Two sailor lads

CHAPTER XVIII.

SEÑOR SARPINTO.

Nearer and nearer sailed the San Salvador, closer and closer into the bay; and soon the dark spot resolved itself into something with a definable shape. Presently all doubt was dispelled; it was a ship lying on the ice on her beam ends, and a few minutes after several men were seen clustering near her.

The captain took the glass from his eye,

"There is no doubt about it," he said aloud. "Yonder lies the wreck of the Resolute."

Then the crew manned the bulwarks, the capstan, and winch, and cheer after cheer rose on the icy air of the morning, such cheers as only can be heard from true British sailors.

Was it an echo from the cold and snowy mountain cliffs, or was it really a cheer in response to theirs, that now came feebly back over the dark waters? None could tell. But in a very short time the San Salvador was near enough to see figures running excitedly about on the ice.

They are soon near enough for safety, the anchor chains rattle out, and the sails are clued; and soon a boat is speeding shorewards, both Captain Cawdor and his young friend Fred being seated in the stern sheets.

And now I have a strange fact to record; and mind you, reader, facts are stranger far than fiction, and I must leave the elucidation thereof to the psychologist.

As the boat entered the bay then, and the mountains and cliffs grew taller and taller, and cast great shadows across the water, Fred was noticed by his captain to become strangely excited, and to look more and more surprised every moment. He kept gazing around him.

"Captain Cawdor," he said at last, clutching his friend's arm, "am I really and truly awake? Oh, sir, everything around me is familiar—every rock and cliff and gloomy hill! Oh, captain, I've been here before!"

He looked so wild as he spoke that Captain Cawdor really began to think he was taking leave of his senses. But he had more reason to think so immediately afterwards.

Fred started to his feet, his cap falling off as he did so, his eyes staring shorewards, in which direction also his right arm was stretched.

"I knew it! I knew it!" he cried. "It is my dream coming true—my thrice-dreamt dream! Look, sir, look! Yonder stands Frank himself!"

He waved both arms madly above his head,

"Frank! Frank! Frank!" he shouted, "it is I, Fred Arundel, your friend, your brother!"

He sank down almost exhausted.

Captain Cawdor noticed a young man in the garb of a sailor come staggering along the snow to the very edge of the black water, where he swayed about, so that those in the boat were in momentary expectation of seeing him fall into the sea.

No sooner had the boat touched the snow edge than Fred sprang up and leapt on shore, and next moment the two long-lost friends stood hand in hand gazing into each other's faces, though neither could speak a single word.

Frank was the first to regain his voice.

"God bless you, Fred; I knew you'd come."

"You knew, Frank?"

"I did."

"But how?"

"I dreamt you would. That is all. And night after night I dreamt that dream again. It is all God's merciful providence, Fred. Heigho! I feel so happy now."

"But how weak you are! Come into the boat and seat yourself. Captain Cawdor, we'll stick to the boat a bit; the men can go with you."

"Take a pull of this flask, my lad," said the captain in kind tones to Frank.

"Oh, thank you; no, sir!" he answered. "I have sworn never to touch that."

"As you please, boy; but go and sit down."

"I'll tell you in a word why I refused the captain's flask," said Frank, when the two were seated in the stern sheets. "My dearest friend on earth—he's not on earth now—whom I loved as much as you, because I hadn't you to care for, fell a victim to accursed rum, and one night he threw himself into the sea, Fred, and before my eyes I saw him torn in pieces by the sharks."

What a long story that was that each had to tell the other of their travels and adventures, since last saying farewell on the Broomielaw at Glasgow!

But it was not all told on the ice here.

Fred and Señor Sarpinto, with the skipper of the Resolute, and some of the ailing ones among the crew, were taken at once aboard the San Salvador.

The others remained in camp beside their ship.

The skipper, a little dark-skinned Yankee, told Cawdor at once that he believed it possible to repair and float the Resolute, and so that very day a picked crew was sent on shore to work at her. All the damage that could be found out about the brig had been done to her starboard quarter. Here was a big hole, but as the vessel lay on the port side, two days hard work sufficed to make good repairs.

Then came the tug of war. How was she to be got up?

The skipper's plan at once proved the boldness of Yankee device.

He would, he said, blast the ice from under her.*

* A plan I have seen resorted to in Greenland more than once.

"Would this not damage the ship?" said Cawdor.

"Oh, no, sirree," was the reply. "We'll sink the keg of powder well under, and it will be the easiest work in the world."

"Well, we'll try," said Cawdor.

So preparations were immediately commenced. Luckily the weather continued fine.

A stout hawser was fastened to the Resolute's main mast head, and carried towards that of the San Salvador, which had been brought near the ice floe and anchored there. This was done with the view of causing the Resolute to take the water keel down, else she might actually turn turtle as it is called.

All being ready the keg of powder was lowered, and lighted by means of a long fuse.

Then ensued a long time of anxious waiting. Minutes on minutes seemed to elapse before the explosion actually took place.

When it did so, instead of being anything very startling, it resolved itself simply into the raising of a vast balloon-shaped fountain of salt water and spray which blinded everyone it fell upon. Pieces of ice also fell with rattling thuds upon the deck of the barque, but no one was hurt. The San Salvador shook and shivered and swayed about for a few moments; huge lumps of the débris of the blasted iceberg thundered against her sides; then it could be seen that the Resolute was slowly righting herself on an even keel, and sinking down to her water-line.

All speed was now made to cut the hawser, but there was no further danger. The rescued brig lay there like a duck upon the water; sail was soon after made, and both vessels moved slowly out to the open waters of the bay.

Much to everyone's surprise the Resolute made scarcely any water; so the Yankee skipper's daring had been well rewarded.

Next day a strong breeze sprang up from the south-west; and, taking advantage of it, away went the consorts under all sail en route for New Zealand.

* * * * * *

Nothing, I think, affords such convincing proof of the limitedness of the human mind as the futility of the attempts we sometimes make to grasp or understand the infinitely great or the infinitely small. We are willing enough, for instance, to take it for granted that the milky way on which we gaze on some still starry night is in reality a mist of myriads on myriads of worlds and suns, millions of which are as large in comparison to our mite of an earth as a crownpiece is to a pin's head; but if we attempt to form any just conception of so great a marvel we feel our own littleness at once. Again, we may be told that every drop of stagnant water under the microscope resolves itself at once into a world in which creatures live, and move, and have their being, and act out their own little life-stories on their particular stage just as we do in ours. We can grasp this truth; but take it in the aggregate, and where are we? How many drops of stagnant water are in yonder pond? And how many microscopic worlds are there? We are best to leave all such calculations alone. They do but stagger and stun us. Besides there is the golden hope given us in the Bible, that though here below we see darkly in a glass, our hereafter will be more bright and intellectual.

