Accordingly, the smaller of the two huts was given up to Augusta and the boy Dick, while Mr.Meeson and the sailors took possession of the large one.

Their next task was to move up their scanty belongings (the boat having first been carefully beached), and to clean out the huts and make them as habitable as possible by stretching the sails of the boat on the damp floors and covering up the holes in the roof as best they could with stones and bits of board from the bottom of the boat.

The weather was, fortunately, dry, and as they all (with the exception of Mr.Meeson, who seemed to be quite prostrated) worked with a will, not excepting Master Dick--who toddled backwards and forwards after Augusta in high glee at finding himself on terra firma--and by midday everything that could be done was done.

Then they made a fire of some drift-wood--for, fortunately, they had a few matches--and Augusta cooked the two fowls they had got out of the floating hen-coop as well as circumstances would allow--which, as a matter of fact, was not very well--and they had dinner, of which they all stood sadly in need.
After dinner they reckoned up their resources.

Of water there was an ample supply, for not far from the huts a stream ran down into the fjord.
For food they had the best part of a bag of biscuits weighing about a hundred pounds.