Leslie thereupon cautiously administered a further small quantity of the liquid, which the man eagerly swallowed, and at once asked for more; but gently laying him down on his back, with the promise that he should have more a little later on, Dick next turned his attention to the second man, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing him also restored to consciousness. Having achieved this much of success, Leslie now aroused Flora, and, briefly explaining to her the circumstances of the case, turned the two castaways over to her care, with instructions to give them, alternately and at brief intervals, small quantities of drink and food, while he devoted his attention to the catamaran and the task of navigating her back into the harbour. Meanwhile the little raft, with her ghastly cargo, went driving away to the northward and westward before the wind and the sea, and was soon lost to sight.
As the catamaran skirted close along the weather side of the reef, Leslie noticed that the brig had burnt herself out; for there was not the faintest whiff of smoke rising from the spot where she had lain. On the other hand, a thin pennant of light yellowish brown vapour was trailing away to leeward from the summit of the peak, showing that the eruption up there was still in progress. Dick was much comforted, however, to find that, even now, when he was so close in with the land, he could detect no evidences of disturbance by the earthquake on the southern slope of the mountain; and he began to cherish the hope that he would find the dockyard and camp uninjured. And this hope became a practical certainty when, upon passing through the entrance channel, the camp came into view, and he beheld not only the tent still standing as he had left it, but the framework of the cutter erect upon the stocks and apparently uninjured. Twenty minutes later the catamaran slid into her usual berth and gently grounded upon the sandy beach.
First assisting Flora to step ashore, and tenderly supporting her to the tent—to which he welcomed her back with a loving embrace—Dick next conducted the two rescued men to the hut that had originally been built and occupied by Sambo and Cuffy, into which he inducted them, with the intimation that they were to regard it as their future quarters. They were by this time so far recovered that both could walk, with a little assistance. Leslie therefore thought that he might now venture to give them a light meal, with a reasonable quantity of liquid to wash it down; and, this done, he recommended them to lie down and sleep for a while after they had refreshed themselves, and so left them.
As he walked from the hut down to the spot that he dignified with the name of The Dockyard, Leslie ruefully noted that the savages had played havoc with his belongings in their hurried search for booty; but as the havoc appeared to consist in a general capsizal of everything rather than in actual damage, and as the few matters that they had appropriated still remained aboard the captured canoe, he consoled himself with the assurance that, after all, there was not very much to worry about—excepting, of course, the terror and suffering to which Flora had been exposed, and the killing of poor Sailor, both of which filled him with bitter grief and anger.
As he passed on his way he detected evidences here and there of the fact that the island had not escaped altogether unscathed from the effects of the earthquake, small cracks in the ground showing here and there that had not heretofore existed; and when he reached the dockyard he found that two or three of his shores had been shaken down, leaving the cutter somewhat precariously supported; but to his infinite relief no actual damage had been done, and a couple of hours of hard work sufficed to put everything quite right once more. Then he returned to the tent, and, finding that Flora was lying down, he seized the opportunity to bury the body of the faithful dog out of her sight ere lying down himself to snatch an hour or two of much-needed sleep.
When he awoke, which he did of his own accord, the afternoon was well advanced; and upon emerging from the tent he discovered that not only was Flora up and stirring, but that she had routed out from their ample store of clothing a couple of suits to replace the rags in which the two castaways had been garbed when rescued; and that these two individuals, having washed and dressed, were now sitting in the sun, smoking—Flora having also supplied them with pipes and tobacco—and looking about them with mingled curiosity and surprise. As he approached them, with the view of eliciting from them the particulars of their story, they rose somewhat unsteadily to their feet, and while one lifted his cap in salute the other took his off altogether and lifted his finger to his forehead as he gave an awkward kick out astern with one leg, in true shellback style. That they were both English Dick had already ascertained; he therefore did not go through the formality of inquiring their nationality, but at once addressed them in his and their own language.
“Well, lads,” he exclaimed cheerfully, “I hope you are feeling better?”
“Thank you, sir,” answered the one who had lifted his cap, “yes, we are beginning to pull round again all right. And I am glad to have this early opportunity to thank you on behalf of myself and the bo’sun here for the service you’ve done us in taking us off the raft and bringing us ashore here. You’ve saved our lives, sir; there’s no mistake about that, and we’re both very much obliged to you, I’m sure.”
“Ay, ay; right ye are, Mr Nicholls; very much obliged indeed we are; and that’s puttin’ the matter in a nutshell,” supplemented the second man, with another sea-scrape of his foot.
Leslie was agreeably surprised at these men’s appearance, now that they had removed from their persons the most repulsive evidences of their late misfortune, for whereas when he had taken them off the raft they were a pair of perfect scarecrows, mere skeletons, dirty, and in rags, they now—although still of course thin, haggard, and cadaverous-looking—wore the semblance of thoroughly honest, trustworthy, and respectable seamen. One of them, indeed, the younger of the two, who had been addressed by his companion as “Mr Nicholls,” presented the appearance of a quite exceptionally smart young sailor, and Leslie at once put him down for—what he presently proved to be—the second mate of the lost ship. As for the other, Nicholls had spoken of him as “the bo’sun;” and he looked it—an elderly man, of burly build no doubt when in health, straightforward and honest as the day, and a prime seaman; “every finger a fish-hook, and every hair a ropeyarn.” Leslie felt delighted beyond measure at the acquisition of two such invaluable assistants as these men would certainly prove so soon as they had recovered their lost strength.