I am led to make these remarks from a glance I have just taken at a map or chart of the world, and that portion of it in particular we call the Pacific Ocean. On this map of mine the islands that dot its vast surface are fairly well marked to the extent of our present knowledge. But probably not a thousandth part of them are down here, nor have ever been visited even. And when we consider that most of them are teeming with life—with animal, human life even—and are the homes of creatures and peoples utterly foreign to us, as are also their fauna and flora, the thought is indeed somewhat startling. Then to think of the ages and ages that have elapsed during the formation of this mist of islands, whether by the breaking into pieces of vast continents, or the raising from the ocean's bed of isle upon isle by volcanic or coral agency! Is it not weirdly strange?

It is in the very centre of this wondrous mist of islands that the next scene of our story opens.

The vessels San Salvador and Resolute had reached New Zealand, and both had loaded up and were on their way home to San Francisco. Frank was strong and well again now, and had been transferred from his own brig to the Salvador, and proving to be really a fairly good sailor, Captain Cawdor had kept his promise to Fred, and duly installed him in the position of third mate. So all had gone well, and the two young men now felt as happy as the day was long, and just as bright as the days were.

Señor Sarpinto had also preferred to leave the brig and sail with Captain Cawdor. Frank was very fond of this Spanish grandee, as he called him. To all appearance there was not much of the grandee about him. He was a man of about forty years of age, small in stature, but as strong and lithe as a puma; his dark eyes at times used to glare and glitter when he talked, as if fires really raged within him that could not be concealed. His love of adventure and sight-seeing was remarkable. This it was that had determined him to go with the skipper of the brig Resolute to the southern seas, where whales and seals were said to swarm. This same love of adventure had made a rover of him all his life. He was wealthy, extremely so. He did not tell anyone this boastingly; he simply admitted it, and added that he could not help being rich. He believed, he said, if he were stripped naked, and put down in the midst of an unknown island, he would become a wealthy man in less than ten years. He was born to sprout and flourish like a green bay-tree, and every new speculation he turned his thoughts to was successful.

Yet he would have been deeply offended at anyone who ever hinted that he cared for money. No wonder Deakin and Co. would have been sorry to lose so fortunate a partner as this Señor Sarpinto.

Not a part of the world, even the most remote, he had not visited, or if such regions did exist, they existed but to be visited some day or other by this same adventurous Spaniard.

Being therefore a citizen of the world it will surprise no one to be told that the English he spoke was faultless.

During the long voyage to New Zealand from the southern ice he had made quite a favourable and friendly impression on Fred, and never did he seem more happy than when sitting between the two lads on the quarter-deck of an evening, smoking and drinking sherbet. He would not sit in the dark, however.

"I must see the faces of those I talk to," he said.

So wherever at night the señor sat on deck a lantern was swung.

The lads were never tired listening to stories of his strange life and adventures; they were thrilling in the extreme. At the same time they were natural and naturally told.

Yet with all his nonchalance and his gaiety our heroes often noticed that at times there came into his face a look of weariness, nay, at times, even of utter woe, that used to sadden while it surprised them.

They were old enough and wise enough to know from this that Señor Sarpinto had a life-story he never told; that deep down at the bottom of his heart was a well-spring of sentiment, no drop from which ever in their presence found its way to the surface.

There was no need to hurry, this voyage, the señor told Captain Cawdor over and over again. Life among the beautiful islands of the southern Pacific was far too delightful, far too idyllic to be hurried over. But a ten-knot breeze had the same effect upon both Cawdor and his mate that a red rag had on a bull. It excited them, and clap on sail they would.

So the only way Señor Sarpinto could think of for delaying the voyage, was to ask for a boat to visit every island they came any way near. The voyage was all that could be desired for a fortnight and over. Then contrary winds blew. This state of affairs was succeeded by a hurricane or tornado that blew both vessels very much out of their course.

It was a night of fearful darkness and storm; but next morning, though the waves were still houses' high, the wind had fallen to a dead calm. But where was the Resolute?

Her lights had been seen at eight bells in the middle watch; but when the sun shot up at half-past six, and apparently changed the round, rolling waves into blood and fire, the brig was nowhere visible.

Here was Señor Sarpinto's chance come at last then, to delay the voyage for a short time.

He could never think of leaving his good brig and his faithful skipper, so he told Cawdor; but the captain really could not help perceiving that it mattered very little to the señor where the Resolute was. So he told him.

"Ah! then," was the reply, "for courtesy and politeness' sake we will lie to for some days till she comes up. Or we will creep around and look for her."

But the Resolute never appeared.

The waiting for her, however, led to events that were indeed but little looked for, as we shall presently see.

CHAPTER XIX.

A FAIRY ISLE—THE LOST BOAT.

Not a breath of wind, not a sigh came over the sea. Never a cloud as big even as a man's hand in all the bright steel-blue of heaven's great dome, only the slightest pearly haze lying low on the horizon wherever one might look, and all between the glittering sun-kissed ocean.

It was no dead ocean this, however, on which our heroes, leaning over the bulwarks and talking almost in whispers, were gazing. No, the great sea was not dead, but sleeping. Note the gentle heaving of its placid bosom, rising and falling as if 'twere imbued with the breath of life. The white-winged sea-gulls that float on the water seem to have been lulled to sleep, too, by that swelling motion. Even the ship herself nods drowsily to and fro, and the useless sails half fill and flap to every dip of the masts.

Yes, the surface of the sea is all a-glitter in the sun's rays; but it is not the sheen that sailors love, the reflection is like that from polished pewter, and forebodes either a long dead calm, or a sudden storm coming in a direction no man can even guess at.

There is languor in the tropical air to-day. Even some frigate birds appear to feel it, for they have alighted with their long, drooping wings on the top-most yards, and hardly care to fly again. The gulls sail slowly but silently round the ship, as if too indolent even to scream; yonder nautilus, or Portuguese man-o'-war, that looks as if it had borrowed its cerulean colours from the azure of the sky itself, can scarcely move along. There is not wind enough to fill even its dainty sails, and see, what is that lying over yonder dark and curious? Fred Arundel lazily lifts the glass, and gazes in that direction.

"It is a shark," he says with half a shudder, "asleep, I think, in the morning sunshine, and with sea birds perching on its fins."

Frank answers not. His eyes are riveted on some far-off green-fringed mountains. It is an island, but it does not seem to lie in the sea. No, it is up in the sky, and floating there like a veritable fairyland.

