On, on, flew the frigate. It was indeed a time of intense anxiety to all on board. The officers were collected near the captain. A short consultation was held. Some of the men thought that they were going to put the ship about, under the belief that she would lie up taller on the other tack. Should she miss stays, however, and of that there was the greatest danger, her almost instant destruction would be the consequence. No; the captain would not make the attempt. He would trust to a change of wind. Should it come ahead, then there would be time enough to go about; if not, it would be best to stand on. They were in God's hands, not their own. Mr Charlton and the second lieutenant were seen going aloft, with their telescopes at their backs. Eagerly they scanned the line of breakers. It seemed sometimes as if no human being could hold on up there on the mast, with the hurricane raging so furiously around. The evening was drawing on. Should darkness be down on them before they were clear of the reef, what hope of escape could they have? The eyes of the crew were now directed to their two officers aloft. Their lives seemed to depend on the result of their investigations. At length they were seen to be descending. All watched them eagerly as they reached the deck. Their countenances, it was thought, wore a more cheerful aspect than before. The wind had not lessened, nor was there the slightest indication of a change. The men, as has been said, were at their stations, and no one moved. There they would be found to the last, till the ship should strike. There, too, should all Christian men be found when the last final shaking of the world takes place; there should they be when death overtakes them—doing their duty in that station of life to which God has called them.

Still the men, as they stood, could hold communication with each other, and it soon became known that Mr Charlton had seen an opening some way ahead, through which he believed the ship would pass. To corroborate the truth of this report, he and the master were seen again ascending the rigging. The eyes of both the officers were fixed ahead, or rather over the port-bow. All were now again silent, looking at the captain, and ready to spring at a moment to obey the orders he might give; the second lieutenant and Mr Martin were forward. Mr Charlton made a signal to the captain.

"Up with the helm!—square away the yards!" he shouted.

The order was rapidly executed, and the frigate's head turned towards the dreaded reef; but between the walls of foam an opening of clear water was seen, amply wide to allow her to pass. Almost in an instant, it seemed, she was flying by the danger on an even keel, the breakers sending the spray in heavy showers over her decks. The after-sails were furled: on she flew steadily before the gale. Night came on. There might be other reefs ahead; but the captain and his officers and crew had done all that men could do, and they put their trust in God, who had already brought them safely through so many dangers, that He would protect them.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

BEN IS SHIPWRECKED.

The gale drove the Ajax considerably out of her intended course, and it was some time before she could again haul up to the eastward. It was not without a providential purpose that she was driven in that direction. Three days passed by after the gale had gone down, and just as she had sighted a small island, said to be uninhabited, the look-out at the masthead hailed the deck: "A sail on the lee-bow—five miles away!" he shouted.

Several of the officers went at once aloft, to have a look at the stranger. She was not a large vessel, that was certain; she might be one of the slavers. She must be overhauled at all events; all sail was accordingly made on the frigate. The stranger seemed not to have much wind where she lay; the frigate therefore came rapidly up with her. She was soon seen to be a schooner, and pronounced to have a Spanish look about her. The frigate brought the breeze along with her, and as soon as the schooner felt it, she too made all sail, close-hauled, with an evident intention of escaping. This left little doubt of her character. She was a fast-looking craft, but the Ajax was also noted for her speed, and few on board doubted that the schooner would be overtaken. Everybody was eager to come up with her. What a satisfaction it would be to release the poor savage islanders, and many others of whom they had heard!

The schooner made every effort to escape, and, at last, kept away, finding how fast her pursuer was on a wind, and endeavoured to run back towards the island, her crew probably expecting to be able to escape among the reefs which surrounded it. Fortunately, the island having been well surveyed, a good chart of it existed on board. Captain Bertram was able to stand close in after her without fear. The Ajax came quickly up after the schooner before the wind.

"Try her with a shot, Mr Charlton," said the captain; "but fire high, to injure no one on board."

Mr Sponge, the gunner, with alacrity fired one of the bow chasers. The shot was admirably aimed, and the schooner's maintopmast fell over her side. The frigate's crew uttered a shout of satisfaction.

The slaver, for so she was, did not wait for another, but instantly hauled down her flag. It was that of Chili. The schooner was forthwith hove up in the wind. This done, two boats were seen to leave her side. Captain Bertram, on this, hove the frigate to, and ordered two boats to be manned and to bring the fugitives back, while two others pulled on board the schooner. Ben was in one of the latter, with the interpreter. The crew gave way with a will, for they were eager to get on board. No one was to be seen on deck as they climbed up the sides, but Tatai's hail was at once answered by shouts from below. The hatches were quickly knocked off, and a number of men and women came rushing up, showing, by evident signs, their joy at being liberated. Their first impulse, however, was to fall down on their knees on the deck, and return thanks to Jehovah for having freed them from the barbarians by whom they had been captured. They knew, from having several times before seen the British flag, that they would be kindly treated. They described through Tatai, in pathetic language, the way that they had been treated after having been captured. They had been ordered not to pray aloud, or to sing, and, when off the farther end of this island, to their grief they heard the voices of several of their countrymen, who had come on board. In vain they shouted to warn them. Some at length heard them, and endeavoured to escape. Many sprang overboard into the sea in the hope of swimming on shore, when the inhuman wretches fired on them and killed several; others were knocked down, and, being recaptured, were forced below to join their poor countrymen. This treatment was more than even the patient islanders could stand. By violent efforts, with the aid of a piece of timber they found below, they forced off the hatch and rushed on deck. Some of them threw themselves into the water in the hopes of swimming on shore, though now far from it. At length, the slaver sailed away from the spot, with her cargo of victims to be offered up at the shrine of Mammon; or, in other words, to be destroyed in the silver mines of Peru. Even then, did these till lately savages curse their oppressors? No; even as they sailed away, torn from home and country, wives and children, to die in a foreign land—when they all knelt down at the usual hour to offer up prayer and praise to the God of love and mercy, who had brought them out of darkness into His marvellous light, they did not omit to pray for their cruel oppressors, that their hearts might be converted, and that they might turn to their Maker and live.

Meantime, the boats of the frigate which had gone in chase of the slaver's overtook them, and brought them on board the Ajax. Their guilt was so evident, that Captain Bertram had no doubt about the propriety of detaining them as prisoners. It was necessary, therefore, to send a prize crew to take charge of the schooner. She was called the Andorina (the Swallow). Mr Owen, the third lieutenant of the frigate, was directed to take charge of the prize, to land the natives at the islands from which they had been taken, and then to follow the frigate to Callao. Mr Manners was to go as his mate. Ben and Tom hoped that they would be among those chosen to form her crew, as boys would certainly be required. Ben wished it, because he should thus be able to make more inquiries for Ned at the places they might touch at, and he made bold to tell his wish to Mr Martin, who suggested it to Mr Charlton. The two boys were therefore delighted when their names were called out to go on board the prize. They quickly mustered with the rest of the prize crew, with their bags ready. The captain addressed them kindly before they left the frigate, urged them to maintain discipline, to obey Mr Owen and Mr Manners, and hoped that he should have a good report of them all when they rejoined the frigate. All arrangements being made, the frigate stood to the eastward with the slaver's crew on board, while the schooner made sail for Samoa, Tonga, and Savage Islands.

