The day wore onwards to its close. The sun was approaching the vernal equinox, and sank almost perpendicularly on to the horizon. Twilight was very short, and the rapidity with which darkness came on confirmed Dick in his belief that they had got ashore at some spot lying between the tropic of Capricorn and the equator.
They all assembled in the grotto again for the purpose of getting some sleep.
"Another rough night coming on!" said Tom, pointing to the heavy clouds that hung over the horizon.
"No doubt, Tom!" answered Dick, "and I think we may congratulate ourselves on being safe out of our poor ship."
As the night could not be otherwise than very dark, it was arranged that the negroes should take their turns in keeping guard at the entrance of the grotto. Dingo also would be upon the alert.
Benedict had not yet returned. Hercules shouted his name with the full strength of his capacious lungs, and shortly afterwards the entomologist was seen making his way down the face of the cliff at the imminent risk of breaking his neck. He was in a great rage. He had not found a single insect worth having, scorpions, scolopendra, and other myriapoda were in the forest in abundance; but not one of these of course could be allowed a place in his collection.
"Have I come six thousand miles for this?" he cried: "have I endured storm and shipwreck only to be cast where not a hexapod is to be seen? The country is detestable! I shall not stay in it another hour!"
Ever gentle to his eccentricities, Mrs. Weldon soothed him as she would a child, she told him that he had better take some rest now, and most likely he would have better luck to-morrow.
Cousin Benedict had hardly been pacified when Tom remarked that Negoro too had not returned.
"Never mind!" said Bat, "his room is as good as his company."