The bright morning appeared to all as an augury of success; so it was with light hearts that they set out.
They abandoned Penguin Castle in all its entirety, Mr Meldrum saying that possibly they might have to seek its shelter again; but, if happily there should arise no occasion for that eventuality, the building might still be of service to other shipwrecked men in a like extremity to themselves. Thus it came to pass that the place was left “all standing,” with rooms, furniture—such as it was—Snowball’s copper and the cooking range all intact. Even the flagstaff with Kate’s ensign at the peak was left hoisted, as if to show, that if deserted now, the spot had once been inhabited!
They were thirty-two souls in all now, reckoning the steward and the other four men of the mutineers who had come back in the longboat—which had to be broken up, by the way, after all, to form the jolly-boat’s carriage; and it was just “six bells in the forenoon watch” when they started, a team of the sailors, tethered in traces like a pack of Esquimaux dogs, hauling away at the boat-carriage and running it along merrily with a chorus of “cheerily men, cheerily ho!” The others tramped behind the queer vehicular conveyance, without respect of persons; only poor Captain Dinks being allowed a seat in the boat, while it travelled on land, and that only by reason of his helplessness and inability to move without assistance. When they had to take to the water, of course, the jolly-boat would have to carry more passengers.
On the way, sometimes, they had serious difficulties to encounter, for the ground in many places was moist and spongy, causing the feet of the men hauling to sink deeply into the soil as they tugged at the towing-rope of the jolly-boat’s carriage; but, as frequently Mr Meldrum remarked, to rouse the seamen’s energies, “difficulties were only made for brave men to conquer,” so at it they went with a will which soon overcame the dead weight of the load they had to drag behind them—a fresh towing team relieving the first at the expiration of every half hour, so as not to weary the men out by a too prolonged strain at such unusual exertion.
Bye and bye, they arrived at the end of their first “portage,” the shores of the little lake which Mr Meldrum had noticed trending in an eastward direction. This water would now considerably aid their passage across the isthmus by allowing the jolly-boat to take to its native element, on whose bosom it would be borne some miles on the onward way.
Here a halt was called and a short luncheon taken, after which the jolly-boat was safely launched on the water by backing it down on its carriage. This plan was easy as well as expeditious; for, as soon as the boat had reached its proper point of immersion, it floated off the wheels.
The ladies then got into the stern-sheets, alongside of the captain, accompanied by Mr Meldrum, while four of the seamen took their places on the thwarts in order to row them across—the remainder of the party stopping where they were, along with a portion of the packages that had been removed from the boat so as to make room for Mrs Major Negus and the others who went with her. The carriage belonging to the boat was also left behind until the latter should have deposited its first cargo on the other side of the lake and return to fetch a fresh load.
Three trips were taken before the whole party were thus transported over the lake, the boat’s carriage being then towed over at the last crossing.
It would be needless repetition to recount in detail all the different portages of the jolly-boat over the strips of land which lay between the chain of lakes that were spread over the line of their route; or, to tell the number of the trips by water that had to be made.
There were many unloadings of the little craft, and many packings-up again.