“What is to be done?” asked Glenarvan.
It was evident that raising the MACQUARIE was out of the question, and no less evident that she must be abandoned. Waiting on board for succor that might never come, would have been imprudence and folly. Before the arrival of a chance vessel on the scene, the MACQUARIE would have broken up. The next storm, or even a high tide raised by the winds from seaward, would roll it on the sands, break it up into splinters, and scatter them on the shore. John was anxious to reach the land before this inevitable consummation.
He proposed to construct a raft strong enough to carry the passengers, and a sufficient quantity of provisions, to the coast of New Zealand.
There was no time for discussion, the work was to be set about at once, and they had made considerable progress when night came and interrupted them.
Toward eight o’clock in the evening, after supper, while Lady Helena and Mary Grant slept in their berths, Paganel and his friends conversed on serious matters as they walked up and down the deck. Robert had chosen to stay with them. The brave boy listened with all his ears, ready to be of use, and willing to enlist in any perilous adventure.
Paganel asked John Mangles whether the raft could not follow the coast as far as Auckland, instead of landing its freight on the coast.
John replied that the voyage was impossible with such an unmanageable craft.
“And what we cannot do on a raft could have been done in the ship’s boat?”
“Yes, if necessary,” answered John; “but we should have had to sail by day and anchor at night.”
“Then those wretches who abandoned us—”