sitting on the beach, having evidently been floated out of the wreck on a piece of the deck. Sitting there bolt upright, their sightless eye-sockets turned towards the sea, the arm of one of them slightly raised, the fleshless fingers pointing towards the distant horizon.
"Why this is awful!" said Frank.
"Yes," said Fred, "and it seems to me those spectres will haunt us unless we bury them out of sight."
It was determined to do so at once therefore, and Magilvray and Fred set about digging a grave high up on the beach.
"Poor wretches," said Frank. "Suppose, Fred, we read the English burial service over them. They had sinned, but oh, they have suffered! Shall we?"
"You're a right good fellow, Frank. Yes."