The new crew of the schooner had a long voyage before them, but they were in good spirits; they had an abundance of provisions, having been well supplied by the frigate, in addition to what the schooner had before, and they were engaged in a just and humane cause.

It was pleasant to observe the gentle, kind manners of the liberated natives. They were courteous and polite to each other, and they seemed evidently anxious to conform to all the rules and regulations formed for their management. One of them, who had lived some time in the house of a missionary, spoke a little English, and he was thus able to act as interpreter.

Although the crew of the slaver had taken away and thrown overboard one or two Bibles and some other small books, which had been found in the girdles of the captives, they were very far from being deprived of all spiritual comfort, for they could nearly all repeat large portions of the Scripture by heart, many of them entire chapters. They would happily pass many hours of each day repeating these to each other, singing hymns, and offering up prayers. Two or three among them, who were elders of their respective churches, also occasionally addressed and exhorted the rest; indeed, it was a pity that their language was not understood by the white men, who might undoubtedly have learned many an important truth from them. Mr Manners, who was, as has been said, a very sincere Christian, took great interest in their proceedings, and got the young native who spoke English, and who was called Marco, to explain what was said. Ben frequently stood by and listened, and then began to pick up a knowledge of the language.

Thus several days passed by very pleasantly on board the schooner. It has been remarked that this world is a very good and beautiful world, but it is the people who live in it that are bad. In this case the schooner was a very ordinary vessel, and had till lately been filled with very bad people, and a great deal of misery and suffering had existed on board her. Now she was manned with God-fearing and religious people, and so her whole character was changed, and prayers and songs of praise ascended daily from her decks.

The weather, however, was far from satisfactory. The stormy season had set in, and rains and gales of wind might be expected. Mr Owen proved himself a good and careful officer, and, assisted by Mr Manners, was constantly on the watch for the dangers which might befall them. The wind had hitherto been light and contrary, and the schooner had made but little progress. The weather now again became threatening, and caused considerably anxiety to the young officers. It was evident from the look of the sky, and the sudden way in which the sea got up, that another gale was coming on; not so violent, perhaps, as the former, but still requiring every possible preparation to be made for it. The boats and spars, and everything on deck, were doubly secured; the hatches and skylights were fastened down; the topmasts were struck; the lighter sails furled, and storm sails set; and in a short time the schooner was in a state to encounter the expected gale. It came on more gradually than the former one: at first in heavy squalls, and then more and more violently. The sea got up at the same time, and the vessel heeled over to the furious blast Mr Owen and Mr Manners consulted together what course to steer: the schooner could just lie her proper course, and on that course there were no dangers which could not be seen in time, and avoided, as far as they knew. On the other hand, should the gale increase still more, as there was every prospect of its doing, it would be necessary to put her before the wind, as it would be dangerous, if not indeed impossible, to keep her close-hauled as she then was. Should she run for any distance before the gale, she would be carried into a part of the ocean studded thickly with islets. Once among the archipelago, it might be impossible to avoid being dashed on the rock-bound shore of one of them. Here, then, was sufficient cause for anxiety to the young officers. As long as possible, the schooner was kept on a wind, plunging through the seas. Their only other resource was to heave-to; but there was danger in that where neither spars nor rigging could be trusted. The seas came breaking over her bows, and sweeping her decks. Another huge billow, larger and more foam-covered than any of its predecessors, was seen ahead. "Up with the helm, lower the peak, ease away the main-sheet, square away the maintopsail!" cried Mr Owen, with rapid utterance. The crew quickly obeyed his orders. The effect of these orders was to take the pressure off the after-part of the vessel, and round her head flew from the wind and the coming sea. It struck her, however, and from the way it swept along her side, tearing away part of her bulwarks, and doing other damage as it came on board, it was evident that it would have caused far greater disaster had her bow encountered its full force. On she now flew before the hurricane, for such it was rather than a common gale. There was no choice now as to heaving-to. The officers scanned the chart with anxious eyes. They saw, with regret they could scarcely conceal, that, unless the gale should cease, no skill of theirs could save the schooner from destruction, or unless, guided by an unseen Power, she should thread her way amid the labyrinth of islets and reefs ahead of her. Night was coming on. There was no moon. The dark clouds shut out all light from the stars.

On flew the schooner. The unfortunate islanders were invited to come on deck, that, should the vessel strike suddenly, they might have some chance of escaping by swimming on shore. The danger was explained to them through Marco. "We are in the hands of Jehovah," was the answer. "He will do with us what He sees best."

Through the pitchy darkness the vessel rushed on. More than once the quick ears of the seamen detected, they thought, the well-known sound of breakers; but each time the sound died away to leeward: the vessel must have passed at a distance from them. Hour after hour thus passed by. How all on board longed for daylight! Yet daylight would only enable them to see the threatening danger, scarcely to avoid it.

Once more the sound of breakers was heard. This time it was ahead. In vain, with straining eyeballs, the seamen looked into the darkness to discover, if they could, whether the breakers were on the starboard or port bow. All held their breath. The stoutest hearts might then have quailed. The foretopsail was alone set; to have lowered that would have caused the vessel to be pooped, and so more speedily to have sealed her fate. On she flew to destruction. The dreaded crash came. She quivered from stem to stern. Both the masts went by the board, carrying several of the seamen with them, as well as the young commander. Another sea came hissing on astern, threatening to dash the vessel to pieces; but no! it lifted her up, and bore her on its summit far along over the reef.

Mr Manners found himself at that awful moment in command of the schooner. He ordered the well to be sounded. It was not necessary; for the water, it was soon evident, was rushing in through numerous large rents made by the sharp coral. Still the vessel drove on, now among rocks, now in clear water. She was, however, rapidly filling. "Out boats!" was the cry. Fortunately these had escaped injury. Again, however, the schooner was exposed to the fury of the sea, which came sweeping round through a passage in the reef.

At that moment a sudden panic seized the crew. Ben felt himself grasped by the arm, and dragged into one of the boats which had just been lowered. Five men only were in her. Either intentionally or by accident, the painter was let go, and the boat drifted rapidly away from the sinking vessel. The men searched for the oars, which they supposed to be in the boat; only one was to be found. To return to the schooner was therefore impossible. Their only prospect of safety was to get the boat before the wind with the oar. This was done, and farther and farther away she drifted from the vessel.

The men said but little. They regretted being driven away from the schooner without receiving more on board; and Ben heard, with sorrow, that there was but little chance of any of their shipmates being saved. Their own prospects also were gloomy enough. They had no water, no provisions, on board, and one oar alone to guide the boat. One of the most dreadful fates which seamen have sometimes to endure seemed in store for them—to be out on the wide ocean, exposed to the heat of the sun by day and chills by night, without a drop of water to cool their burning thirst. The poor fellows knew too well that this might be their lot; but still they were thankful that they had hitherto escaped the destruction which had overtaken so many of their shipmates.