Now Frank yawns and stretches himself, and next moment a hand is laid on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Señor Sarpinto standing smiling beside him. He is in dressing-gown and slippers, with the never-failing cigarette between his lips.

"My young friend is tired."

"Si, señor," says Frank, "I am tired—tired doing nothing. I'd fain be yonder."

He points to the distant island.

Señor takes the telescope, and looks long and earnestly at it.

"Ah!" he says, or rather sighs, "what a land of delight it is! And all the islands around here, how rich and varied! Young Frank, the day will come when each will bear its own happy population of prosperous white men. There are not even savages on yonder isle. It waits but for a Christian population. And there is wealth yonder too, wealth untold!"

Fred looks at the Spaniard in some little surprise. He had never heard the man talk thus enthusiastically before. Then a happy idea appears to strike Frank all at once.

"Señor," he says, "you have influence with the captain. Ask him for a boat, that we may visit yonder isle."

"I will not go there to-day," replies the señor, shrugging his shoulders.

Frank's face falls.

"There is not a banana nor a cocoanut in the ship," he says with a faint smile.

Señor looks at him quizzingly.

"Ha!" he answers, "it is not the banana, it is not the cocoanut my young friend wants, but the wild adventure. Well, he shall not be disappointed."

Away below hurries the Spaniard; but he soon returns laughing.

"You are to take the gig, your friend Fred, Quambo for your porter, little Cassia-bud for your coxswain and to climb the cocoanut-trees, the dog for companion, and one man besides.

"But I have promised you will return as soon as the flag is hoisted at the peak."

"Hurrah!" cry Frank and Fred both in one breath, and in five minutes more down rushes the boat, and all are in and off.

The young men wave their caps to the señor, who kisses his hand. Then they seize the oars, and off they push.

"Nay, but," cries Fred, "the occasion demands a song, and Quambo here is capable of a capital bass."

And for twenty minutes at least those on board the ship could hear the music from the distant boat come quavering over the waves, and for some time could even distinguish the words—

"Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast;
The rapids are near, and the daylight is past."

At long last Señor Sarpinto sees the green of the distant island swallow them up, as the boat appears to have climbed the very sky itself into that floating fairyland.

* * * * * *

Hours and hours went by, the sun had mounted higher and higher, and for a time blazed almost perpendicularly down on the broiling deck, then gradually begun to decline.

"I think," said Captain Cawdor, "the lads must have had enough of it now. Hoist the recall, Mr. Nelson." This to the mate.

The mate did as he was told, and the flag hung from the peak like a red rope, for there was no wind to lift its heavy folds.

Two minutes after the mate shouted, "Stand by there forward, lads; there is a puff of wind coming."

And sure enough patches of wrinkles began to appear here and there on the gloss of the sea's surface, as if handfuls of sand had been thrown on it. Soon these catspaws gather force and come together. The frigate-birds wake up and throw themselves from the yards, the seagulls are screaming now, the sails catch the breeze and bellow out.

Luckily the wind comes from the right direction, so she is kept away, and steered for the distant island.

Distant island? Yes, yonder green island that appears to float in the sky. The fairy-isle, as the lads called it, while they went singing and rowing towards it.

The señor had gone forward to the bow, where around the weather bulwarks was a group of men with a puzzled half-frightened expression on their faces. No one speaks; but a dozen hands are pointed in the direction of the green island.

It has strangely altered in appearance. The hills are lower. It has lengthened out along the horizon. It is receding as the ship advances.

Señor beckons to the captain, who comes hurrying forward, and speedily turns his glass towards the island. Just then some clouds that had come up out of the sea with the wind abaft obscure the sun, and lo! the fairy isle disappears, as if suddenly engulphed in the ocean.

Hardly knowing what he is doing, the captain keeps bewilderedly sweeping the sea for a time with the glass; but never a sign of land is to be seen, only the clearly defined line 'twixt ocean and sky, for the haze has lifted or melted away.

A strange wave of superstitious dread rushes over the hearts of the men standing there near the winch, and one or two of them are deadly pale.

A sailor, more bold than the rest, clutches the captain's arm.

"Tell us, sir," he gasps, "What does it all mean?"

"Alas! lads, it means a mirage."

"Pardon me, sir, but I take leave to doubt it."

"You do?"

"I do, sir. That island lasted too long and clearly for a mirage."

"And you think?"

"I think, sir, that the isle we saw was as solid as the ship we stand upon, and that it has sunk."

"Such things have happened," said the captain. "At least they tell me so; but——. No, no; the island was a mirage. Yet, none the less, the boat is lost."

* * * * * *

The wind that had been blowing steadily from the east now began to fall, and in a very few minutes it was once more a dead and strangely impressive calm.

But clouds were now banking up in every direction. A curious blackness had overspread the sky to the nor'ard; a blackness that appeared to be steadily advancing, blotting out the sea as it came, and accompanied by dancing, quivering lightning, that appeared to run along the surface of the water. Ominous thunders too began to roll, and before sufficient sail was taken in the storm had burst all round them.

For a time there was only mist and blackness, but shortly the rain came down in sheets, the thunder-claps were deafening, and the sea looked like sheets of fire. Anon the wind came, and such a wind. Little sail had been left on her, but the squall appeared to lift the great barque almost out of the water. For a moment she plunged bows first into it, quivering all over from stem to stern like a stricken deer; then, as if fear lent her fleetness, she dashed forward and tore through the wind-chafed ocean, with a speed that the oldest sailor on board had never seen equalled.

All that day the wind blew with hurricane force, and all the next night, then once again the weather cleared. But a gloom that could not be dispelled had settled over the ship, and when four days afterwards, after searching fruitlessly for the lost boat, the San Salvador bore up once more on her course, all the life and soul seemed clean gone out of every man on board.

Perhaps the most unhappy man of all was Señor Sarpinto.

"Oh," he said over and over again to Captain Cawdor, "I'd rather have lost all my fortune than that this terrible affliction should have befallen us."

"My dear sir," said the captain, "we must not repine. We are all in the hands of a merciful Father, who knows what is best for His children here below."

"Oh," cried Sarpinto, "you are good, Captain Cawdor, you are good. But do not try to cheer me up, I must and shall repine. It is my comfort to repine, for, captain, was not the fault all mine, and now I have lost the only being I seem ever to have loved on earth—save one. All my good fortune appears to have deserted me, and my life is closing in darkness and gloom."

What words of consolation could Captain Cawdor find to assuage grief like this? He stretched out his hand and grasped that of the señor.

"I too am in grief," he said quietly.

"Oh, yes, yes!" cried Sarpinto. "I had forgotten. Forgive me, my poor friend. I am selfish. But now for your sake I will try to be brighter, happier."

