Reading indoors was all very well, but they enjoyed lazing in the sand by the camp fire far better. The nights at present were nearly always fine. There was the glitter of stars or glimmer of moonlight on the quiet sea.
There were fire-flies and a hundred other phosphorescent things flitting or crawling in garden, trees, or bush; there was the soft whispering of the breeze through the branches; the lulling sound of falling waters on the far-off reef; and above all there was the companionship of the log fire itself, that somehow never failed to talk to Fred and Frank, and tell them tales of their British home.
Songs were never forgotten around the camp fire, and there is no saying how much good they did not effect. Why, those songs used to please even the savages, and it was amusing, if not affecting, to hear them join in singing "Home, Sweet Home," or "Auld Lang Syne."
Before the deck of the vessel was completely planked over, the ballast was carefully adjusted and fastened down to the sturdy boat's bottom.
While digging in the garden Quambo had come upon quite a store of a curious kind of amber-like gum. This was melted and mixed in a cask containing a reddish pigment kind of earth, and lo! a paint of a pitchy nature was formed, and every seam of the yacht, outside and in, was carefully done over with this twice, and they had the satisfaction of finding that it did not become too brittle when dry. The same red earth was mixed with oil and a portion of the gum, and formed an excellent paint to go over all the work with before the vessel was launched.
Two hatches were fitted, each having rough, short ladders descending to the hold, or fore-cabin and saloon, as Fred grandly termed them.
The rudder was next made, and properly and scientifically shipped, and a handy tiller adjusted. Then the mast and a short jibboom were stepped, and after this the vessel was ready for launching, for they longed to prove if she was seaworthy.
Fred could not remember ever having longed for anything half so much as he longed to see the yacht afloat, and if real shipbuilders are as anxious for some days before they succeed in launching their ventures, then they must have a very uneasy time indeed.
But the eventful morning arrived at last, and the vessel was duly christened, not with a bottle of wine it is true, but with the milk of a beautiful green cocoanut, and named the Island Queen.
"Let go all now!" cried Fred.