Two or three of the men at a time were employed in baling out the boat, while one steered as well as he could before the seas. Again the sound of breakers was heard: it was right ahead. "It is all up with us!" cried one of the men. "God be merciful to us!" cried another. Scarcely had they spoken, when the boat was lifted on the foaming summit of a sea, the crest of which nearly filled her with water, and down she came with a crash on the rocks, which dashed her to pieces. Ben clung to one of the fragments. The despairing shrieks of his shipmates sounded in his ears, and he felt himself borne onward into smoother water. He clung tightly to the shattered plank, and thought that he saw trees rising before him. It was not fancy. The dawn had broken, and he was drifting along the shore. He could swim well, and felt sure that he could reach it. A few vigorous strokes, and his feet touched the firm sand. He waded up, and sank exhausted on the dry ground.

The sun was shining brightly on his head before the shipwrecked lad awoke. He sat up, and, as he recovered his senses, he looked round, hoping to see his companions; but no one was visible. He rose to his feet, and shouted out their names. No reply came to him. He ran along the beach, calling to them; and then discovered that he was on a small island. His voice could, he fancied, have reached from one end to the other. With a sad heart, he found that he was alone—the only human being, as far as he knew, saved from the wreck.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

ON A DESERT ISLAND.

Poor Ben was very melancholy at the feeling that he was alone on that desert island; still, he was thankful that his own life had been preserved. "God surely would not have taken me out of the sea to let me die here by inches of hunger and thirst," he said to himself. "I will trust in God, as I have always done." As he said this, he put his hand in the bosom of his shirt. There was safe the little Testament which his mother had given him, and which he had been reading before the gale sprang up. He spread it out open on the sand, that the leaves might dry. "He has spared me this; He has other good things in store for me," he whispered to himself. He also spread out his clothes, which very quickly dried.

Ben had lost his cap, so, while his Testament and clothes were drying, he sat down and began making another out of some broad leaves which grew close at hand. While thus employed, and thinking over what he should do, he recollected that he had not prayed, nor thanked God for preserving him; so, having put on his clothes, he knelt down in the thin shadow of a tall palm, and prayed as he had never prayed before. After doing this, he felt greatly supported; yet his condition was indeed a forlorn one. He rose from his knees, and looked around. He felt thirsty, but not very hungry—sufficiently so, however, to remind him that he must look out for food. He was not aware of the difficulties of procuring it, so that his mind was not troubled on that score. His first idea was to survey the island, so as to learn to a certainty whether any of his shipmates might have been cast on it. He found a piece of timber on the sand, which served him for a walking-stick, and, supported by it, he set off to walk round the island.

He first climbed up to the top of a rock near him, from which, between the trees, he could look across the island, and he thought that it could be little more than half a mile wide. How long it was he could not so well judge. He walked on and on, looking about for signs of fresh-water, for he knew that he must not drink that of the sea. He could find none. He became more and more thirsty; his tongue was parched, and his throat dry: still he would not give up. He dragged his weary feet along, helped by his stick. Some rocky mounds, scarcely to be called hills, appeared in the distance, and he hoped that water might be found near them. This gave him fresh strength to drag himself along. The mounds were not so high even as he had fancied, and were much nearer. Again he was disappointed. He paced round and round them; all was stony and dry.

Ben was very nearly giving way to despair, when he espied, scarcely fifty yards off, a group of tall trees with large round fruit hanging from them. At once he knew them to be cocoa-nuts, and he went on, eager to quench his thirst with the pure milk they contained. Yet, weak as he was, how could he climb up to the top of those trees? He had often seen the natives do it with a band round their waists. If he were strong, he might do it in the same way, could he but find the band; but, in his weak state, that was impossible. Again he was doomed to disappointment, he feared, and was about to pursue his exploring tour, when he saw, not far off, a nut on the ground. He ran eagerly and picked it up. It had been blown off during the recent gale. After stripping off the husk, he soon broke in the end; and, though he spilt a little, there was sufficient milk in it to quench his now burning thirst. He then more slowly ate pieces of the fruit, which he cut out with his knife. Here was one means of supporting life, and Ben's elastic spirits again rose. At his age the thoughts of the future did not press heavily on him. He had, too, 'a conscience void of offence towards God': not that he did not feel and know himself to be a sinner; but he felt himself to be a pardoned one, as a sincere believer in Christ. That was the secret of his light-heartedness. Still he had a longing for pure water. He knew, too, that he could the better cook any fish he might obtain if he could find it. How was he to light a fire, however? Just before the gale came on, the cook had sent him below to get his tin-box of matches, and after the cook had taken one out, Ben had put it into his pocket. There it was, and, the lid fitting tightly down, the matches were uninjured. "I must cherish them carefully, however," he thought; "when they are gone, I shall be unable to light a fire." He looked about and found several other cocoa-nuts, which he collected, and piled up where he could again find them.

Much refreshed, Ben continued his walk. At last he saw the end of the island. For a quarter of a mile or more it was low and barren, hard rock washed apparently by the sea; so he turned round and went back by the other shore. The island was, altogether, nearly two miles long; but there were not many cocoa-nut trees on it,—nor much soil indeed, which was the reason probably that it was not inhabited. He might now exclaim, though sadly, "I am monarch of all I survey;" but he would rather have been the meanest subject of a small kingdom, with civilised companions, than a king and all alone on that nearly barren reef. Still he had no fear of starving; shell-fish he saw on the rocks in abundance. During the calm, too, some of the natives had been fishing over the side of the vessel, and he also had got some hooks and a long line. These he had put into his pockets. He might, he hoped, find some roots, and thus be able to vary his diet. As the sun rose, the horizon became very clear, and he thought that he could distinguish land in one direction; it was at all events a long way off, and it was so faint that it might be only a cloud just rising above the horizon. He should be able to judge better after watching it for a day or two.

As Ben walked on, his eye was continually roving about for signs of water. How gladly would he have welcomed the sight of even a little mossy pool, or some moisture in the crevice of a rock! He did not despair. He had hitherto only explored the shore; water might rise in the interior, and be lost in the sand before it reached the beach. "One thing I ought to have before night," he said,—for he had got into the way of talking aloud,—"that is, shelter. I must build myself a hut;" and so he set to work. There were canes, and bushes, and broad leaves of the pandanus and other trees in abundance. He did not require a very spacious mansion; still he wanted one high enough to sit in. He worked on till he was tired and hungry. He had left his cocoa-nuts some way off, and had to go for them. He brought as many as he could carry back to his hut. Knocking a hole in the end of one of them, and carefully scraping out the fruit after he had drunk the milk, he waded into the water, and cut some mussels off the rocks. His cocoa-nut he filled with salt-water. Coming back, he lighted a fire in a hole a little way from his hut. Would he put his cocoa-nut on it? No; he was too wise for that; but he made some stones red-hot, and kept tumbling them into the water till the mussels were sufficiently cooked. Others he toasted before the fire, but he liked the boiled ones best. He thus made a tolerably substantial meal. To keep in his fire, he built up a wall of stones round it, and put on a quantity of green sticks, which would burn slowly, hoping in that way to save the expenditure of another match.

