Captain Scraggs choked with rage, and Mr. Gibney, springing at
the nearest palm, shinned to the top of it in the most approved
sailor fashion. A moment later, instead of cocoanuts, rich,
unctuous curses began to descend on McGuffey and Scraggs.

"Gib, my _dear_ boy," inquired Scraggs, "whatever _is_ the
matter of you?"

"That hound Tabu-Tabu's been strippin' our cocoanut grove,"
roared the commodore. "He must have spent half the night up in
these trees."

"Thank the Lord they didn't take 'em all," said McGuffey piously.
"Chuck me down a nut, Gib," said Captain Scraggs. "I'm famished."

In conformity with the commodore's plans, the castaways made camp
in the grove. For a week they subsisted on gooneys, taro root,
cocoanuts and cocoanut milk, and a sea-turtle which Scraggs found
wandering on the beach. This suggested turtle eggs to Mr. Gibney,
and a change of diet resulted. Nevertheless, the unaccustomed
food, poorly cooked as it was, and the lack of water, told
cruelly on them, and their strength failed rapidly. Realizing
that in a few days he would not have the strength to climb
cocoanut trees, Mr. Gibney spent nearly half a day aloft and
threw down every cocoanut he could find, which was not a great
many. They had their sheath knives and consequently had little
fear from an attack by Tabu-Tabu and the king. These latter kept
well to the other side of the island and subsisted in much the
same manner as their white neighbours.