It was still dark, but there was a sort of silent stirring in the sky,
betokening dawn, when I waked Billy, who was snoring very happily upon
his back, and told him we must convey our raft down to the shore, if we
would come to the cave before the men were about. He got up at once,
and we carried the raft between us across the island, being careful to
keep a good distance from the hut, which made the way longer but surer.
Being merely a kind of hurdle, the raft was not heavy and gave us no
trouble by its weight, though it was troublesome to get it over the
steep places we had to pass on our way down to the shore. However, we
came there without mishap, at the sandy beach, and launched the raft;
but when I stood upon it I saw that it would not support Billy as well,
and I proposed to him that I should go to the cave alone and bring back
the canoe for him. This he flatly and with great vehemence refused,
saying that I might never get there, what with sharks and long-legged
monsters, and that he wasn't going to be left behind, but would share
everything with me. When I asked him how he would go, the raft not
being strong enough for two, he said he would catch hold of it and swim
along, and as for sharks, he would kick out very hard and so scare any
that came, and we always had our axes. But now I took a firm stand,
and said plainly that I would not allow any such thing, nor did I yield
to Billy's pleading that I would permit him to make the journey alone;
and so I set off, and not to make a long story about a short voyage, I
arrived safely at the cave, and found the canoe just as we had left her
behind the rocks. Then I went back for Billy, and when we came to the
cave again we lit our torch (we had brought only one, having material
for plenty more in the cavern), and proceeded up the tunnel until we
reached our storehouse, where we first of all had a good breakfast,
thinking all the time of the seamen above, perfectly ignorant of what
was going on beneath them. We spoke in whispers and moved very
quietly, so that the men should not hear us, and get an inkling of our
whereabouts; not that there was much danger of this, perhaps, for if
they did hear a sound it was like to make them more fearful than
inquisitive, and Billy said they would be sure to think it was Old
Smoker talking to himself, and they might then leave the hut as a
dangerous place. But I thought it best to run no risks that we could
avoid, and so we moved very softly, as I have said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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