The still, stiff form of Mr. Meeson, stretched out beneath the sail,
frightened the little lad, he did not know why. Augusta took him into
her arms and kissed him passionately. She loved the child for his own
sake; and, besides, he, and he alone, stood between her and utter
solitude. Then she took him across to the other hut, which had been
vacated by the sailors, for it was impossible to stay in the one with
the body, which was too heavy for her to move. In the centre of the
sailors’ hut stood the cask of rum which had been the cause of their
destruction. It was nearly empty now—so light, indeed, that she had no
difficulty in rolling it to one side. She cleaned out the place as well
as she could, and returning to where Mr. Meeson’s body lay, fetched the
bag of biscuits and the roasted eggs, after which they had their
breakfast.
Fortunately there was but little rain that morning, so Augusta took
Dick out to look for eggs, not because they wanted any more, but in
order to employ themselves. Together they climbed up on to a rocky
headland, where the flag was flying, and looked out across the troubled
ocean. There was nothing in sight so far as the eye could see—nothing
but the white wave-horses across which the black cormorants steered
their swift, unerring flight. She looked and looked till her heart sank
within her.
“Will Mummy soon come in a boat to take Dick away?” asked the child at
her side, and then she burst into tears.
When she had recovered herself they set to collecting eggs, an
occupation which, notwithstanding the screams and threatened attacks of
the birds, delighted Dick greatly. Soon they had as many as she could
carry; so they went back to the hut and lit a fire of drift-wood, and
roasted some eggs in the hot ashes; she had no pot to boil them in.
Thus, one way and another the day wore away, and at last the darkness
began to fall over the rugged peaks behind and the wild wilderness of
sea before. She put Dick to bed and he went off to sleep. Indeed, it
was wonderful to see how well the child bore the hardships through
which they were passing. He never had an ache or a pain, or even a cold
in the head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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