CHAPTER XX.

"WHAT THEIR FATE WAS TO BE THEY COULD NOT EVEN GUESS."

After the boat left the San Salvador, with little Cassia-bud steering, and the great Newfoundland, Hurricane Bob, lying at his feet by way of balancing her, and keeping her well down by the stern, "Steer right away for the island," cried Fred. "We are going to row and sing, and never look behind us."

But when they had rowed for fully half an hour, and the ship looked very far away indeed, Frank, who was stroke, lay on his oar, and the others followed suit.

"Why," he said, peeping round, "we ought to be there by now."

"Dear me!" cried Fred, "how deceiving! The island looks as far away as ever!"

"Yes, and it has altered in appearance somehow, hasn't it?"

"Well, of course; but then we are low down in the water, you know. Anyhow, I'm hungry and thirsty both. Happy thought, to have a rest and some lunch."

The good things were brought out accordingly, and everybody, even Hurricane Bob, shared and shared alike. Then Quambo lit a huge pipe, and Magilvray, the sailor—a stout young fellow with a merry-looking face of his own—bit a huge quid off a stick of niggerhead, and began to look very contented indeed.

After another half-hour's pulling catspaws began to creep over the water, and a sail was hoisted.

"We'll soon be there now," said Fred.

Immediately after there was a cry from the little black coxswain.

"Oh, massa Fred, I's so frightened!"

"Whatever is the matter, Kashie?"

"See, sah, see!" he cried, pointing away ahead. "De island done go clear away out ob de world, sah!"

It was difficult indeed for any one in the boat to believe his senses. Every one felt dazed, and looked dazed. The island was gone sure enough; yet how or whither seemed inexplicable.

But the wind kept increasing every minute, and to go back now in the teeth of it was utterly impossible. So on and on the little boat flew for a time. The sea had got up so high too, all at once, that they were afraid to venture on lying to, and to lower sail meant being pooped by the racing, threatening waves.

How long they ran before the wind they never could tell. They had given themselves up for lost, however, and sat there in the gathering gloom of the awful thunder-storm silent and despairing, like men without hope and energy.

Fred himself had taken the tiller, and Cassia-bud was crouched in the bottom of the boat, hugging his friend Bob in abject terror.

In five minutes' time the boat was drawn up on the snow-white coral beach, and the thunder-storm had burst over them in all its violence.

By-and-by the sky partially cleared, and though the wind still blew high they crept out from the shelter of a cave in which they had found refuge, and began seriously to consider their position.

It was some time, however, before the whole extent of their misfortune was fully realized by them.

But as the time went on, and the hurricane appeared to be again on the increase, causing them to seek for shelter once more in the cave, a hurricane such as no ship dare attempt to lie-to in, then indeed hope began to die out in their hearts, and they felt they were alone. They felt this still more when the sun went down, and pitch darkness almost immediately followed.

They dared even yet, however, to hope against hope; the ship would surely return and seek for and find them. It was gloomy enough in this cave certainly, with the wind tearing through the scrubby jungle and the cocoa-nut palms that covered the little island, and with the awful boom of the breakers on the circular reef of coral surrounding the lagoon, but then it was only for a night.

"Only for a night," said Frank.

"Yes, only for a night," reiterated Fred.

"If we had a light, though, it would be all the more cheerful."

"Yes, well I have matches, but there is nothing here to light."

"We'd better keep the matches," said Frank. "Are you sure you have them safe and dry?"

"But why so anxious, lad?"

"I don't know. I——I——"

"Oh, brother, don't think of it! I'm going out to feel for the boat and fetch the supper."

"And I'll go with you."

In the darkness this was no easy task, and the wind was so high they had to bend low, almost crawling in fact.

But they were lucky enough to find the food, and a portion being handed round to everybody, not forgetting Bob, all hands did justice to the good cheer, and then Quambo and Magilvray lit their pipes, and the cave was more home-like after that.

They sat talking there till it must have been far into the night, then, lying back on the soft, warm sand, one by one they dropped off to sleep.

They had not even thought of setting sentry. What was there here to be afraid of? Nothing, surely. Besides, the great, honest dog, Hurricane Bob, always made a point of sleeping with one eye a little open, so if anyone was sentry that night it was Bob.

The sun was high in the heavens when Fred awoke next morning, and shouted to his companions:

"What's for breakfast?" said Frank, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Ah! what indeed?" said Fred, laughing. "Why we ate all our breakfast last night. But where is Cassia-bud?"

Cassia-bud was not to be seen, but presently he appeared out of the jungle laden with cocoanuts and pandany. This pandany or pandanus is the screw pine, which grows on nearly all the islands of these regions, and is one of the first to appear when coral reefs assume the shape and substance of islands, the seed being either floated thither on tree trunks or brought by birds.

Finding the cocoanuts had been a far too easy task, for every tree was levelled almost to the ground, one alone being left standing.

After breakfast Fred and Frank set out to explore the island, leaving the others on the beach with the boat. This exploration did not occupy much time, the whole island being only a few acres in extent, and scarcely anything growing on it except the few cocoanut trees, and the strange-looking scrubby pandanus. This tree, the leaves of which are like big vegetable corkscrews, grows from roots that are above ground, like the legs of a milking-stool, somewhat after the fashion of the mangrove trees of African shores.

The wind had almost died away, but the breakers still thundered on the reef that surrounded the lagoon. I trust I make the position of our heroes clear enough; the little island was nearly round, and entirely surrounded by a broad natural moat, let us call it, of water, which in its turn was encircled by the coral reef. The moat, however, was about seventy yards wide or more all round.

They now launched the boat, and embarking pulled right round the inside of the reef, with the view of finding out the lane therein that led to the sea. They did so at last, but it was so narrow that the presumption was, they had been carried right over the reef itself, on the previous day, by a high tidal wave.

Like nearly all Scotch boys who are brought up in the woods and wilds, Fred Arundel could climb trees well. It did not take him very long, therefore, to shin to the top of the solitary cocoanut tree, although it was fully forty feet in height. It afforded a splendid ocean view all around, and Fred managed to unsling his telescope, and scan the horizon on every side. As far as he could make out never a ship nor sail of any kind was visible, but his heart beat high with hope and joy when, away towards the south, his glass rested on what appeared to be the hills or mountains of some island in the midst of the sea.

His hopes fell again, however, when he thought of the fairy island that had lured them away from the ship the day before. This also might be a mirage. Well, if it were so it would dissolve away; they could but wait and see. So he came down again to report.

It was far on in the afternoon before they succeeded in getting enough dry stuff to light a fire withal.