"I will finish my hut, and then I will go and have another hunt for water," he said to himself, as he began working again. He had placed his hut against a tree, with the opening turned away from the wind. There were plenty of dry leaves about, which he collected for his bed. He did not require furniture; that he would make by and by. While hunting in his pockets for the matches, he found a number of thin flat seeds. He recollected having saved them from a fruit of the gourd species, which had been used on board the schooner. He carefully dried them and put them by, remembering that such things grow very rapidly. "There will be no harm sowing them; if I do not use them, others will. I am thankful I found them," he thought. Once more he set out to look for water. The exertion he had gone through, and the heat, made the milk of the cocoa-nut insufficient for quenching his thirst. The ground was rough; but he eagerly clambered over it, backwards and forwards, hoping thus to find a spring if one existed. The sun was sinking low, when he thought that the trees and shrubs, in a hollow he saw some way before him, looked greener and more luxuriant than those in other places. "Water makes leaves and grass green," he said to himself; "I hope so, for I don't think that I could live many more hours without water, not through another day in this hot sun. Oh dear! oh dear! how very, very thirsty I am! What would I give if there should be water there, even though I should only get one good drink of it! Ay, but I shall want it another day—for many days, or months, perhaps, as long as I live on this island. I don't think that God will have put only a little there. If there is any, there will be a good supply for me, more than this cocoa-nut full, I am certain." He had brought a cocoa-nut shell with him to fill with water, that he might take some back to his hut.

Ben almost shouted for joy when he found a spring of pure water bubbling up from under a big rock. It ran a little way between rocks, and then lost itself in a sandy bed. He scooped a hole in the ground, into which he put his cocoa-nut shell, which quickly filled with water. How sweet and pure it tasted! He felt that he could never take enough. At last, however, his thirst was quenched, so he filled his cocoa-nut shell, and directed his steps to the sea-shore; but he had not gone far before he was tempted to put the shell to his lips. He soon drained it, and then he went back for more. His great fear was that he should not again find the spring. He marked the spot with the greatest care, and noted each tree and mound as he took his way towards the beach. Night was coming on, as it does in those latitudes, very rapidly; and Ben had to hurry on for fear of not finding his hut, and at the same time to be very cautious not to spill the water out of his cocoa-nut. Oh that people would be as eager for the Water of Life, as little Ben was for the spring in that desert island, and would be tempted to return to it again and again to drink afresh of its pure source! Ben was thankful when he saw the glow from his fire, which continued smouldering gently. Without it he might have passed his hut. He could not manage by its light to read more than a few verses from his Testament; but even those few gave him comfort and hope. With a heart truly grateful for the mercies bestowed on him, he knelt down and offered up his simple prayer to God. The last thing he did was to make up his fire afresh, and then he crept into his hut and in a few moments was fast asleep.

The sun had risen before Ben awoke. He felt that he had a great deal to do. He could not tell how long he might have to remain on the island. It might be not only for months, but for years. Much depended on his own sense and energy whether he would retain his health, or indeed life itself. He began the day with prayer and reading the Testament. He knew that that was the best way at all events to save himself from turning into a savage. He then made his breakfast off cocoa-nut and shell-fish. "I must catch some fish, however," he said to himself, as he finished the last clam; "this food will not do to live on always. I may find some roots and berries, and perhaps turtles' eggs. I heard some wild-fowl cry last evening; I may find their eggs too, and trap them or some other birds, or get a turtle itself. The first thing I'll now do is to carry my hut nearer to the water, instead of having to bring the water all this way to the hut. That won't take long. I can carry the whole of it in two journeys, and quickly put it up. I must take the fire after it. That will keep in for many hours, I see, with the help of this rotten wood. If I go working on in these clothes, I shall soon wear them out. I must see what I can do to make others out of the bark of the paper-mulberry, as the natives do; I thought I saw some of those trees yesterday. I daresay I shall not succeed at first, but there is nothing like trying. There is a piece of open ground near the spring which will just do for the gourd-seeds. I'll sow them therein forthwith. The fruit is very wholesome, I know; and the dried gourds will furnish me with basins and pots and pans in abundance."

Ben put all his plans into execution in a methodical, regular way. He became, indeed, perfectly happy, and almost contented with his lot, except when he thought of his mother and Ned—poor Ned, still undiscovered, living among savages, or on a desert island, like himself. His own fate made him hope more than ever that Ned had escaped.

Now and then the course of his plans was interrupted by something else which occurred to him to do. One idea was to erect a beacon at each end of the island, to attract the attention of those on board any passing vessel. He had nothing of which to make a flag, so a flagstaff would have been of no use. It then struck him that a cross would be more remarkable than anything else, and he devoted a part of each day to the work. It was a very heavy task. He chose a tree towards the end of the island, where he proposed erecting the first cross. He had only a stout pocket-knife, but he could employ fire, and that only required constant watching. A large sharp stone helped him. When he had thus felled the tree, he had to cut off the branches, and to drag it to the end of the island. With great labour he partly burned, and partly cut, a deep notch, into which he fixed the cross-beam, securing it with wedges. He had observed a cleft in the rock: in this he placed the butt-end, and gradually raised it with far more ease than he could otherwise have done. Some large stones placed round it kept it secure. The other cross was erected much in the same manner.

His fishing was very successful, and he was soon able to catch an ample supply for his daily food. He found, too, some roots which were perfectly wholesome. When cultivated by the natives, they formed one of their chief articles of food. He was not disappointed in finding, after a time, some turtles' and sea-fowls' eggs; indeed, he had an abundance of nutritious food, gained, however, by his own exertions and perseverance. It might have been possible for a person to have died of starvation on the island, simply on account of not looking for the means of subsistence which it afforded. Ben not only collected for present use, but preserved what he could for the future, knowing that at certain seasons the turtle and wild-fowl would cease to lay eggs, that the fish might leave the coast, or that stormy weather might prevent his catching them; that the cocoa-nuts would dry up, as might the roots, and that the wild-fowl might become more wary. He was thus never idle, from morning till night; and though, of course, he thought very often of home and Ned, and of how he should get away, yet he never was unhappy or out of spirits. He was as fond as ever of saying, "Do right, whatever comes of it, and trust in God."



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

ESCAPE: AND THE END OF BEN'S HISTORY.

Ben had recollected the day of the week on which, he was cast on the island. By means of a stick which he notched regularly, a plan he had often heard of being adopted under similar circumstances, he kept an exact note of the days as they passed. Sunday he made a day of rest. It was not, however, a day of weariness. He read much more than usual of his Testament, and, recollecting the way the natives had repeated portions of it, he set to work to commit some of its chapters to memory.

