XXXIV
MAROONED AT QUASI
IT was a bright, sunny day that followed—a day offering no suggestionof the convulsion of the night before. There was a good sailing breezeblowing in from the sea. It gave Dunbar the wind over the starboardquarter for his voyage to the village, and promised to be nearly abeamfor his return.
“The dory will take me there and back by noon or a little later,” hecalled to the others as the sails filled and the boat heeled over toport.
The Rutledge boys had urged him to take the money they offered him forthe purchase of supplies, but he had declined.
“I have a plenty of my own,” was his answer, “and whatever I can buy upthere I’ll bring back as my contribution to the general welfare.”
It was idle to argue the matter, and not very safe either, Dickthought, for in their intercourse with him the boys had learned thatwith all his kindly good-nature, Dunbar was exceedingly proud and verysensitive.
When the dory had gone, the boys set to work with a will upon the taskof re-establishing Camp Quasi. Tom was sent out after game. Dick,who was the cleverest of them all in using tools, and especiallyhis jackknife, busied himself in fitting new handles into their twoshovels. With these and the bait pails for excavating tools, the threewho remained in camp toiled diligently in removing the sand from theirwell.
Tom returned a little before noon, bringing in game enough of one kindand another to keep the company in meat for two days to come.
There was no sign of Dunbar and the dory as yet, and as the rest werehungry, it was decided that Cal should cook dinner at once, while Tomworked at the well in his stead. The cooking occupied a considerabletime, and it was two o’clock in the afternoon when the tired boysfinished eating. They had not slept since the earthquake at ten o’clockthe night before; they had worked hard during the night in an endeavorto save what they could of their belongings, and they had worked stillharder ever since dawn. Moreover, the excitement had been even morewearying than the work. Now that it had passed away and its victimshad eaten a hearty dinner, the desire for rest and sleep becameirresistible.
Cal had made measurements and reported that two hours more of digging,or perhaps even less than that, would give them a water supply oncemore. At Larry’s suggestion, therefore, the worn-out fellows decided tosleep for an hour or two.
“We’ll do the rest of the well-digging in the cool of the lateafternoon,” he said between a succession of yawns.
“Let’s hope,” said Tom, “that Mr. Dunbar won’t get here and wake us upbefore we’re ready.”
“There’s not much danger of that,” answered Cal.
“Why not, Cal?”
“You’d know without asking if you were as observant to-day as youusually are. I suppose you didn’t notice that the wind died out beforenoon, and there hasn’t been a sailing breath since.”
“That’s so,” said Tom, “and he’ll have to row the whole way. I ought tohave thought of that.”
“Well, please don’t apologize now. It would only keep us awake whenevery moment is precious for slumber. I give notice now that I’m asleepand you can’t pull another word out of me with a corkscrew.”
When the weary fellows waked the afternoon was nearly gone, but beforeresuming their work, and by way of refreshing themselves for it, theywent down to the beach and took a plunge into the sea.
“No sign of Mr. Dunbar yet,” said Tom, who was beginning to be uneasy.
“No,” answered Larry, “but we needn’t bother about him. He’ll turn upquite unexpectedly when he gets ready. He always does that you know.What we’ve got to do is to finish our well in the shortest possibletime. So, on with your duds, and let’s get to work.”
“You’re ‘mighty right,’ Larry,” said Dick. “I’ve quenched my thirstwith sour wild grapes till my teeth have an edge like those of abuck-saw, and I begin to crave some unseasoned water.”
“I imagine we’re all in the same condition,” said Cal, as they hurriedback to the ruins of the camp, “and it is altogether well that we areso.”
“How’s that, Cal?”
“Why, stimulated by thirst and encouraged by a sure prospect of reward,we’ll stop fooling away our time and do a little real work.”
Two hours later there was an abundant water supply in the well, andit had so far “settled” that the boys drank it freely with their latesupper.
