It was a trifling disadvantage, that these recesses, which were of varying depth, were rather dark during the day, and that the cave itself was never very light. For, except in bad weather, it would only be occupied at night. At earliest dawn Captain Gould would be carried outside, to drink in the salt, invigorating air and bask in the sunshine.
Inside the cave Jenny arranged to occupy one of the recesses with her husband. A larger one, sufficient to accommodate all three of them, was taken possession of by James Wolston and his wife and little Bob. Frank contented himself with a corner in the large hall, where he shared the company of the skipper and the boatswain.
The remainder of the day was given up entirely to rest. The boat’s passengers had to recuperate after the many emotions of this last week and the awful trial they had endured so bravely.
Wisdom dictated their resolution to spend a fortnight in this bay, where material existence seemed to be secured for some time to come. Even if the Captain’s condition had not required that they should do so, John Block would not have advised an immediate departure.
In the evening, after a second meal of turtle soup, and turtle flesh and eggs, Frank led them in prayer, and all went into the cave. Captain Gould, thanks to the ministrations of Jenny and Dolly, was no longer shaking with fever. His wound now closing, gave him less pain. He was progressing rapidly towards complete recovery.
To keep a watch during the night was needless. There was nothing to fear on this lonely shore, neither savages nor wild beasts. It was unlikely that these gloomy and depressing wastes had ever been visited by man before. The stillness was only broken by the harsh and melancholy cry of the sea-birds as they came home to their crannies in the cliff. The breeze died gradually away, and not a breath of air stirred till the rising of the sun.
The men were out at daybreak. First of all John Block went down the beach along the promontory and made for the boat. It was still floating but would soon be left high and dry by the ebb tide. Being fastened by hawsers on both sides, it had not bumped against the rocks, even when the tide was at its highest, and as long as the wind continued to blow from the east it could come to no harm. In the event of the wind veering to the south they would see if it was necessary to look for other moorings. Meantime the weather seemed to be definitely set fair, and this was the fine season.
When he got back the boatswain sought out Fritz and spoke to him about this.
“It’s worth giving a little thought to,” he said. “Our boat comes before everything else. A snug cave is fine. But one doesn’t go to sea in a cave, and when the time comes for us to leave—if it ever does come—it’s important that we shouldn’t be prevented from doing so.”
“Of course, Block,” Fritz answered. “We will take every possible care to prevent the boat coming to harm. Do you think perhaps there is a better mooring for her on the other side of the promontory?”