Mark walked into the wood till he found a moist place, there he poured his mixture on the ground, and the pungent mustard soon brought some worms up. These he secured, but he did not know how to carry them, for the mug he used for drinking from, and did not like to put them in it. Involuntarily feeling his pockets as people do when in difficulty, he remembered his handkerchief; he put some moss in it, and so made a bundle. He had but one mug, but he had several handkerchiefs in the store-room, and need not use this one again. Looking round the island for a place to fish, he came to a spot where a little headland projected on the Serendib side, but farther down than where they had bathed. At the end of the headland a willow trunk or blue gum hung over the water, and as he came near a kingfisher flew off the trunk and away round Serendib. Mark thought this a likely spot, as the water looked deep, and the willow cast a shadow on one side, and fish might come for anything that fell from the boughs. He dropped his bait in, and sat down in the shade to watch his blue float, which was reflected in the still water. He had not used his right to take the matchlock, because when he came out with it and saw Bevis, whose back was turned, he thought how selfish he was, for he knew Bevis liked shooting better than anything. So he put the gun back, and went fishing. Against his own wishes Bevis acknowledged Mark’s reason and right; against his own wishes Mark forbore to use his right that he might not be selfish. While Mark watched his float Bevis alternately twisted up the duck, and sat down under the teak-tree with the Odyssey, in which he read that-- On the lone island’s utmost verge there stood Of poplars, pines, and firs a lofty wood, from which Ulysses selected and felled enough for his vessel, and,-- At equal angles these disposed to join; He smooth’d and squared them by the rule and line. Long and capacious as a shipwright forms Some bark’s broad bottom to outride the storms, So large he built the raft: then ribb’d it strong From space to space, and nail’d the planks along; These form’d the sides: the deck he fashioned last; Then o’er the vessel raised the taper mast, With crossing sailyards dancing in the wind, And to the helm the guiding rudder join’d. Pondering over this Bevis planned his raft, intending to make it of six or eight beams of poplar, placed lengthways; across these a floor of short lesser poles put close together; thirdly, a layer of long poles; and above these the catamaran planks for the deck. He had not enough plank to make the sides so he proposed to fix uprights and extend a railing all round, and wattle this with willows, which would keep off some of the wash of the waves, like bulwarks. Even then, perhaps, the sea might flush the deck; so he meant to fasten the chest in the store-room on it as a locker, to preserve such stores as they might take with them.