This he found a delightful occupation. When doing so, he spent many hours walking up and down on the smooth sea sand, with shoeless feet, looking out every now and then on the blue ocean, and thinking what a beautiful world it is we inhabit, and how grievous that man should mar it by his evil temper and wicked deeds. Then he would occasionally sing all the hymns he knew at the top of his voice, from very joyfulness of heart. In the week-days, when at work, he would repeat over what he had learned on the Sundays. Thus five months, by his calculation, passed away.

One Monday forenoon, as he was going out to the end of a reef to fish, on looking in the direction where he had frequently seen what he supposed to be land, he saw an object moving over the water. It was not white, like the sail of a vessel. It must, then, be the mat-sail of a large double canoe. Thinking no more of his fishing, he ran up to the highest rocky hill in the neighbourhood to watch its progress. It was drawing nearer the island, and yet apparently not steering directly for it, rather, as it were, to pass at some distance.

"I wonder what sort of people are on board," he thought. "Perhaps savages—cannibals. Then it will be much better if they do not come here. If they are Christian natives, then I shall be very glad to go with them, as they of course are on their way to some civilised island where ships are likely to call."

The wind was light, the canoe moved slowly, and Ben's anxiety increased. At last it seemed clear that the canoe would not come nearer to the island. He heaved a deep sigh, and sat silent and sad for some time. Then he recollected that he was going to fish. He got up, and again worked his way towards the end of the reef. He cast in his line, and had hooked a fish, when, just as he landed it, on looking up for an instant, he saw the canoe gliding towards the island. It was steering for the point on which stood the cross, there could be no doubt about that. He watched it eagerly, anxious to ascertain who was on board. If they were savages, should he hide himself, and trust to their going away again? "Yet even if they are savages, they will not hurt me," he said to himself. "They will see at once that I cannot do them any harm. I will run and meet them, and welcome them. That will be the best way, I am sure. I will take a branch in my hand, and wave it as the natives do, to show that I wish to be friendly with them."

Saying this, Ben drew up the fish he had hooked,—a fine large one,— retreated along the reef over the rocks, cut a branch, and ran along the beach as fast as his legs could carry him towards Cross Point. He got there before the canoe, for the wind was light. He could see a number of people on it as it drew nearer. Were they savages? They were all clothed. Yes, and some of them were dressed as English sailors. There was a glitter of gold-lace on the coat of one of them. In the bow stood a young sailor lad. Gradually the faces began to grow distinct. How his heart leaped with joy! There were Tom Martin and Mr Manners, and several of the prize crew he had long thought in their ocean graves, and there were also a good number of the natives, busy in lowering the huge mat-sail of the canoe. They were the very men who had been on board the schooner.

Ben was at first almost beside himself with delight. He waved his hands and shouted wildly; then he ran down and showed them the best place for bringing the canoe to shore. The natives cried out to him, but neither Tom Martin nor any of the English seamen seemed to know him. "I wonder what that little savage wants," he heard Tom say to one of the men. "He looks to me as if he was out of his senses."

"No, I am not, Tom Martin, I can assure you," cried Ben, running up to him and putting out his hand; "only very, very glad to see you again, and to find that you are all alive."

"Well, indeed, I am also glad to find you were not drowned, Ben," answered Tom, wringing his shipmate's hand till it seemed as if he would wring it off. "I felt certain that you were drowned, and was very sorry for you, that I was!"

"He speaks truth, Ben," observed Jem Stokes, a seaman who had always stood Tom's friend. "The lad took so ill when he thought that you were lost, that we thought he would have slipped his cable altogether; but Mr Manners spoke to him, as he did to all of us, and told him that if you had left this world you had gone to a better."

Jem's remarks were cut short by Mr Manners, who had now come on shore. Ben was not aware, till he observed the surprised look with which his officer regarded him, of the odd figure he cut. He then recollected that he wore a suit of his own home-made clothes: a hat of leaves, in shape between an extinguisher and an umbrella; a cape of mulberry-tree cloth, and a kilt of the same, reaching down to his knees. With shoes he had learned to dispense, that he might have a good pair to go away in. He had worn them, however, on Sunday mornings, when he had put them on, with the rest of his best suit. Ben explained to Mr Manners why he was dressed in that curious fashion, and the young officer highly approved of his reasons, and complimented him on his ingenuity in their manufacture.

The whole party then collected round him while he gave a brief account of the way he had been preserved, and how he had managed to subsist during his sojourn on the island. He, in return, was informed how his friends had escaped. The schooner, from having no cargo in her, did not sink as soon as was expected, but drove on to another reef, where she stuck fast. The gale falling soon after, those on board had time to construct a raft, on which, with the aid of one of the boats, they reached an island which they had seen five or six miles off. They were able to save a small quantity of provisions; but the larger portion, being under water, could not be got at. The island was of considerable size, and, thanks to the knowledge possessed by the natives, they had not experienced much difficulty in procuring food. The schooner soon broke up, so that very little more was got out of her, and only a few articles of value were washed ashore. Mr Manners at once proposed building a vessel; but the carpenter's mate, who had come in the schooner as carpenter, had been lost when the vessel went on the rocks, and none of the other men knew anything of ship-building. The natives, on hearing the wish of the English officer, offered to construct a large double canoe, three or four professional canoe-builders being among them. They were far more ingenious than the civilised Englishmen. Their tools they made out of stones, and flints, and shells; the fibre of trees served them instead of nails; their sails were made out of dried grass. It was a work, however, of great labour; night and day they toiled at it. At length, aided by the Englishmen, it was completed. They had preserved and stored all the food they could collect and spare for their voyage; but their great difficulty was to carry enough water. The water on the island was bad, and they had not sufficient receptacles for it. Still, they hoped to reach some island where they might replenish their stock; but that was very uncertain.

"Indeed, the possibility—or, I may say, the probability—of our running short of water is the greatest cause of anxiety I have for our dangerous voyage. If that was over, I should have fewer cares on my mind," observed Mr Manners.

"Then, sir, I think that I can certainly relieve you of that care," answered Ben. "There is a spring of excellent water in the middle of the island, and near it I planted, on the second day of my arrival, some gourd-seeds. The plants grew up very fast, and the fruit has now become of great size, and is perfectly ripe. Each of them would, I should think, when dried, hold a large quantity of water; and I am sure that the pulp is very good and wholesome, for I have felt much better since I lived on it. Besides, I have already dried a number of the outsides, so that we may judge how they hold water."

"That is indeed providential, Ben," observed Mr Manners. "God, I believe, never allows anything to be done without an object; and it seems very clear that you were thrown on this island, not only that your own life might be saved, but that you might be the means of preserving all our lives. Had it not been for you, we should not have known that there exists water on the island; and we certainly should not have had the means of carrying it away. Let us at once examine the gourds, that we may see what can be done."

