“‘IT’S ALL RIGHT, MIKE. MY GRANDFATHER RAN HIS RAFT ASHORE IN JUST THE SAME WAY.’”
We should have been in a nice scrape if the tide had been falling, but as it was rising, I knew the raft would float after a while. But I was not going to stay on it and do nothing for an hour or two, so I waded ashore and swam out to the ship. The wreckage of the main-mast was still floating alongside, although most of the other spars had gone adrift while the ship was on the reef. I cut the wreckage clear of the ship, and then by standing on it, and hauling in the line that I had made fast to the shore, I got the whole lot close up to the beach, and carried a rope from it to a tree, so that it could not go adrift again unless it should come on to blow a gale.
By the time I got back to the raft it was afloat again, and we soon got the cargo ashore. It was about time for dinner, and I built a fire, fried some of the ham that Mr. Crusoe would call dried goat’s flesh, and brought a jug of water from the creek about half a mile farther up, where the water was fresh. We had a very good dinner, and Mr. Crusoe did not find any fault with the plates, though he would occasionally grumble a little to himself about the mattresses.
We were too tired to make another trip to the wreck that day, and Mr. Crusoe’s ankle that was sprung still hurt him so much that he said he must lie down a while. He wouldn’t lie on a mattress, but he lay on the sand in the shade, and we both went to sleep for the rest of the afternoon.
CHAPTER III.
When we woke up, the sun was nearly down, and I told Mr. Crusoe we must hurry to get on board the ship before dark.
“What do you want to go on board the ship to-night for?” he asked.
“Why, to sleep, of course,” said I.
He looked really unhappy, and said, “Mike, I’m afraid you’re not quite right in your mind. The idea of going back and sleeping on that wreck! My grandfather slept on shore, and so will we.”