The Three Admirals

by William Henry Giles Kingston

It was some time before Tom, who felt the responsibility of the undertaking resting on his shoulders, could go to sleep. He thought over what had to be done, and how he should act under the various circumstances which might occur.

Just as the first streaks of dawn appeared in the sky, he awoke. He immediately got up and went out to look at the state of the weather. As far as he could judge, from the sheltered position of the hut, it was as fine as it had been for some days past. “Thank Heaven, we shall commence our voyage under favourable auspices, at all events,” he said to himself. Then he shouted—

“Rouse up there, rouse up!” His companions were quickly on foot. Billy wanted to have breakfast immediately. Tom would not hear of it.

“No, no, we must get the cargo on board, and then we will take our last breakfast on the beach,” he answered.

The party now loaded themselves with the various articles which were to be taken from the hut. The heavier stores had been housed close to the beach. Tom took a look round to see that nothing was left behind. They then all set off to the boat, which floated in the calm water of the bay. Some time was occupied in loading her and stowing the stores judiciously away, so that those first required might be uppermost. Their live stock were the last articles carried on board, consisting of a couple of turtle, which they hoped would live and serve them for fresh provisions. The survivors of those in the pen they allowed to scramble back into the water, a proceeding at which Billy sighed deeply.

“Can’t we tow them after us,” he said, “or haul them on board as we might want them, or during calms make them tow us?”

“Bosh!” was the only answer Tom made to Billy’s remark. It was with considerable anxiety that Tom watched the depth to which the stores, as they were placed on board, gradually brought down the boat. They had still more water in cocoa-nuts and pigskins to bring on board. He, soon saw that should they meet with bad weather they might have to heave overboard a considerable portion; still, as long as the sea remained smooth, she was not considered much overloaded.

Pat having lighted a fire on the beach, the party sat down to take their last breakfast on the shore. It was a hearty one, it may be supposed, as after this they could not venture to have more than one hot meal in the day. They had found a small cooking apparatus on board the wreck, which could be heated either by an oil-lamp or by wood chips.

“All hands on board,” cried Tom at length. He stood the last on the beach. Having a gain cast an eye around to see that nothing was left behind, he once more gave a look at the boat. “She is indeed deep in the water—almost too deep,” he said to himself. “She will, however, I trust, weather any gale we are likely to meet with. We must, at all events, run the risk, and trust to providence to take care of us.”

Having cast off the warp, Tom waded out to the boat and got on board. Before giving the order to weigh anchor, he saw that everything was properly stowed, and that the chart, quadrant, and compass were in the locker ready for use. The wind in the bay was very light, but by the colour of the water outside, it could be seen that a breeze was blowing, though from what quarter it was difficult to determine.