Meantime Cassia-bud, who had constituted himself caterer and lions' provider, had found some huge crabs, and having killed them they were cooked in their shells, and a very delicious meal they made, washed down with a drink of cool milk from young cocoanuts.

When they had dined more bark was heaped upon the fire, and green stuff spread over that in order to raise as dense a smoke as possible. For trailing across the blue sea of the tropics smoke may be seen a very long distance off.

Before sunset Fred once more ascended the tree or look-out station, as he called it, and once more scanned the horizon. It was much clearer now, but no sail was visible.

But to his joy the island in the south was still there. So he concluded it must be real.

Cassia-bud had been paddling about in the lagoon all by himself, and just as the sun was dipping low towards the ocean he landed, and with a face that positively beamed with joy he threw down five beautiful fish at Fred's feet. They were beautiful in colour as well as in size and substance. "How lucky we were to have brought fishing-gear with us," cried Fred; "and really, Kashie, you're a perfect treasure."

Meanwhile Quambo had cleared the fire and erected a tripod of sticks over it with cross-pieces, and on this the fish were hung, and soon began to fizzle and steam.

Fred and Frank were lying on the smooth white sand, watching Quambo's preparations for supper. "I say, Fred," said Frank, "what does this remind you of?"

The tears rushed to Fred's eyes.

"Oh, Frank, I well remember! You are thinking of our Crusoe life on the desert island in Scotland. Ah! dear me, and now we are Crusoes in stern reality."

"Don't you wish that Toddie was here? Dear wee Toddie and the little dog Tip."

"I do and I don't. I wish we could only bring back old times, when you and I were young, though."

"Ah! well, we're not very particularly old yet, are we?"

"Supper is all ready, sah," said Quambo. And a glorious supper it was; for everyone was gloriously hungry.

The only part of yesterday's provisions that still held out was the salt. For in his hurry, when coming away, Quambo had rolled an immense piece in a table napkin.

There was enough fish left for breakfast, but they took the precaution to stow it away in the locker of the boat.

Next day and another and still another passed monotonously away, and it was now evident to all they might never expect to see their ship again. And do as they would, they now began to feel lonely and cheerless.

They were prisoners in this cockle-shell of a coral island, and the hope of being picked up seemed very remote indeed. Meanwhile what about food even? The fish might possibly fail them, the robber crabs might keep aloof, and they would soon eat up all the cocoanuts and pandanus fruit in the place.

To remain here, therefore, was but to wait for death, and to attempt to get away was—well, what was it?

"What do you think about it, Frank," said Fred one evening, as they all lay on the soft sand, with the cheerful light of the camp fire flickering in their faces.

"About what?" said Frank, whose thoughts had been far, far away indeed.

"Why about attempting to escape?"

"Oh, we are, very likely, a thousand miles and over from any civilized settlement!"

"Quite true, but the island yonder, for it is no mirage, affords us the chance of life that this island will very soon deny us."

"How far does it seem to be off, sir?" said Magilvray.

"As near as I can judge, about forty miles."

"A long pull, sir."

"True," said Fred; "but better, I think, to start early on a calm day and pull all the way, than trust to the treacherous winds of these regions, which in half an hour may increase to hurricane force."

"That is so, sah, for true," said Quambo.

"Then," said Frank, "supposing we manage to land there, what next?"

Quambo smiled grimly.

"What are you thinking about, Quambo?"

"I think, sah, dat if sabages lib on de island yonder, dey soon cook us all and gobble us up plenty quick. Dat all, sah."

"Yes, Quambo," said Frank, "that would be all."

There was silence for a time after this, a silence that Fred Arundel was the first to break.

"Boys," he said solemnly enough, "I believe I have thought the matter out in all its bearings. To me it is evident enough, that our only chance of life lies in an attempt to reach yonder island, and if death it is going to be, surely it is better to die at once, even at the hands of savages, then stay here to be slowly starved to death."

"That is just what I think too, sir," said Magilvray, "and what is more, the sooner we set about it the better."

So it was resolved that very night, that all preparations for the daring voyage should be gone into next day, and that on the day following, if the weather were favourable, they should leave the island.

Fred slept more calmly that night than he had done since they landed. Before lying down he had gone away by himself for a little distance into the jungle, and kneeling down beside a fallen tree, prayed long and earnestly that He who had hitherto protected and guided him through many a danger, seen and unseen, would condescend to bless their little enterprise, and grant them hope and safety.

He sat for some time on the tree stem, for the stars were shining very brightly and clearly, then slowly returned to the cave, and threw himself down on the warm white sand; and thinking of home and the dear ones in the fisherman's cottage, he was soon fast asleep. The preparations for the voyage were few but important; namely, the procuring and cooking of a good supply of food.

But fortune favoured them. They loaded their boat therefore the night before, and as soon as day broke over the ocean they rowed out through the narrow opening in the reef, and headed away for the distant island. What their fate was to be they could not even guess. They trusted all to God.

CHAPTER XXI.

"A LAND FLOWING WITH COCOANUT-MILK AND HONEY."

A day of more anxiety or of greater fatigue it would have been difficult to conceive, than that which our heroes endured, in their perilous voyage towards the unknown island. The sun blazed almost perpendicularly down on them at mid-day. Both Fred and Frank had been red before, but now it seemed as though they would soon be burned as black as Quambo or Cassia-bud himself. So fierce was the sun's heat that neither of the lads could partake of the food they had taken with them. Their thirst became almost unbearable at last, and the cocoanut milk, or rather water from the young nuts, which they drank, appeared rather to increase than to assuage their thirst. What would they not have given for a draught of cool spring water from the little rill that trickled from the rock near the igloo at Methlin! Strange that they should have both been thinking about this at the same time, but so it soon turned out.

"I know where I should like to be, Fred, just for five minutes," said Frank, as they paused for a moment's rest.

"Oh, I know!" cried Fred; "at the igloo fountain!"

"Yes, lying under the rocks there, and watching the water trickling through the green grass and the rushes, and laving my brow with it, and filling my hands with the clear water, and drinking from my hands."

"Oh, I shouldn't! I should stick my mouth right into the well at the foot, and I don't think I would ever stop drinking."

It is not to be wondered at that in their dire extremity the boys talked thus; for I have found from experience that the next best thing to eating food or drinking water, when you are very hungry or thirsty, and cannot get any, is to think of it. This is natural, and seems to soothe one. When lying ill of a burning fever on African shores, I remember that in my dreams I used to fancy myself wandering by rippling burns in my far-off home in Scotland.

To-day Cassia-bud was coxswain as usual, but towards afternoon, when thoroughly faint and weary, many a look behind them did the rowers cast.

