Part 26 (1/2)
Sure enough, flying from a tall cocoanut tree was a white s.h.i.+rt.
It could be seen for a long distance.
”That's a fine idea,” complimented the captain. ”I forgot when I sent you off that you hadn't any signal flag. But here comes Mr.
Tarbill. I wonder if he turned any turtles? Any luck?” he called as the nervous man approached.
”No, sir. The turtles all ran when they heard me coming. Some of them left a lot of eggs behind.”
”Did you bring any?”
”No. I didn't think they were good.”
”Good? Of course they're good! We'll gather some later. But come on. It's long past dinner time and I guess we're all hungry.”
Every one proved it by the manner in which he ate. The meal was a primitive one, with sticks for forks, though they all had pocket-knives, which answered very well to cut the fish. For plates Captain Spark subst.i.tuted large clam sh.e.l.ls, in place of the leaves Bob had used.
”Now I think we had better rig up some kind of a hut for shelter against the night dews,” proposed the captain, when they were done eating. ”Gather all the cocoanut leaves you can and I'll make a sort of framework.”
Bob started up, ready to go off into the forest after leaves, with the sailor and Mr. Tarbill. As he gazed out to sea, where the big waves were still rolling, he saw something that caused him to utter a cry of astonishment.
”What is it?” asked Captain Spark, hurrying to Bob's side.
”There,” replied the boy, pointing to some dark object that was rising and falling on the swell.
”It's a boat! A boat capsized!” exclaimed Captain Spark. ”We must secure it. It's one from the _Eagle_. Probably the one we were in.”
”Shall I swim out to it?” asked Bob. ”Perhaps I can tow it in.”
”No, the current is setting toward the beach. It will drift in presently.”
CHAPTER XXI
MORE ARRIVALS
All interest in building a hut was temporarily forgotten as the four castaways watched the slow approach of the boat. As it came nearer it was seen to be the captain's gig, in which Bob and his friends had left the ill-fated _Eagle_.
”Do you think there'll be anything left in her?” asked Bob.
”There will, unless she is smashed,” replied Mr. Spark. ”The lockers, in which most of the supplies were packed, are water-tight and securely fastened. This is a piece of good luck, if the boat is not stove in. She has turned bottom up, but she may still be sound. She'll soon be here.”
When the gig was close enough so that they could wade out to it, Bob and Tim Flynn rolled up their trousers and went through the shallow surf. The beach gradually shelved at this point and they could wade out nearly a quarter of a mile at low tide.
”She's all right, cap'n!” called the sailor, when he and Bob reached the small craft. ”Sound as a dollar, and the lockers are closed,” he added as the boat rolled partly over.
”Good!” cried the commander. ”Pull her in as close as you can and we'll unload her. Then we'll get her above high-water mark. This boat may save our lives.”
”How?” asked Mr. Tarbill.
”Why, when the sea goes down we can leave the island in her.”