size, which he fitted to the keel at equal distances, thus forming three strong ribs. Now the squaring and shaping of these, and the cutting of the grooves in the keel, was an easy enough matter, as it was all work for the axe, in the use of which Jack was become wonderfully expert; but it was quite a different affair when he came to nailing the ribs to the keel, for we had no instrument capable of boring a large hole, and no nails to fasten them with. We were, indeed, much perplexed here; but Jack at length devised an instrument that served very well. He took the remainder of our hoop-iron and beat it into the form of a pipe or cylinder, about as thick as a man’s finger. This he did by means of our axe and the old rusty axe we had found at the house of the poor man at the other side of the island. This, when made red hot, bored slowly through the timbers; and the better to retain the heat, Jack shut up one end of it and filled it with sand. True, the work was very slowly done; but it mattered not — we had little else to do. Two holes were bored in each timber, about an inch and a half apart, and also down into the keel, but not quite through. Into these were placed stout pegs made of a tree called iron-wood, and when they were hammered well home, the timbers were as firmly fixed as if they had been nailed with iron. The gunwales, which were very stout, were fixed in a similar manner. But besides the wooden nails, they were firmly lashed to the stem and stern-posts and ribs by means of a species of cordage which we had contrived to make out of the fibrous husk of the cocoa-nut. This husk was very tough, and when a number of the threads were joined together they formed excellent cordage. At first we tied the different lengths together; but this was such a clumsy and awkward complication of knots that we contrived, by careful interlacing of the ends together before twisting, to make good cordage of any size or length we chose. Of course it cost us much time and infinite labour; but Jack kept up our spirits when we grew weary, and so all that we required was at last constructed.
Planks were now cut off the chestnut-trees of about an inch thick. These were dressed with the axe — but clumsily, for an axe is ill-adapted for such work. Five of these planks on each side were sufficient; and we formed the boat in a very rounded, barrel-like shape, in order to have as little twisting of the planks as possible, for although we could easily bend them, we could not easily twist them. Having no nails to rivet the planks with, we threw aside the ordinary fashion of boat-building and adopted one of our own. The planks were therefore placed on each other’s edges, and sewed together with the tough cordage already mentioned; they were also thus sewed to the stem, the stern, and the keel. Each stitch or tie was six inches apart, and was formed thus: Three holes were bored in the upper plank and three in the lower, the holes being above each other — that is, in a vertical line. Through these holes the cord was passed, and when tied, formed a powerful stitch of three-ply. Besides this, we placed between the edges of the planks layers of cocoa-nut fibre, which, as it swelled when wetted, would, we hoped, make our little vessel water-tight. But in order further to secure this end, we collected a large quantity of pitch from the bread-fruit tree, with which, when boiled in our old iron pot, we paid the whole of the inside of the boat, and while it was yet hot, placed large pieces of cocoa-nut cloth on it, and then gave it another coat above that. Thus the interior was covered with a tough, water-tight material; while the exterior, being uncovered, and so exposed to the swelling action of the water, was, we hoped, likely to keep the boat quite dry. I may add that our hopes were not disappointed.
While Jack was thus engaged, Peterkin and I sometimes assisted him; but as our assistance was not much required, we more frequently went a-hunting on the extensive mud-flats at the entrance of the long valley which lay nearest to our bower. Here we found large flocks of ducks of various kinds, some of them bearing so much resemblance to the wild ducks of our own country that I think they must have been the same. On these occasions we took the bow and the sling, with both of which we were often successful, though I must confess that I was the least so. Our suppers were thus pleasantly varied, and sometimes we had such a profusion spread out before us that we frequently knew not with which of the dainties to begin.
I must also add that the poor old cat which we had brought home had always a liberal share of our good things; and so well was it looked after, especially by Peterkin, that it recovered much of its former strength, and seemed to improve in sight as well as hearing.
The large flat stone, or rock of coral, which stood just in front of the entrance to our bower, was our table. On this rock we had spread out the few articles we possessed the day we were shipwrecked; and on the same rock, during many a day afterwards, we spread out the bountiful supply with which we had been blessed on our Coral Island. Sometimes we sat down at this table to a feast consisting of hot rolls — as Peterkin called the newly baked bread-fruit — a roast pig, roast duck, boiled and roasted yams, cocoa-nuts, taro, and sweet potatoes; which we followed up with a dessert of plums, apples, and plantains — the last being a large-sized and delightful fruit, which grew on a large shrub or tree not more than twelve feet high, with light-green leaves of enormous length and breadth. These luxurious feasts were usually washed down with cocoa-nut lemonade.
Occasionally Peterkin tried to devise some new dish —“a conglomerate,” as he used to say; but these generally turned out such atrocious compounds that he was ultimately induced to give up his attempts in extreme disgust — not forgetting, however, to point out to Jack that his failure was a direct contradiction to the proverb which he (Jack) was constantly thrusting down his throat — namely, that “where there’s a will there’s a way.” For he had a great will to become a cook, but could by no means find a way to accomplish that end.
One day, while Peterkin and I were seated beside our table, on which dinner was spread, Jack came up from the beach, and flinging down his axe, exclaimed:
“There, lads, the boat’s finished at last! So we’ve nothing to do now but shape two pair of oars, and then we may put to sea as soon as we like.”
This piece of news threw us into a state of great joy; for although we were aware that the boat had been gradually getting near its completion, it had taken so long that we did not expect it to be quite ready for at least two or three weeks. But Jack had wrought hard and said nothing, in order to surprise us.
“My dear fellow,” cried Peterkin, “you’re a perfect trump! But why did you not tell us it was so nearly ready? Won’t we have a jolly sail tomorrow, eh?”
“Don’t talk so much, Peterkin,” said Jack; “and, pray, hand me a bit of that pig.”
“Certainly, my dear,” cried Peterkin, seizing the axe. “What part will you have? A leg, or a wing, or a piece of the breast — which?”
“A hind leg, if you please,” answered Jack; “and, pray, be so good as to include the tail.”
“With all my heart,” said Peterkin, exchanging the axe for his hoop-iron knife, with which he cut off the desired portion. “I’m only too glad, my dear boy, to see that your appetite is so wholesale, and there’s no chance whatever of its dwindling down into retail again — at least, in so far as this pig is concerned. — Ralph, lad, why don’t you laugh, eh?” he added, turning suddenly to me with a severe look of inquiry.
“Laugh!” said I. “What at, Peterkin? Why should I laugh?”
Both Jack and Peterkin answered this inquiry by themselves laughing so immoderately that I was induced to believe I had missed noticing some good joke, so I begged that it might be explained to me; but as this only produced repeated roars of laughter, I smiled and helped myself to another slice of plantain.
“Well, but,” continued Peterkin, “I was talking of a sail tomorrow. Can’t we have one, Jack?”
“No,” replied Jack, “we can’t have a sail; but I hope we shall have a row, as I intend to work hard at the oars this afternoon, and if we can’t get them finished by sunset, we’ll light our candle-nuts, and turn them out of hands before we turn into bed.”
“Very good,” said Peterkin, tossing a lump of pork to the cat, who received it with a mew of satisfaction. “I’ll help you, if I can.”
“Afterwards,” continued Jack, “we will make a sail out of the cocoa-nut cloth, and rig up a mast; and then we shall be able to sail to some of the other islands, and visit our old friends