To make matters worse, they found that when still three miles at least away from the island the current was so strong it began to be a matter of doubt whether they should ever reach it.

The boat's head was kept well up therefore, and all hands redoubled their efforts to send her on. Fred even started a song, but for once in a way this was a failure. There was nothing for it but to struggle on in silence.

At long last they got clear out of the race of the tide, and now it remained to find a landing-place.

The island was a very lovely and romantic-looking one indeed, an island evidently formed at first by volcanic upheaval, but now green-clad, to the summit of its strangely-shaped hills, with a luxuriance of tropical vegetation such as no one in the boat had ever seen surpassed.

It was doubtless the reflected image of this beautiful isle of the sea, that had caused the mirage which lost our heroes their ship.

They now lay on their oars for a time, to rest and think. It seemed evident that the island was uninhabited. Never a canoe was seen anywhere near it, nor were there any signs of hut or habitation by the beach, and never a vestige of smoke.

However, it appeared to be a very large island, and as yet they had seen but a portion of it. They first made the northern end of it; but here all around was a wall of black beetling crags frowning over the sea, the waves dashing up the sides of it and breaking into snow-white foam with a booming noise, that, mingling with the cry of sea-birds, made a wild and weird-like chorus on the still evening air.

There was no time to be lost, for the sun was rapidly declining; so, noticing that the dip of the hills trended to the southward and west, they made haste to row in that direction. The crags got lower and lower, but jutted out to sea at last, forming a cape or rocky promontory. Once past this, they found a coral reef lying all along the tree-shaded shore, about three hundred yards distant from it. On this the breakers were dashing with great force, and tossing their white arms high in air.

They rowed along the edge of this terrible barrier; and just as they were about to despair of finding an opening, beheld in front of them a narrow, very narrow, creek of unbroken water.

"Hard a-port, Kashia! Round with her, boy!"

"Ha'd a-po't it is, sah!" cried Cassia-bud.

Round came the boat like a beauty, and next moment they were carried right into a splendid reef-locked harbour, large enough for the whole British navy to have lain snugly and comfortably in.

"Heaven be praised!" said Fred with a sigh, as he paused to wipe the perspiration from his brow.

In ten minutes more they had landed.

The sun was by this time nearly touching the water's edge; and almost before they had time to draw the boat well up, and find shelter from the dews of night under some friendly boughs, his last rays were tinging the foam of the breakers with crimson.

"Now, Quambo, open me a nice green cocoa-nut," cried Fred. "I can drink now, and presently I think I'll be able to eat as well."

Tired in the extreme though every one was, supper was eaten and thoroughly enjoyed. But soon after this Nature would not be denied; and although a daring attempt at conversation was made, it utterly failed, and one by one the Crusoes dropped soundly off to sleep.

* * * * * *

The shadows of the mountains lay across the reef-locked harbour when Fred Arundel awoke next morning. The others were fast asleep, little Cassia-bud as usual with Hurricane Bob's paws drawn round his neck. So Fred got quietly up, and walked down to the beach. How clear and cool the water looked! How serene and beautiful the morning! The temptation to bathe was too great to be resisted, so he divested himself of his garments, and was soon splashing and swimming about to his heart's content. He had gone but a little way out, however, and was just thinking how delightful it would be to swim right away over to the reef and back, when his attention was attracted by the strange conduct of the Newfoundland. He was running along the edge of the beach, not only barking, but positively bellowing. A sudden and terrible fear at that moment got possession of Fred's senses. His very heart grew cold. He seemed to feel as powerless for the time being as a person under the spell of some hideous nightmare. It was gone in a second or two, and he was hastening towards the beach. He never looked behind him till safe on shore. It was well for him perhaps he did not, for a glance told him then that the water was teeming with monster sharks. The joy of the dog appeared to know no bounds, and if it had not been for this faithful fellow, poor Fred would undoubtedly have met a terrible fate.

As soon as breakfast was finished, it was determined to make an exploration of Good Hope Island, as they had named it. For aught they knew it might be inhabited by savages, in which case, instead of being "monarchs of all they surveyed," they would very soon be slaves, if indeed their lives should be spared.

It was arranged, therefore, that Magilvray and Hurricane Bob should be boatkeepers, and remain on the beach, while Fred and Frank went towards the hill-tops to make a general survey, and Quambo with little Kashie should "spy out the land" with reference to its food resources.

That the island was inhabited, Fred and his friend had not to advance far before finding out. The jungle was seemingly impenetrable at first, and while forcing their way through it they came upon some very ugly customers in the shape of snakes. Whether harmless or otherwise it was impossible to tell. When, however, they found one hanging to the branches of a tree they considered it best to give it a wide berth.

If there were no more dangerous beings in the island than snakes, they made up their minds that they would be content and thankful.

Presently as they got upon higher ground the trees got larger and more sparse. They soon found themselves on the ridge of what was evidently the highest mountain in the island. Owing to its being so well wooded it was seldom they could catch a glimpse of the world beyond; but soon it ended in a bare bluff covered with rough withered grass, and studded here and there with cactus bushes.

In less than half an hour they had reached the top, and sat down to rest. And lo! all the island, with its hills and dells and forests, and its wonderful flowering trees, was spread out at their feet, and all around was an unlimited expanse of ocean, asleep in the morning sunshine. For the most part the sea was blue, yet a blue so soft, so ethereal, as surely no artist in this world ever yet transferred to his canvas. Along the reefs that guarded the island were long lines of snow-white—the breaking water—and two sides were bounded by beaches of silvery sand. But as far as eye could reach not a dot nor particle of land was at first to be seen, with the exception of the little isle, with its rock-girt lagoon, which they had left yesterday morning.

They seemed to be right in the centre of a lonesome ocean, and in all probability on an island that was not even marked on the chart. Of this, however, they could have no certainty.

How very still it was up here on this high hill-top. The slightest sounds could be heard from below. Their camping ground, on the beach, must have been a good mile off, yet every now and then they could distinctly hear the deep mellow bark of the great Newfoundland dog. Somewhere in the woods, busy at work doubtless, were Quambo and Kashie, for occasionally their merry ringing laughter was audible enough. Nearer still were heard the joy-songs of thousands of happy birds; and, mingling with all, the drowsy monotone of the waves breaking on the coral reef.

Fred and Frank sat for quite a long time in silence, but by the look of calmness on the face of each, their thoughts could not have been unpleasant.

"Well, Frank," said Fred at last, "what do you think of the outlook?"

"What, the scenery or our prospects?"

"Well, both for instance."

"Why I never saw more charming scenery in my life. Its very lonesomeness, I think, is its chief charm. Just look at that immensity of sea stretching all round us, Fred. If it were not so blue and so bright it might be even a little eeriesome in its very lone beauty."

