The birds were standing about in crowds in the queerest and most ungainly attitudes in the world, croaking and barking, according to their usual wont, at the unexpected visitors who had so unceremoniously come to disturb the quietude of their island home. They looked excessively funny, waddling about awkwardly on their short legs and flapping their wings as if grumbling at the intrusion, much resembling a lot of little dumpy old women with grey tippets on; and Maurice Negus and Florry Meldrum went into fits of laughter at their appearance.
The penguins were not very busy at that time of year evidently.
They were simply idling about the beach and “loafing,” as if they had nothing particular to do but gossip with each other as to what meant the outlandish creatures, who had invaded their territory. Occasionally, two or three would proceed out together to fish in the quiet waters of the creek, and these would pass another party coming back from the same errand, when they would croak a greeting; but the majority did nothing but strut about from one position to another in order to stare the better at the intruders—an inspection which, it need hardly be told, the latter returned with an equal interest.
However, the survivors from the Nancy Bell had a good deal to do besides watching the penguins, for it was now late in the afternoon and growing dark, with the wind rising again. A few premonitory scattered flakes of snow, too, that fell flutteringly down in a half hesitating way every now and then, pointed out what the weather might be expected to be bye and bye and reminded them that it would be just as well for them to be under shelter of some sort before night came on to interrupt their labours.
A word from Mr Meldrum was sufficient, the first mate then giving the necessary orders for setting the whole party to work.
“All hands shift cargo!” he cried, stepping back upon the raft; when, the men following him, he divided them into two gangs, the first of whom he directed to carry out Mr Meldrum’s instructions under Frank Harness, while the second remained with him to remove the stores on to the beach, where Mr Adams supervised their landing. But, before anything else was done, the cot containing poor Captain Dinks—the only one who had not as yet been ashore—was carefully lifted up from the raft and transported to a spot high up from the water and shielded by a spur of the hills on the right from the winds. This Mr Meldrum had selected as a favourable place for their camp, and Snowball was already engaged there in building up a fire with some wood that he had fortunately brought from the wreck—for not a scrap of brush or twig, or the sign of any tree, could be seen in the neighbourhood of the fiord, nor a single bit of drift on the beach!
The stores being all landed and piled up on the shore some little distance beyond high-water mark, Mr McCarthy’s portion of the crew then proceeded to take the raft to pieces and carry up the timbers of which it was composed likewise to a place of safety, for fear lest the waves should bear them away in the night-time when the tide again came in; besides which, the material was wanted for other purposes—as Mr Meldrum had foreseen when causing the raft to be constructed—although it was now too late in the day to utilise it to that end, for, even while they were landing the things, the evening had closed in and it was nearly dark.
Meanwhile, the second body of men, working under Frank Harness’s direction and Mr Meldrum’s personal supervision, were equally industrious.
The site for the camp having been chosen, a couple of the largest spars that had been brought ashore on the raft were erected as uprights, some twenty feet apart, close under the scarp of the cliff; and a block and running tackle having been previously attached to the top of each of these, a third spar was hoisted up and lashed across them at right angles. After this, a spare top-sail, which had been brought with them in the jolly-boat, was pulled over the framework; and, the ends of this being tied down by the reef points to stout pegs driven in the ground, the structure formed a good sized tent which would do well for temporary accommodation for a night or two. Of course, something more substantial would be required if the shipwrecked people were forced to remain long on the island—which, indeed, seemed more than probable, considering the time of year, and the faint hope of their rescue by any whaling vessel before the month of November.
“I guess it air prime,” said Mr Lathrope, looking at the tent with much satisfaction as he walked round it. He evidently took considerable pride in the construction, in which, indeed, he had some share, his experience “out west” having been of great use in suggesting the shape and location of the shelter.