from its peculiar conformation, that the sea swept round it,
and broke almost with as much violence on the one side as on the other;
though still it might be possible, could they get the canoe across, to
launch her. However, they were very unwilling to return without having
something to show, and agreed that it would be better to wait till the
following morning.

They had got more than half-way round when loud cries reached them, and,
looking ahead, they caught sight of the boatswain scampering away over
the sand faster than he had run for many a year, with a vast flight of
birds hovering about his head, and uttering loud shrieks and cries of
anger; some darting down and attacking him from behind, and others
wheeling round and flying at his face, which he had the greatest
difficulty in defending. The midshipmen, seeing the predicament that he
was in, hurried forward to his assistance; when the birds, undaunted by
their appearance, commenced an assault on them, and they too had to beat
a retreat, pursued by their persevering foes. In vain they struck about
them with their muskets, which, being heavy, the birds easily evaded,
only to return to the assault with greater vigour, caring neither for
their aimless blows nor their loud cries.

The midshipmen could easily have outstripped the boatswain, who, already
blown, rushed on puffing and panting like an asthmatic steam-engine; but
they, like young heroes, refused to desert him, although Desmond, as he
flourished his musket, very nearly brought the muzzle down on his
companion's nose. The faster they ran, the more determined the birds
became, till matters were really growing serious; and the poor
boatswain, unable any longer to continue his flight, suddenly came down
with a run on his face in the sand.

The midshipmen now making a stand in order to defend him, the birds
retreated, croaking and shrieking louder than ever. "We must lift Mr
Large up, or he'll be suffocated," said Tom, and, aided by Desmond, they
rolled him round till his face was out of the sand. He was breathing
very heavily, and they became greatly alarmed. "I'm afraid he's got a
fit of apoplexy, or something dreadful," cried Tom. "I say, Gerald, go
and fetch a cap full of water,--there's no other way of getting it--and
we'll try and bring him to."

Gerald, as desired, ran off to the beach, and hurried back with his cap,
from which the water was of course rapidly streaming out. They managed,
how