"Yes, Frank; but don't you see that very lonesomeness may prove our safety? With my glass now, just away out yonder, I seem able to raise the peak of a mountain, but it is very far away. I daresay it is an inhabited island, and very likely there is a group of them. Well, Captain Cawdor told me that all the islands for hundreds of miles around were filled with races of implacable savages and cannibals. But I think we are too far off to be visited by them. If they did come, heaven only knows what would happen, because we are not nearly numerous enough to fight them; so I am sure we are perfectly safe."

"So am I," said Frank, "and I feel very much inclined to enjoy the dolce far niente and just let things slide."

"So do I. Wouldn't you rather be a barrister though than a Crusoe?"

"Oh, Fred, just think of being stowed away in a stuffy cobwebby old office in smoky London, and thinking nothing about, or knowing nothing about, such a glorious free and easy life as this.

"True, Frank, and to think that it is not a long time since we were away down at the bottom of the map, as you might say, in the darkness and cold that reigns perpetually around the southern sea of ice! And to think, Frank, that I should have found you there!"

"That is the best of it. Oh, it just had to be, Fred!"

"Well," replied Fred, "I'm so glad. And do you remember the vow we made when little chaps, and while playing at Crusoes in Scotland?"

"What, to be brothers, Fred? Yes, lad, and here I do renew it."

Once more hands were clasped and eye met eye.

"Brothers yet," said Frank.

"Brothers ever," said Fred.

Then hand in hand down the hill they went towards the camp singing—singing quite as gaily as the bright-winged birds that hopped from bough to bough in those beautiful sunny woods.

They lingered here and there in glades and openings to gaze and wonder at the marvellous display of life everywhere spread out before them in jungle and forest. The air was filled with the hum of myriads of insects, the ground and ferns and bushes of every sort were instinct with life and joy, and happiness too, apparently. The beetles even were a sight to see, in their gorgeous metallic tints of blue and green and crimson, and the butterflies that floated from flower to flower, on shrub or tree, looked like splendidly-painted fans, while a rich and luscious perfume filled the air, that in some of the more sunny glades was almost overpowering.

Quambo and Cassia-bud were both back before our heroes. They came smiling to meet them.

"Well, boys," said Fred, "I see you're back, and I know you haven't come empty-handed."

"Oh no, massa!" said little Kashie, seizing Fred by the hand. "Run quick and see, massa."

He led Fred to the boat. Why the stern-sheets were laden with luscious fruit, even the names of many of which neither Frank nor Fred could tell. Nor had these faithful blacks forgotten to bring flowers. But this was not all, for Kashie pointed triumphantly to a dozen "sonsy" fish he had caught, and Quambo tapped the boat's breaker significantly—it was filled to the brim with pure, delicious water.

Nor had Magilvray been idle all the forenoon. He had not only a clear fire burning and ready to cook the dinner, but he had, by cutting down green boughs, succeeded in making a cool and delightful tent, that should be impervious to the heaviest shower that could fall.

Fred, as he looked around him at all these preparations for health and comfort, could not help laughing with very joy.

"Why, Frank," he cried, "and boys all, fortune has taken a turn for the better, and led us to a land that is literally flowing with milk and honey."

"Cocoanut milk and honey, yes," said Frank, laughing in his turn. "There are certainly busy bees about."

Then down the two brothers threw themselves in the cool, green shade to talk and build castles in the air till dinner was ready.

CHAPTER XXII.

A TERRIBLE APPARITION.

They spent the afternoon dreamily wandering about in the woods or on the beach; for Fred and Frank, not being used to real hard manual labour, had hardly yet got over the fatigues of the day before. But Quambo and Magilvray were not so idle. They were busy cutting down the dead branches in the jungle, and bearing them to the beach to serve as firewood. They soon had an immense pile handy.

So all the evening, from half-past six, when it fell dark, till everybody turned in for the night, the camp fire was kept alight. Not that heat was needed by any means, but simply because, as Fred phrased it, "it looked cosy."

* * * * * *

And now, although these marooned mariners determined to take life easy, and make themselves as happy and comfortable as circumstances would permit, they took means, nevertheless, by which it was possible that the attention of some passing ship might be arrested, and so perchance their deliverance effected. This consisted in erecting a beacon on the hill-top, and on the very next morning they set about the work.

For once in a way little Cassia-bud was left, in company with Hurricane Bob, to mind the camp, while the others betook themselves to the mountain. Under the circumstances the task of preparing and hoisting the beacon was by no means a very simple one. It was easy to find a tree long and straight and tall enough, but having no other tools but their jackknives, it took a very long time indeed to cut it down, to trim, and hoist it.

At first it was proposed by Frank, and seconded by Magilvray, to turn the beacon into a kind of flagstaff, the flag itself being a large piece of spare canvas that happened to be in the boat.

"There is this objection to your plan," said Fred, laughing, "canvas doesn't make much of a show as a flag; it doesn't dry easy after a shower; and if it once gets wound round the pole it will cling like death to a dead nigger. No, I say let it be a beacon; and I've heard Daddy Pop remark, in days of old, Frank, that there is no beacon so effective as a broom."

"All right then," said Fred, "let us hoist the broom."

So the broom-beacon was hoisted accordingly; and if the reader wants to know what it looked like when up, let him imagine a tall and sturdy flagstaff with a huge bunch of branches attached to the very summit of it.

It looked splendid, I do assure you, and was not only visible from the camp, but capable of being seen from far at sea. After it was up, and the pole firmly fixed by means of stones rammed well home by hitting them hammer-fashion with other stones, Fred took off his cap, and waving it round his head timed his companions with a "Hip, hip, hip!" to three rattling good British cheers.

"Wowff—wowff—wowff!" that was the sound of Hurricane Bob's voice in response to the cheers, and it was afterwards discovered that little Cassia-bud, well knowing that his own feeble cheering would not be heard, had excited the dog to bark.

"Well," said Magilvray, looking up at the broom, "I must say, young gents, as how I'd 'ave preferred seeing a flag flyin'. The broom looks Dutch, don't it?"

"Oh, yes! by-the-by," said Frank, "Mac is right, Fred. There was a great Dutch admiral, you remember who once hoisted a broom at the mainmast head, and swore he wouldn't take it down again till he had swept the British from the seas. What was his name? Von Trump, or Von Dunk, or something, wasn't it?"

"Van der Decken!" said Fred seriously.

"You're laughing at me," said Frank. "But come on, men, I'm as hungry as a tiger, and nothing to eat but cold fish and fruit when we get home."