Mr Manners now called Marco, and begged him to set off at once with Ben, and examine the gourds, with a few of the other natives, while the rest dispersed on the island to collect roots, cocoa-nuts, and, indeed, any other food that they could find.

Ben could not help feeling proud at the commendation which Mr Manners bestowed on his hut and its internal arrangements; still more so on his plantation of gourds. The little seeds which he had brought to shore in his jacket-pocket had now become large plants, producing gourds twice the size of a man's head. As he had wisely planted them at a distance from each other, they had all grown to their full size. Marco selected thirty, at least, each of which would hold several quarts of water; while their pulp was a welcome addition to the food of those who had been for so long living on the produce of the sea, and roots, and cocoa-nuts.

Three days were spent in drying the gourds and in filling them, and in replenishing the other receptacles on board the canoe with the pure water from Ben's fountain. One or two defects in the canoe were also made good, and a considerable addition to their supply of provisions was taken on board.

Ben took a last look at the hut he had so long inhabited, and the garden he had cultivated with so much care, with a feeling almost of regret, knowing that he was to part from them for ever. Before leaving them, however, he planted a number of ripe seeds, and repaired his hut, in case any other person might be cast on shore on the island. The crosses were also repaired.

"We had not intended landing on the island till we saw them," observed Mr Manners. "When our eyes caught sight of them, we knew that some Christian person must be, or must have been, on the island; and, though eager to proceed on our voyage, we at once resolved to touch at the place. I pray that, before long, the time may come for the cross to be erected on every island throughout the wide Pacific, not as the symbol of nominal Christianity, of a religion of forms and ceremonies, but as the sign of a true and living faith, of a spiritual worship acceptable to God."

The last remarks, though spoken aloud, were made by Mr Manners rather to himself than to those near him.

All preparations having been made, the whole party, with Ben Hadden, embarked on board the canoe. She was paddled out into the open sea, the wind was fair, the sail was hoisted, and Ben soon saw his island home sink beneath the horizon.

The difficulties in the navigation of the voyage just commenced were very great. Mr Manners had saved only a boat's compass; he had no quadrant and no chart. He calculated that they were about sixteen hundred miles at least from Samoa, for which group he shaped his course. They expected to meet with several islands on the way, but though the inhabitants of some of them had been converted to Christianity, those of others were still sunk in heathen darkness and barbarism. It would be necessary for them, therefore, to be very careful on which they landed. In the one case, they would be sure of a friendly reception; in the other they would be attacked, and probably murdered, if not on their guard. Ben hoped that at all events they might touch at several islands, that he might have more opportunities of making inquiries about Ned. He found that strict discipline was maintained on board the canoe. All on board were divided into watches, taking regularly their turns of duty. Morning and evening there were prayers, led by Mr Manners in English and by Marco in his own language. The day was begun by all joining in a hymn, then the Scriptures were read and commented on by the respective readers. Ben was very glad to find that Tom took a great interest in their services, and spoke on religious subjects in a tone that he had never before done.

"Why, you see, Ben," said Tom, "on that awful night of the wreck I thought that we were all going to be drowned, and when, after all, we got on shore, I felt how merciful and kind God had been to save such a wicked fellow as I was, instead of you, who was so much more fit to go to Him. I was still very sorry for you, for your mother's sake, and I knew father would be very sorry when he heard of it. I do not suppose that those thoughts would have lasted very long; I am afraid not: but then, Mr Manners spoke to me so kindly, that I felt what an ungrateful wretch I should be if I didn't give my heart to so good and merciful a God; and from that day to this I have been trying to do so. It is not very easy, even among the few of our poor fellows remaining; but Mr Manners says that I must pray for grace, and not trust to my own strength, and that then, if I am sincere and not a hypocrite to myself, that I should have every confidence of being supported and protected. It is that thought, Ben, which gives me so much comfort. Otherwise I should be very unhappy, and not at all sure that I should not be a castaway after all."

"That is just the same thought that has made me always happy," remarked Ben. "I know that God never casts out any who go to Him through Christ, and trust to Him completely, and not to themselves, while they try to love and serve Him as much as they can, though that is very little after all I can't tell you, though, Tom, how glad I am to hear you speak so, and I am sure that your father will be still more glad, if we ever find the ship again, which I hope we may do."

"That's the very thing I am afraid of," said Tom. "I shall be very glad indeed to see my father again; but when I get back among the other boys, and into old ways again, I shall be apt to do just as before, and to talk nonsense and play all my old tricks. I say, Ben, if we ever do get back, you must help me! Won't you, there's a good fellow?"

Of course Ben promised Tom that he would help him as much as he could, though he reminded him also that he must depend on himself in one sense, though not on his own strength, for that effectual strength he could alone obtain through the aid of the Holy Spirit.

The wind was light, and the sea calm, and the canoe glided smoothly over the water. She was of a curious construction, being in reality two canoes connected by a very strong platform. The mast was a triangle, which supported a mat-sail spread on a long yard. The vessel had not to go about; but, as the stem and stern were alike, she sailed equally well both ways. At each end there were long oars, which served as rudders; but in calms she was impelled by paddles, and could thus also be moved at a considerable rate. Nobody on board was idle. In calm weather every one was employed in paddling or steering. Mr Manners took his turn with the rest. If there was a sea,—that is to say, if it was rough,—Ben and Tom, with the assistance of two or three others, had enough to do to bale out the water. A constant look-out was also necessary, to avoid any reefs or low islands in their course. Ben was very happy. He had been so long without talking, that it was a satisfaction to him once more to use his tongue, though still greater to hear other people talk, especially Mr Manners and Tom, when they spoke on subjects in which he was interested. As for his own tongue, when once set going, he found no little difficulty in again stopping it.

The weather continued so calm, that it was impossible to say to what extent the voyage might be prolonged: it was necessary, therefore, to use the greatest economy in the consumption of water and their scanty supply of provisions. A small allowance of food and water was served out to each person three times a day; but no one grumbled, for all saw the necessity of the arrangement.

