CHAPTER XXI

MORE ARRIVALS

All interest in building a hut was temporarily forgotten as the four castaways watched the slow approach of the boat.  As it came nearer it was seen to be the captain’s gig, in which Bob and his friends had left the ill-fated Eagle.

“Do you think there’ll be anything left in her?” asked Bob.

“There will, unless she is smashed,” replied Mr. Spark.  “The lockers, in which most of the supplies were packed, are water-tight and securely fastened.  This is a piece of good luck, if the boat is not stove in.  She has turned bottom up, but she may still be sound.  She’ll soon be here.”

When the gig was close enough so that they could wade out to it, Bob and Tim Flynn rolled up their trousers and went through the shallow surf.  The beach gradually shelved at this point and they could wade out nearly a quarter of a mile at low tide.

“She’s all right, cap’n!” called the sailor, when he and Bob reached the small craft.  “Sound as a dollar, and the lockers are closed,” he added as the boat rolled partly over.

“Good!” cried the commander.  “Pull her in as close as you can and we’ll unload her.  Then we’ll get her above high-water mark.  This boat may save our lives.”

“How?” asked Mr. Tarbill.

“Why, when the sea goes down we can leave the island in her.”

“Leave the island?  Never!  I’m on dry land now, and I’m never going to trust myself in a boat again.”

“Maybe you’ll think differently after a bit,” said the captain.

By this time Bob and Tim had the boat in very shallow water.  They managed to turn it on the keel, and the first thing they saw was the sail in the bottom.  Ropes, fastened to various projections, had prevented the canvas from floating away.

“There!” cried the captain, when he saw it.  “That solves our shelter problem for us.  We’ll make a tent.  Oh, we’re in luck, all right.  ‘Bob’s Island’ isn’t such a bad place after all.”

Bob blushed with pleasure.  Then and there he made up his mind that his foolishness should be a thing of the past.  He was of some importance in the world now, and it would not do to be playing childish pranks.

But if the captain was delighted at finding the sail, he was much more so when, on opening the lockers, which fastened with patent catches, everything was found to be as “dry as a bone,” as Tim Flynn expressed it.

“Now we can have a change from the fish and fruit diet,” said the captain, as he showed where the canned food had been stowed away.  There were tins of ship’s biscuits, some jars of jam and marmalade, plenty of canned beef, tongue and other meats, rice, flour—­in short, a bountiful supply for the small party of castaways.

Captain Spark had ordered the boats to be well provisioned when he knew the Eagle was doomed, and his forethought now stood them in good stead.