However, he got adrift, and ran out through North Gate, with
a light westerly breeze, followed by a whole fleet of birds. These were
joined in due course by another of his satellites, a young seal he called
Tommy, also fond of fishing.
The feathered convoy soon tailed off; but Tommy stuck to him for about
eight miles. He ran that distance to have a nearer look at a small island
which lay due north of Telegraph Point. He satisfied himself it was
little more than a very long, large reef, the neighborhood of which ought
to be avoided by ships of burden, and, resolving to set some beacon or
other on it ere long, he christened it White Water Island, on account of
the surf. He came about and headed for the East Bluff.
Then Tommy gave him up in disgust; perhaps thought his conduct
vacillating. Animals all despise that.
He soon landed almost under the volcano, and moored his boat not far from
a cliff peaked with guano. Exercising due caution this time, he got up to
the lagoons, and found a great many ducks swimming about. He approached
little parties to examine their varieties. They all swam out his way;
some of them even flew a few yards, and then settled. Not one would let
him come within forty yards.
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