Six days had passed by since the canoe had left Ben Hadden's island, as Mr Manners called it, when land was sighted ahead, or rather, the trees which grew on it, for their tops were first seen. It was an island extending for three or four miles across the horizon. No one on board knew anything about the island, but they hoped that they might there obtain a fresh supply of water and provisions, and, should it be inhabited by Christians, that they might gain some information as to their direct course for Samoa. Accordingly they steered for an opening which appeared in the barrier-reef. On getting through it, other rocks were seen ahead, and Mr Manners was afraid, should he stand on, of injuring the canoe. The sail was lowered, and they were about to paddle off again in order to search for a safe landing-place, when a man was seen on the shore beckoning them. First he pointed to the right hand, by which they knew that they were to sail in that direction; then he beckoned directly to himself, afterwards to the left, and so on. By following his directions, they reached the beach in safety. He was a wild-looking person dressed in a leaf hat, something like the one Ben had made for himself, with a seaman's tattered jacket, and a kilt of native cloth. His feet and legs were bare, his hair was long, and hung down over his shoulders, while in his hand he carried a heavy club, which he grasped tightly, as if he considered it likely to prove a friend in need. Notwithstanding his wild appearance, it was easy to perceive by the colour of his skin, sunburnt as it was, that he was not a native. He seemed very much surprised at seeing white men on board the canoe, for he did not appear to have discovered that till they were on the point of landing. He did not, however, address them, but spoke to the natives in a language which they understood. Marco inquired of him whether there were other inhabitants on the island, and whether they were Christians. He said that there were a great many; that they were not Lota, that is Christians, but that they were a very good sort of people. They had sent him on to the end of the reef to pilot in the canoe, he said, and they themselves would soon come to welcome the strangers. He had scarcely spoken before a large number of wild, nearly naked savages came out from among the trees. They were armed with spears and clubs, had long matted hair like a black thatch over their heads, and were altogether a very forbidding, unattractive set of beings. Still, from what they said to Marco and the other natives, and by their actions, they appeared to be friendlily disposed towards their visitors. It was near evening, and they signified that, if the visitors would remain overnight, they would the next day bring all the provisions required, and plenty of calabashes of pure water, which they stated was to be obtained in the middle of the island. Mr Manners thanked them, and said that he would remain till the next day. The natives then invited them to come and sleep on shore; but this Mr Manners declined, as he preferred sleeping on board the canoe. To allow more room on board, he said that he would not object to some of his people building huts of boughs for themselves on the beach, but urged them on no account to go to a distance from it. The natives, however, to show their good intentions, brought down to the beach a supply of taro and other roots and fruits, likewise as much fresh-water as their visitors would require. They seemed, as Mr Manners thought, rather disappointed that no one would accompany them away from the shore. They stood by while the provisions were being cooked, rather astonished at the proceeding; still greater was their surprise when the natives sung a hymn and offered up a prayer before they began to eat. What it could all mean of course they could not tell, but they probably had an idea that it was some sort of incantation, for they were seen to draw back for some distance, and not till the hymn was finished did they return, when they stood looking on as before.

Ben and Tom, with two of the English seamen, were allowed to go on shore that they might draw the white man, if possible, into conversation, if he could speak English. He had hitherto kept aloof from the strangers, and even stood behind his native companions while the hymn was being sung. When the natives had finished singing, Ben stood up and said the short grace which his father had been accustomed to repeat before meals. The white man, who at that time was standing a little way apart from his companions while Ben was speaking, drew nearer to him, and seemed to be listening attentively.

"I say, old fellow, come and have something to eat," said one of the seamen, holding out a bit of taro at the end of his knife.

The white man looked wistfully towards the strangers; then he cast a glance at the scowling, savage-looking natives who were watching him, and, shaking his head, again drew farther back from them. There he sat without speaking, and each time either Ben or Tom, or the other two seamen, addressed him, he shook his head, as if either he did not understand, or, at all events, did not wish to hold any communication with them.

While the party who purposed sleeping on the shore were putting up their huts, and collecting leaves for their beds, the natives and the white man, as before, stood watching them, but made no offer of assistance. The Christian visitors again sang a hymn, as the sun set and darkness came on. Then commending themselves to the protection of Heaven, they crept into their huts, and lay down to sleep. Ben and his shipmates, finding that the natives and their white associate had gone away, soon after followed their example; one of the seamen promising to sleep with one eye open, so as to be on the watch, though it was the opinion of all that the natives were a quiet sort of people, who would do them no harm. There was no moon; but the sky was clear, and the bright stars which glittered forth from it in countless numbers, in that pure atmosphere, afforded sufficient light to enable objects to be visible at a little distance.

Ben had slept for some time, he fancied, when he was awakened by feeling a hand placed on his arm.

"Hist, youngster! don't lie sleeping there," whispered a voice in his ear. "Rouse up the other Englishmen. Get on board the canoe, and be off, or you'll all be murdered. Never mind the natives with you. If you wake them up, there'll be a noise, and the people of the place will be down on them. Don't speak above a whisper, whatever you do. The people are not far off, and I found it a hard job to steal away."

Ben at once comprehended that some danger was threatened. He sat up, and saw the stranger white man standing over him.

"Leave our Christian friends! No, we will never do that," he answered. "I will go and arouse them, while you can awake my shipmates; and, whoever you are, you must come with us."

"Well, well, I'll do as you wish," answered the white man; "only be sharp, and tell the people to creep along over the ground, so as not to be seen at a distance. We must climb into the canoe, and shove off without any noise, or they will be down on us before we can get clear of the reefs."

Without wasting more time on words, Ben crept off to where Marco was sleeping; he had fortunately noted the place. Awaking him, he told him of the warning he had received, and Marco quickly aroused the rest of his party.

It was with difficulty that the seamen could be prevented from speaking when called; in a couple of minutes, however, the whole party were creeping down towards the canoe, which lay afloat alongside some rocks running into the water. They were all quickly on board, followed by the young Englishman—for such it was supposed the white man was, by his language.

"Shove off, sir!" he whispered to Mr Manners, who had only then been aroused. "No time to lose. I will go to the helm."

The advice was instantly followed; the warps were cast off, the paddles got out, and the canoe began slowly to glide out from among the rocks. Scarcely, however, had she begun to move than loud shouts were heard, and large numbers of the savage natives were seen rushing down from among the trees to the beach. When they found that the canoe had moved from the rocks, they yelled and shouted more fiercely than ever.

"Give way, lads! give way!" cried the stranger; "there is a narrow place where they may catch us if we are not smart."

Neither the English seamen nor the natives required any urging, but paddled away as hard as they could. They saw the savages indeed, their figures standing out against the sky, as they hurried along over the rocks, shouting, and leaping, and brandishing their spears. Before the canoe had got far, a shower of spears and darts fell among the party on board; but, thrown from a distance, not much injury was done, and they were only stimulated to increased exertion. Alone, they could not, in the dark, have found their way out through the passage in the reefs; the young man, however, seemed confident that he knew the right course to steer. Not a word was spoken; each man paddled as hard as he could. Gradually the rocks were left behind, and the last passage between the reefs was seen; beyond was the open sea. The shouts and shrieks of the savages became fainter and fainter. They either had not had time to launch their canoes, or were afraid to attack the large double canoe in them. In a short time Mr Manners and his companions were in safety.

Once more a course was steered for Samoa. All were thankful for their narrow and providential escape, and did not fail to express their gratitude to the young Englishman who had been the means of preserving their lives. He, however, seemed unwilling to talk on the subject.

"Nothing particular, sir, to thank me for," he answered. "Less said about it the better, according to my notion."

It was fortunate that they had economised their small stock of water and provisions, as they had been unable to replenish them at the island from which they had just escaped. It was necessary to be even still more careful than before, because it might be some time before they could reach any other island where they could obtain what they required.

Most of the English seamen were loud in their threats of vengeance against the savages, for their treacherous conduct.

"If we ever reach the old Ajax, we would like to get her to go back and blow the fellows to pieces," said one.

