"Why so anxious to know the time, old man?" inquired Mostyn. "You haven't to go on watch."

"Never you mind, old son," rejoined the Acting Chief. "In due course I'll enlighten your mind on the subject, but until then--nothin' doin'."

For the next ten minutes conversation drifted into other channels.

Peter had almost forgotten about the mysterious inquiries of Mr.

Preston, when the latter inquired abruptly:

"What do you think is our position, Sparks?"

"About fifty miles west of Madagascar," replied Peter.

The Acting Chief shook his head.

"Wrong, my festive. Absolutely out of it," he stated with conviction.

"Say a hundred and fifty miles to the south'ard of Cape St.

Mary--that's the southern-most point of Madagascar--and you won't be far out."

"But, why----?" began the astonished Wireless Officer.

"Hold on," continued Preston. "It's now mid-summer in the Southern Hemisphere. Consequently the sun must be overhead, or nearly so, on the Tropic of Capricorn. Here, at midday, it's roughly five degrees north of our zenith. That means we're well south of the island you were making for."

"But how's that?" demanded Mostyn. "I steered due east, and when the wind headed us I tacked for equal periods."

"Maybe you did," rejoined the Acting Chief drily. "You don't know the deviation of the boat's compa.s.s. Neither do I, for that matter. It might be points out on an easterly course. Again, there's a strong current setting southward through the Mozambique Channel. Another and by no means inconsiderable factor is that almost every boat when close-hauled sails faster on one tack than the other. The net result is that, unconsciously, you were faced well to the south-east instead of making due east. However, here we are, and we must make the best of it. Everything considered, old man, you haven't done so badly."

By dusk everything was in order so far as their limited resources permitted, even to the extent of building a light breastwork on the windward side of the camp to protect the tents from storms from seaward. The strenuous labours had kept the castaways' minds so fully occupied that they had had no time to think about their difficulties.

Tired in body, yet cheerful in mind, they slept the sleep that only the healthy can enjoy.

CHAPTER XXIX

Repairs and Renewals

At sunrise on the following morning Peter scaled the highest point of the island, hoping that in the clear air his range of vision would be increased sufficiently to make out land.

He was disappointed. Nothing of the nature of land was in view. The horizon, clear and well defined, surrounded him in an unbroken circle.

He was considerably troubled in his mind over the situation. Desert islands were all very well in their way, provided there was a chance of getting away from them. Evidently this island was well out of the regular steamer track, while sailing vessels, running between The Cape and India and the Federated Malay States, would pa.s.s well to the eastward in order to take full advantage of the monsoons.

The boat was practically useless as a means of leaving the island. Had there been a supply of nails in the locker, Peter would not have hesitated to fasten a sheet of painted canvas over the holes in the garboards, and then risked a dash for Madagascar. But without suitable material that was out of the question.

Naturally of an inventive turn of mind, Peter thought out half a dozen plans to make the boat seaworthy; but, as fast as he worked out a solution of the difficulty, objections apparently insurmountable caused him to reject the scheme and start afresh on another tack.

His previous error in navigation rather damped his enthusiasm, but with Preston on the road to recovery he was no longer dependent on himself.

The Acting Chief had had years of experience of the Indian Ocean, and, knowing the set of the chief currents and the direction of the prevailing winds, would be of material a.s.sistance in navigating the boat--provided she could be made seaworthy.

Still pondering, Mostyn descended from the bluff and walked towards the camp. A more urgent problem demanded his attention: that of catering for the needs of his companions and himself.

The biscuits would not last out much longer, coconuts were unsatisfying fare, and apt to have injurious effect if used as a staple form of food. Whether the island possessed other resources, either animal or vegetable, had yet to be seen. Preliminary investigations had drawn blank in that direction.

Returning to camp, Mostyn found the others busily engaged in getting breakfast. Mahmed had found some oysters, many of them a foot in diameter, while the lascars had surprised and killed a small turtle.

