duty. The largest boat of the little fleet, which had no deck at
all, not even forward, and which was not only lighter-built but
lighter-rigged, having one large sprit-sail that brailed, was called the
Mary, in honour of Heaton's mother; while the jolly-boat carried joy to
the hearts of the house of Socrates, by being named the Dido. As she was
painted black as a crow, this appellation was not altogether
inappropriate, Soc declaring, "dat 'e boat did a good deal favour his
ole woman."

While these things were in progress, the Neshamony was not idle. She
made six voyages between the Reef and the Peak in that month, carrying
to the last, fish, fresh pork, various necessaries from the ship, as
well as eggs and salt. Some of the fowls were caught and transferred to
the Peak, as well as half-a-dozen of the porkers. The return cargo
consisted of reed-birds, in large quantities, several other varieties of
birds, bread-fruits, bananas, yams, cocoa-nuts, and a fruit that Heaton
discovered, which was of a most delicious flavour, resembling
strawberries and cream, and which was afterwards ascertained to be the
charra-moya, the fruit that, of all others, when good, is thought to
surpass everything else of that nature. Bridget also picked a basket of
famously large wild strawberries on the Summit, and sent them to Anne.
In return. Anne sent her sister, not only cream and milk, by each
passage, but a little fresh butter. The calves had been weaned, and the
two cows were now giving their largest quantity of milk, furnishing
almost as much butter as was wanted.

At the crater, Socrates put everything in order. He mowed the grass, and
made a neat stack of it, in the centre of the meadow. He cleaned the
garden thoroughly, and made some arrangements for enlarging it, though
the yield, now, was quite as great as all the colonists could consume;
for, no sooner was one vegetable dug, or cut, than another was put in
its place. On the Peak, Peters, who was half a farmer, dug over an acre
or two of rich loam, and made a fence of brush, with a view of having a
garden in Eden. Really, it almost seemed superfluous; though those who
had been accustomed to salads, and beans, and beets, and onions, and
cucumbers, and all the other common vegetables of a civilized kitchen,
soon began to weary of the more luscious fruits of the tropics. With the
wild figs, however, Heaton, who was a capital horticulturist, fancied he
could do something. He picked out