“Why, then, we not build canoe?” he said. “It take time, but it can be done.”
“But I have only my knife to do it with,” I said.
“But I have knife too,” he said, drawing out a longish weapon from his belt.
Still I thought with such weapons our object could not be attained. Two days after that, as I was walking on the beach, I saw something sticking up in the sand. I was going to pass it carelessly, when I thought it was a piece of wrought wood. I went towards it, when great was my astonishment, and greater still my satisfaction, to find that it was a Malay axe, which had been left by the pirates in the sand. I called to Macco, who was at a little distance. “Dere, dere!” he exclaimed. “Now no difficulty. I use dat well, and build boat.” At first I proposed making a dug-out, but Macco said he had often assisted in boat-building, and that a plank boat would be far superior.
“But how are we to get the planks?”
“Oh,” he said, “I split some of de trees, and work dem down.”
“But that would take so very long,” I observed.
“Neber mind, Massa Walter. Long time come to end, and work done.”
His courage raised my spirits, and I now determined to set heartily to work in carrying out our proposed undertaking. Several days passed away, and some progress had been made. Macco had already cut down a tree, and formed some wedges to split it up with, when one morning, while he was at his work, I agreed to go down to the beach to look for some shell-fish or crabs as a variety to our food. No sooner did I reach it than my eye caught sight of a white sail shining in the morning sun. I rubbed my eyes. I could not be mistaken. No; there was a European vessel, I was sure of it, with a single mast. Could she be the cutter which my friends had proposed building? Were they on their homeward voyage, or were they coming to look for me? Perhaps, after all, the island where I now was might be at no great distance from theirs. Perhaps they were sailing away, having given me up in despair. I could not move from the spot, but kept gazing and gazing at the sail to ascertain whether it was approaching. Yes, yes; I was sure it was. On it came. The breeze freshening, the seas rolled in on the beach. Nearer and nearer drew the cutter. I ran down to the water, and waved my hands and shouted. They could not have heard me, but yet they came in directly towards where I was standing. Presently I saw the sails brailed up, and now a boat, with several people in her, put off from the vessel. They approached. Mr Hooker was in the stern. The boat’s head was turned round, so as to allow her to drop in through the surf. I rushed in towards her, and burst into tears as I shook my kind friend’s hand, and helped him to spring on shore.
“My dear boy, you are safe! We had given up almost all hope of finding you, when we picked up your boat!” he exclaimed.