When the meal was over they all strolled down to the shore again andlistened for the sound of oars in the direction from which Dunbar wasexpected. Nobody had suggested this. No word of uneasiness had beenuttered, but every member of the company was in fact uneasy about themissing member of the group. After their return to camp this feelingwas recognized as something in the minds of all. Presently Tom offereda suggestion:
“What do you think, Larry? Won’t it be just as well to show a lightdown that way, in case he should have trouble in finding the landingduring the night?”
“That’s a good idea, Tom, but we’re so nearly out of oil now—indeed,we haven’t any except what is in the lanterns—that it must be atorch—”
“Or a camp-fire,” suggested Cal. “There are no sand flies to-night, andthere’s nothing to keep us here. Why not move down to the bluffs andbuild a camp-fire there? Then we can sleep by it and keep it going allnight.”
This plan was carried out, but it resulted in nothing. When the boysreturned to their work of rebuilding the shelter the next morning,Dunbar had not yet made his appearance, nor was anything to be seen ofthe dory in such of the waterways as were open to view between the mudmarshes that dotted the great bay or inlet in every direction.
But as the boys busied themselves with their work on the hut, theirminds were occupied and their anxiety as to Dunbar was less than duringthe night before.
When another day had passed, however, and still Dunbar did not return,that anxiety became very keen indeed. They built their fire again onthe bluff, and they tried hard to sleep by it, but with little success.They would resolve to stop talking and go to sleep, and for a fewminutes all would be quiet. Then one after another would grow restlessand sit up, or walk about, or say something that set the talk goingagain.
Presently, when all had given up the attempt to sleep, Larry made afinal end of all efforts in that direction by saying:
“You see, boys, this thing is really very serious. We are all anxiousabout Mr. Dunbar’s safety, but we’ve got our own to think about also.”
Every one of the company had thought of that, but until now all of themhad avoided mentioning it.
“You see it isn’t Mr. Dunbar alone that is missing; the dory is gonetoo, and if he doesn’t return the dory won’t.”
“No, and in that case,” commented Dick, “our situation will be reallyvery serious. We are here on what is practically an island that nobodyever visits; we are without a boat, and there is no possible way ofescape from here without one.”
“Can’t we build some sort of craft that will answer our purpose?” askedTom, hopefully.
“What with?” Larry responded. “We have no materials and no tools exceptthe one little ax. There isn’t so much as a nail anywhere on Quasiplantation, and if there were kegs full, we haven’t a hammer to hitthem with.”
“We might drive nails with stones,” suggested Dick.
“We might if we had one of your Massachusetts quarries to furnish thestones. But on all this coast there isn’t a rock or a stone as big as afilbert. No, we have no tools and no substitutes for tools.”
“Yes,” growled Cal, who alone was lying down with closed eyes in anendeavor to get to sleep, “and you fellows are doing all you canto wear out the strength we need for the emergency by profitlesschatter, when we ought to be sleeping and refreshing ourselves to meetconditions as they arise. Don’t you see the folly of that? Don’t yourealize that you aren’t bettering things, but making them worse?
“The very worst preparation for meeting difficulties is to fall intoa panic about them. Besides, there’s no occa
sion for panic or formelancholy brooding; Dunbar may turn up with the dory safe and sound.If he doesn’t, I grant you we’ll have some problems to wrestle withand we’ll need the clearest heads we can keep on our shoulders. You’redoing all you can to muddle them.”
“But, Cal, it is necessary to face this situation and think of ways inwhich—”
“That’s precisely what you’re not doing. Not one of you has offered asingle suggestion that is worth while. Besides, this isn’t the time forthat. Troubles always look worse at night than by daylight. The best wecan do now is to make up our minds to two things.”
“What are they, Cal?”
“First, that if we’re in a hole, we’ll find some way of getting out ofit, and, second, that it is high time to go to sleep.”
“Have you thought of any plans, Cal?”
“Not exactly; but I have some ideas that may be worthy of attention onthe part of this distinguished company, if this distinguished companywill individually and collectively stop gabbing and let sleep respondto the wooing of closed eyelids. Silence in camp!”