“Why, because I’ve dreamed about being cast on a desolate island hundreds of times, and I’ve read about Robinson Crusoe, and all the other Crusoes, and I’ve longed to be cast on one, and now I am cast on one, so I don’t want to escape. It’ll be the greatest fun in the world. I only hope I won’t wake up, as usual, to find that it’s all a dream!”
Dominick laughed (not scornfully, by any means) at the boy’s enthusiasm; nevertheless he had strong sympathy with him, for the period had not passed so long ago when he himself entertained a very vivid impression of the romance of such a situation, and he did not trouble his mind about the stern realities.
“I sincerely hope it may come up to your expectations, Otto, my boy; nevertheless we must secure the boat for fishing purposes, even though we don’t try to escape in it.”
“For fishing! why, we have neither hooks nor lines.”
“True, lad; but we have got fingers and brains. It strikes me that we shall have occasion to use all our powers and possessions if we are not to starve here, for the reef seems to have very little vegetation on it, and there is sure to be a lagoon of water on the other side, separating it from the island beyond.”
“I wonder if there is fresh water on the reef,” said Otto, with a very sudden look of solemnity and pursing of the mouth.
“You may well ask that. I hope there is. We will go and settle the point the moment we have secured the boat, if—”
He stopped, for he saw at that moment that the sea had taken good care to secure the boat to itself as a plaything. Having dashed it into small pieces, it was by that time busily engaged in tossing these about among the foam, now hurling the splinters high upon the shore, anon sending up long watery tongues to lick them back, and then casting them under the incoming rollers, to be further reduced into what is usually styled matchwood.
There was a small bay close at hand, where the sandy beach was strewn with rocks, in which the sea appeared to play this game with unusual vigour. It was a sort of hospital for marine incurables, into which the sea cast its broken toys when tired of smashing them up, and left them there to rot.
Regarding this spot with a thoughtful look, Dominick remarked that the wreck which lay on the rocks off the tail of the island was by no means the first that had taken place there.