Then slipping down the ladder, and picking up the birds, he brought them to me. One was a kind of thrush, the other a small dove called the ortolan, and esteemed a very great delicacy on account of its exquisite flavor. As the figs on which these birds came to feed were only just beginning to ripen, it was probable that they would soon flock in numbers to our trees; and by waiting until we could procure them in large quantities, we might provide ourselves with valuable food for the rainy season, by placing them, when half cooked, in cases with melted lard or butter poured over them.
By this time Jack had pointed a good supply of arrows, and industriously practiced archery. I finished the bow and arrows for Franz, and expected to be left in peace; but the young man next demanded a quiver, and I had to invent that also, to complete his equipment. It was easily done by stripping a piece of bark from a small tree, fitting a flat side and a bottom to it, and then a string. Attaching it to his shoulders, the youthful hunter filled it with arrows and went off; looking, as his mother said, like an innocent little Cupid, bent on conquest.
Not long after this, we were summoned to dinner, and all right willingly obeyed the call.
During the meal I interested the boys very much by proposing to decide on suitable names for the different spots we had visited on this coast.
"For," said I, "it will become more and more troublesome to explain what we mean, unless we do so. Beside which, we shall feel much more at home if we can talk as people do in inhabited countries: instead of saying, for instance, 'the little island at the mouth of our bay, where we found the dead shark,' 'the large stream near our tent, across which we made the bridge,' 'that wood where we found cocoanuts, and caught the monkey,' and so on. Let us begin by naming the bay in which we landed. What shall we call it?"
"Oyster Bay," said Fritz.
"No, no!—Lobster Bay," cried Jack, "in memory of the old fellow who took a fancy to my leg!"
"I think," observed his mother, "that, in token of gratitude for our escape, we should call it Safety Bay."
This name met with general approbation, and was forthwith fixed upon.
Other names were quickly chosen. Our first place of abode we called Tentholm; the islet in the bay, Shark's Island; and the reedy swamp, Flamingo Marsh. It was some time before the serious question of a name for our leafy castle could be decided. But finally it was entitled Falconhurst[2]; and we then rapidly named the few remaining points: Prospect Hill, the eminence we first ascended; Cape Disappointment, from whose rocky heights we had strained our eyes in vain search for our ship's company; and Jackal River, as a name for the large stream at our landing place, concluded our geographical nomenclature.