“Yes, we’re safe enough here—’s long as the wind’s blowin’ as ’tis now, an’ I guess it allers does blow that way, round this speck of an island. It must be all o’ five mile to that land either side, an’ in their rickety canoes the Feweegins never venture fur out in anythin’ o’ a rough sea. I calculate, Captain, we needn’t trouble ourselves much about ’em—leastways, not jest yet.”
“Ay—but afterward?” murmurs Captain Gancy, in a desponding tone, as his eyes turn upon those by the boat.
“Wal, sir,” says the old sealer, encouragingly, “the arterwards ’ll have to take care o’ itself. An’ now I guess I’d better determine ef thar ain’t some way o’ helpin’ Caesar to a spark o’ fire. Don’t look like it, but looks are sometimes deceivin’.”
And, so saying, he strolls off among the bunches of tussac-grass, and is soon out of sight.
But it is not long before he is again making himself heard, by an exclamation, telling of some discovery—a joyful one, as evinced by the tone of his voice. The two youths hasten to his side, and find him bending over a small heath-like bush, from which he has torn a handful of branches.
“What is it, Chips?” ask both in a breath.
“The gum plant, sure,” he replies.
“Well, what then? What’s the good of it?” they further interrogate. “You don’t suppose that green thing will burn—wet as a fish, too?”
“That’s jest what I do suppose,” replied the old sailor, deliberately. “You young ones wait, an’ you’ll see. Mebbe you’ll lend a hand, an’ help me to gather some of it. We want armfuls; an’ there’s plenty o’ the plants growin’ all about, you see.”
They do see, and at once begin tearing at them, breaking off the branches of some, and plucking up others by the roots, till Seagriff cries, “Enough!” Then, with arms full, they return to the beach in high spirits and with joyful faces.