By a natural transition of thought I next turned my attention to the land which stretched north and south athwart the bows of the wreck. A great belt of smooth water, averaging some two miles in width, lay between the reef and the beach of dazzling white sand, both extending to right and left as far as the eye could see. To the south the land seemed to dip out of sight below the horizon, but northward it appeared to terminate in a high headland which I estimated to be about eighteen miles distant; I considered, therefore, that the island must measure, from north to south, at least forty miles. What it might measure from east to west was not to be easily determined, but the summits of the most distant range of hills appeared to be nearly or quite twenty miles distant; and how much land lay beyond them it was of course impossible to guess. The description of the island which Billy had given me, several days earlier, was quite a good one. There was the far-stretching ribbon of white beach, bordered on its inshore margin by innumerable cocoa-nut palms, beyond which the land rose gently, in irregular folds, to the hills in the rear, every inch of soil, apparently, being clothed with vegetation of some sort, chiefly trees, many of which seemed—as seen through the ship’s telescope—to be smothered in blossoms of varied and most beautiful hues. I subjected every foot of the land in sight to a most rigorous scrutiny through the lenses of the telescope, in search of some indication of inhabitants, but could find nothing; no cleared and cultivated land, no smoke, suggestive of dwellings, no canoes on the beach, no moving figures; to all appearances, indeed, the gulls, pelicans, and other aquatic birds that wheeled and screamed over the lagoon and dived into its waters might be the only life on the island.
“Well, Mr Blackburn, what do you think of it?” demanded Billy, when at length I lowered the telescope from my eye.
“It is wonderful,” I declared. “I am amazed. I simply cannot understand it. That island is quite a big place. There is nothing in the least like it shown on the chart anywhere near the spot which it actually occupies, yet how it has so far escaped the notice of the hydrographers is a puzzle to me. The matter, however, which most concerns us is that, viewed from here at least, it appears to be a sufficiently desirable place, on which we ought, without difficulty, to find ample means of subsistence. How does the idea of living ashore there for a time appeal to you?”
“Oh, I say!” exclaimed Billy, “that will be splendid! Just think of the jolly times we shall be able to have, huntin’ wild beasts, fightin’ the savages, and havin’ all sorts of splendid adventures.”
“Well,” I said, “some of those things may possibly come our way, but we really want no excitements of that sort, Billy boy. Of course, we are all right where we are, so long as the wreck holds together and remains habitable; but the trouble is that we don’t know how long that may be. Another such gale as placed us here might send such a tremendous sea pouring in over the reef as to wash the old hooker off the reef into the lagoon, where she would quickly founder—which is the reason why I consider that we must establish ourselves ashore as soon as possible.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Billy, “I never thought of that. Do you really think, Mr Blackburn, that there’s a chance of the wreck sinking?”
“It is quite possible,” I replied, “although I have known cases where stranded wrecks have remained for years undisturbed. Still the possibility must be recognised and provided against, wherefore it is of the utmost importance that we lose no time in getting ourselves safely settled ashore.”
“Then, what do you propose to do, sir?” demanded Billy.
“The moment that I am strong enough to do any work,” said I, “I shall start to build some sort of a craft in which we can ferry ourselves across the lagoon and explore the island in search of a suitable spot upon which to pitch our camp. After that, everything will depend upon the conditions on which we find it possible to live. But one condition is of paramount importance; we must establish ourselves where a clear view of the open sea can be obtained, and from which it will be possible to signal to any ship that may heave in sight. And now, Billy, do you happen to know whether there is any timber aboard, out of which it would be possible for me to build a boat without the preliminary necessity to start breaking up the Yorkshire Lass?”
“Why—yes—I—I believe—there is,” answered Billy hesitatingly. “I can’t say for certain, but I seem to remember hearin’ Dad say something about buyin’ some planks as a stand-by in case of repairs of any sort bein’ needed; and I believe I saw some planks and scantlin’ down in the fore hold a bit later, while the ship was still in dock. If the timber’s aboard anywhere, that’s where you’ll find it, Mr Blackburn.”