It was rather a curious fact that Mrs. Shallop, childishly ignorant on most matters, was an authority on cooking. She just "took on" the turtle as a matter of course, and by the time Peter returned the choicest parts of the animal were stewing over a wood fire. In the absence of a suitable pot, for the baler was far too small, the self-const.i.tuted cook had employed the sh.e.l.l of the turtle as a receptacle for the stew. The oysters were eaten raw, flavoured with the vinegary milk of a young coco-nut.

But the success of the meal was the result of Mahmed's investigations.

He had wandered towards the main coco-nut grove on the southern point of the island and had discovered a number of "jack-fruits", a species of bread-fruit. These had been sliced and roasted, forming a good subst.i.tute for bread. The lascars, however, disdained the fruit, and were content with the seeds, which they bruised and cooked in coconut sh.e.l.ls.

For the moment the grim spectre of starvation had been driven away.

"I've been thinking, Peter," remarked Olive during the rest-interval.

"Couldn't we make a canvas boat? We have plenty of sail-cloth, and we could use timbers and planking out of the damaged boat."

"Might," admitted Mostyn. "It would take some doing, and after all it would be a frail craft to carry seven people. We might try it."

He thought over the matter, and the more he did so the greater became the difficulties. Even in calm water a canvas boat, unless properly constructed of suitable materials, is a sorry craft. In the high-crested waves of the Indian Ocean she would not stand a dog's chance.

Yet Olive's suggestion was not without good result. Based upon the idea, Peter's thoughts returned to the damaged boat. Could that not be patched with canvas and strengthened by woodwork so that it would be once more seaworthy?

"By Jove, Olive!" he exclaimed. "I believe you've put me on the right tack. Come on down to the boat. We'll take the lascars with us and see what's to be done. The sooner we get away from this place the better."

Olive did not agree with the latter remark, although she made no audible comment. She was rather enjoying the novelty of the situation.

Peter, on the other hand, had got over the glamour of desert islands.

An exciting time upon a coral island in the North Pacific had cured him of that. It wasn't to be regretted from a retrospective point of view, but he did not hanker after a repet.i.tion.

By the aid of a tackle composed of the halliards and main-sheet blocks the boat was canted over and finally lowered keel uppermost. The full extent of the damage was then apparent. There was a jagged hole about nine inches in diameter through the garboard strake and the strake next to it on the port side about five feet from the stem. On the starboard hand was a smaller hole close to the bilge keel, while there was a slight fracture on the same side eighteen inches from the stern-post.

"Rather a lash-up, what?" exclaimed Peter, as he noted the damage.

"Guess we'll be able to tackle that."

He first directed one of the lascars to trim the jagged holes with the axe. The next step was to smooth down the planking adjacent to the gaps by means of canvas and wet sand. This done, the boat was lifted on to her side and the bottom boards removed. A corner of the axe was then employed to remove the bra.s.s screws from the stern-sheet benches, while the gratings were sacrificed for the sake of the bra.s.s brads that secured them.

This task occupied the whole morning.

After lunch, work was resumed. Strips of painted canvas, smeared with a sticky substance smelling of turpentine, were laid over the holes and tacked down with the brads. Over this canvas the dismembered bottom-boards were firmly screwed. In less than an hour and a half this part of the work was completed.

The boat was then turned over on her keel, and the holes levelled flush with the inside planking by means of clay found in the bed of the little stream. Over this additional canvas was tacked and pressed into position by strips of wood from the bottom boards, struts being fixed between them and the under side of the thwarts to counteract the pressure of the water.

Well before sunset the task of making the boat water-tight was completed, and Peter surveyed the result with intense satisfaction.

"To-morrow," he declared to Olive, who had been working as steadily as anyone, "to-morrow we'll test her. I don't think she ought to leak very much."

"Aren't we going to explore the island, Peter?" asked the girl wistfully.

Mostyn capitulated.