t pass before a
vessel came in sight. They had only a small store of food, barely
sufficient, even if husbanded with the utmost care, to last a
fortnight. From their position at the foot of rugged cliffs it was
impossible to tell what sustenance the island afforded, and the evil
reputation of the natives did not give promise of peaceful
exploration. While not actually head hunters, like the inhabitants of
the New Georgian group to the south, they were said to be treacherous
and vindictive. At the southern end of the island, as Underhill knew,
there was a Wesleyan mission station, placed in a somewhat
inaccessible spot, and at Tulagi, on Florida Island to the south, was
a Government station and the seat of the Resident. It might be
possible to reach one or the other of these, but even so they would be
compelled to wait indefinitely, there being no telegraphic
communication between either and a civilized port.

Reflections like these did not tend to cheer the castaways; but, now
that the sun shone once more out of a clear sky, the invincible
optimism of the British sailorman displayed itself, and the men began
to scramble up the cliffs with almost light-hearted eagerness. At the
top they found themselves at the edge of a dense and tangled forest.
Underhill sent some of the crew to search for a likely camping place,
while the remainder hauled up the boat's cargo. A comparatively clear
space, about a hundred and fifty yards square, was discovered within a
short distance from the cliffs. A stream running through the midst
ensured a good supply of water, and here Underhill determined to make
his camp.

Great havoc had been wrought in the forest by the storm. Many trees
had been snapped off or uprooted; the ground was strewn with broken
branches; and when the whole party were assembled at the spot, and the
arms and provisions had been covered with a tarpaulin, Underhill sent
all hands to collect broken timber for forming a breastwork.
Fortunately, a good number of tools had been brought from the vessel,
and as the men came in with their loads, Rumbold, the ship's
carpenter, set to work, with the assistance of two or three, to
surround the enclosure with a rough fence. Underhill ordered them to
avoid the use of hammers and axes, the noise of which, carrying far in
these solitudes, might attract the attention of the natives, who, for
all he knew, had a village in the neighbourhood. There was no lack of
tough creepers which we