The survivors were still strong enough to give him burial.
In a few days Taylor followed him and was interred by his side.

The blacks threatened them continually, though at times they would lay down their arms and bring pieces of fish and turtle into the camp; but this only the better to spy out their weakness.

Carpenter was the next to succumb, and on the 1st of December they were doomed to drink their bitterest cup to the dregs.

They had killed the remaining horse, but the monsoonal rains descended, and in the steamy atmosphere the meat turned putrid.

Torn with anxiety, Carron was dejectedly mounting the look-out to the flagstaff when he caught sight of a vessel beating into the Bay.