No wonder, indeed, that all hands were hungry; for hoisting the broom had taken them nearly the whole day.

They reached the beach about two hundred yards from the camp. Cassia-bud had heard them coming along through the bush, and had run along the white soft sands to meet them, Hurricane Bob bringing up the rear. Kashie was breathless, not with running, but with fear. It must be remembered he was little more than a child. The giant Quambo took him up in his arms, and clinging to his big friend's neck he cast frightened glances seawards, looking the very picture of abject terror.

"Oh, massa!" he gasped, looking piteously at Fred, "I'se seen de debbil, and I not want to stop any more all by myse'f near the sea."

"Seen the devil, Kashie! What do you mean, boy? When did you see him? What was he like, eh?"

"Oh, sah, he like one awful big fish, bigger than a boat, sah! He jump right up out ob de sea one, two, tree time. Jump right high up in de sky; and he all black, wid awful eyes, sah, and, oh! sah, he had nuffin on but his head. It was de debbil, sah, fob true."

Fred and Frank both burst out laughing, but the poor child seemed really and truly scared nearly out of his wits.

"Well," said Fred, "it is evident Cassia-bud has seen something. But surely the island is haunted! What a fearful apparition! The head of a fish as big as a boat, and awful eyes, or, as Kashie calls it, a fish with 'nuffin on but his head,' leaping black against the blue of the sky. Horrible!"

It took quite a long time to comfort Kashie; but when at last Fred said, "Well, come along, Kash, I'm hungry, bring out the cold fish," then Kashie wriggled out of Quambo's arms, and off he ran in front.

It would be hard to say whether our hungry heroes were more pleased or surprised to find that the boy had cooked them a capital dinner of roasted fish, crab, and plantains. The latter ate like mealy potatoes. Moreover, he had been up in the bush, and had found plates growing on the trees, big broad scented leaves of the lemon Hibiscus, and beside each plate stuck in the soft sand was a green cocoa-nut all ready to drink.*

* The green cocoa-nut contains scarcely any kernel, but about a quart of most delightful, cool, and delicious water.

Poor little Kashie gradually grew happier now, and was soon his laughing white-toothed rolling-eyed little self again. And as for the others, they had not felt so cheerful and merry since they had been accidentally marooned.

I must say here at once, and be done with it, that one cause of the extra jollity exhibited by Quambo and Magilvray, was rooted in the fact that on this very day the giant negro had found a species of wild tobacco growing on the mountain side. I think it is called krava or grava by natives of Polynesia. I only judge by the sound. However Magilvray said to Fred more than once that evening that a load was lifted off his mind.

"I don't mind wanting rum or coffee," he said, "but better 'ang me at once, sir, than cut off my bit o' baccy. So here's good luck to 'Ope Island, says I."

And with that brief speech Magilvray took a large drink from his cocoa-nut, and stuck it in the sand again, with a look of satisfaction that was most refreshing to behold.

Long after the sun went down that night there was bright moonlight.

Only half a moon was shining it is true, but the air being so clear everything was almost as bright as day in England.

"What do you say to a row on the lake to-night?" said Fred.

"Yes, happy thought!" cried Frank, "a row and a song."

The sheet of smooth water betwixt the reef and the shore was called the lake by our Crusoes.

It was indeed a lovely night; a bank of coral-white clouds lay low on the horizon, otherwise the dark blue sky-depths were studded over with silvery stars of singular brilliancy, while the moon shed a broad band of clearest light across the rippling sea.

Shorewards the hills, and glens, and groves of cocoa palms were softened and spiritualized by the moon's mellow rays.

To-night Magilvray stayed at home with little Kashie, while Quambo and Frank rowed the boat, Fred took the tiller, and Hurricane Bob stood in the bows.

But Fred had another duty to perform, he had to lead the singing.

What a happy, hopeful time is youth! Here were our two heroes cast away on a lonely island in the midst of the sea, far removed from the tracks of commerce, with no means of communicating with the outer world—buried alive one might say—yet on this bright, beautiful night, rowing about on the placid bosom of the bay, as devoid of all thought and care as if sailing on Loch Lomond or Windermere. Some portion of the happiness they felt, and the hopefulness too, was undoubtedly due to the climate itself. The air here is so pure, the breath of the ocean, mingling with the spicy odours from off the island, so balmy, so life-giving, that only to exist is to live, only to have being is calmness and content combined.

For two whole hours they rowed up and down their lake, singing the songs of their far-off native land, only desisting now and then to lean on their oars and talk of home and dear old times—times that appeared to their young minds already long buried in the distant past.

They were slowly paddling along the inside of the reef, just beyond the range of the falling spray. But this last was but little to-night, for the tide was well out, and there was scarcely any swell on.

Yet the sound of the breaking waters was very soothing, and caused them to linger longer alongside the reef than they might otherwise have done.

Fred was just clearing his throat for another song, when he was attracted by the strange attitude of the Newfoundland. The dog was standing with his forepaws on the gunwale of the boat, his ears were forward, his hair on end from head to tail, and uttering a low, half-frightened, but ominous growl.

"Look at the dog," cried Fred. "He sees or hears something on the reef or over it."

The idea of savages in their canoes at once occurred to Frank, for nobody was even yet sure that the island was entirely uninhabited.

"Better pull a little way in, I think," said Frank.

"Give way then," said Fred.

The oars were silently dipped into the water, all three men listening intently at the time, with their faces turned towards the reef.

Suddenly on the other side of the surf they distinctly heard a hustling, rushing, fearful noise, accompanied by a low but startling cry, as of some creature in dire distress.

Nearer and nearer with almost the speed of a rocket it seemed to come, then ceased entirely, but at the same time, betwixt them and the moonlight, at least fifteen feet high in the air, they beheld an apparition that, in such a situation, was enough to frighten the boldest man that ever lived.

It was simply the great black head and two fins—no more apparently—of a monster fish with goggle eyes and open mouth. It took the water near the boat, raising a wave of breaking water that all but swamped it, and was seen no more.

When Fred looked up he saw both Quambo and Frank crouched down almost in the bottom of the boat, though it was half full of water.

Frank was the first to speak.

"Mercy on us!" he cried. "What was that?"

"Favaroo! favaroo!" said Quambo. "That is favaroo." His voice trembled as he spoke. "A devil fish; de evil spirit bite all away his body one day, and now he go everywhere trying to find he."

"Oh!" cried Fred, laughing now, "that is really the awful creature that little Kashie took for 'de debbil that hadn't got nuffin on but his head.' It is a sunfish as big as an elephant."

"Well," said Frank, "I've heard of such visitations, but I didn't know the beast could jump like that before. Let us bail out the boat. Why she is half swamped!"