"No, no; that is not the way to treat them," observed Marco, when he understood what was said. "The way to treat them will be to send a missionary to teach them better things. With God's aid, that will we do as soon as we reach our own island, or can let our brethren at Raratonga know of their condition."

"Yes, you do speak like a real Christian, Marco," answered the seaman who had thoughtlessly made the proposal. "That's the right way, to be sure: I didn't mean that I would really wish to kill the poor savages, for of course they don't know better."

The next morning the wind was fair, the sea smooth, and the canoe glided swiftly over the waters. The work of the day was commenced, as usual, with a hymn and a prayer, and then the Scriptures were read. The young stranger stood aloof, disinclined, as it seemed, to join in the service. At length, Mr Manners invited him to join in the prayer he was about to offer up with his own men in English.

"Thank ye, sir," answered the stranger, giving the usual seaman's pull at his hair, when addressing an officer. "It's so long since I have prayed, that I have forgotten how."

"That is a sad thing, my lad," answered Mr Manners, "the sooner, then, you begin the better. Did you ever learn how to read your Bible?"

"Once, sir, long ago; but I have forgotten all about that too, I am afraid," answered the stranger. "For better than three years I haven't spoken a word of English. I don't think I could read, even if I was to try ever so much."

"We will see about that after we have had prayers," said Mr Manners in a kind tone. "There is a lad here who never, I believe, misses reading the Bible every day of his life, if he can avoid it. He will help me to teach you; won't you, Ben?"

"Yes, sir, very gladly," said Ben Hadden, who was appealed to.

After prayers, and when Mr Manners had offered up thanks for the preservation of himself and his companions from the hands of the treacherous savages, Ben brought out his well-worn Testament, which was somewhat the worse for the wetting it had got in salt-water, and, at a sign from Mr Manners, he went up to the stranger, and offered to read to him. Mr Manners told him to select the parable of the Prodigal Son, and several other portions of Scripture likely to interest a person whose mind had long been dormant to spiritual matters. The young man was evidently very much interested. Suddenly he interrupted Ben by remarking—

"That's just such a book as I once had. I remember it well. My father gave it to me just before I went to sea. I lost it, though, and have never looked into another since."

"My father gave this to me, and I've kept it carefully ever since. I wouldn't lose it for worlds," said Ben. "Look here: he wrote my name in it with his own hand. See: 'Benjamin Hadden'—though I was always called in our parts, Little Ben Hadden."

"You Ben Hadden!" exclaimed the stranger in a husky voice. "Did you ever hear speak of your brother Ned?"

"Yes indeed," cried Ben eagerly; "I came out to these parts to look for him. Can you tell me anything about him?"

"Well, I should think so," answered the stranger in the same husky voice as before; "though, to be sure, I cannot tell you much in his favour. What should you say if I was to tell you that I am Ned Hadden?"

"You my brother Ned!" exclaimed Ben, in a half-disappointed and doubting tone of voice. "You wouldn't deceive me, surely. I have long and long wished to find him. But are you indeed my brother Ned? Oh, tell me! tell me!"

"Yes, I am Ned Hadden—or was, there is no doubt about that; but I have become such a savage sort of chap, that I don't know very well what I am now."

Ben seized Ned's hand, and burst into tears. His brother was so different from what he had expected to find him—so rough and savage-looking almost, and ignorant; yet he was thankful that he had found him. Afterwards, when he thought the matter over, he saw that he had still greater reason to be thankful that he had found him, for Ned's own sake: the more savage and ignorant he was, the more important that he should be instructed in the truths of the gospel. From that moment forward that was Ben's daily, hourly task. He wished the voyage to be prolonged, that he might have his brother more to himself, to read to him, and teach him the Truth. Mr Manners took great pleasure in helping him in his pious task, and it was easy to see that Ned profited greatly by their instruction. His first inquiries had been for his family. He was much affected by hearing of the death of his father and brothers. That very event seemed to soften his heart, and make him willing to listen attentively to what Mr Manners and Ben said to him. He confessed that, when the canoe was seen approaching the island, he had consented to assist the natives in decoying her in, with the intention of destroying all on board; but that, on hearing the hymn sung, and, more than all, on listening to Ben's grace, the words of which sounded familiar to his ears, recollecting his early principles, he resolved to save the visitors, whom he also knew to be his countrymen.

All this came out but slowly, as his mind expanded under the instruction he was receiving. He had been so long among savages and heathens that he had imbibed many of their notions and principles; instead of improving them, he had nearly sunk to their level. Such has unhappily been the case with numerous European and American sailors, who have either been wrecked or have deserted their ships, and have lived long among the once savage inhabitants of the islands of the Pacific. Many of them have proved, by their evil influence and example, sad hindrances to the efforts of the missionaries in spreading among the natives the truths of the gospel.

For several days the canoe glided slowly on. Though strongly built, her form was not equal to those constructed by the Tonga islanders, noted for their speed among the surrounding groups of islands.

Mr Manners had begun to grow very anxious with regard to their provisions and water. Before he could hope to reach their final destination, it would be absolutely necessary to touch at some island where they might replenish their stock, both of one and the other. The weather, too, had shown signs of changing; and the sea, hitherto so calm, began to tumble and toss the canoe about in a way which strained her greatly, and made it necessary for a number of those on board to be continually baling. As the sea increased more and more, it was necessary to do this night and day without ceasing. All on board were accordingly looking out anxiously for some island where they might find shelter till the stormy weather was over.

For two days the wind had been increasing, and when night came on it was already blowing a heavy gale. The sail was lowered, and the canoe drove before it, kept by the rudder and paddles from broaching to. The night became very dark; on drove the canoe; breakers were heard not far off, and most of those on board believed that their last hour was come.

Presently the canoe was among the breakers, and the sea swept over her deck. Her crew with difficulty held on. In another moment she struck, and it seemed certain that she would be dashed to atoms. Still she floated, and the water became less broken. She drove on; her bow struck violently on a sandy beach, and tall trees rose before the eyes of those on board. They rushed forward, and as the wave receded they scrambled upwards till they reached the dry sand. How could they tell, though, that they were not to meet with the fate from which they had a few days before escaped? The lives of all were mercifully preserved, but it seemed too likely that their canoe had suffered some material injury from the blows she had received. A few, not without risk, ventured again on board, and succeeded in landing most of their scanty supply of provisions and water. A fire was then, after some time, lighted, round which they collected to dry their drenched garments.

They were all too anxious to sleep. Soon after daybreak, some persons were seen approaching in the distance. "Good news, my friends," exclaimed Marco, who was watching them; "they wear the dress of Christians; they are clothed and in their right mind." A party of natives now came up, and cordially welcomed the shipwrecked strangers. Some hurried back to bring water and provisions, others examined the canoe, which it was pretty evident was not in a condition again to go to sea. Marco found that he could very easily understand them; so could also Ned Hadden. They said that they had themselves been scarcely a year before untaught savages, but that a large ship came to their shores, and that those in her treated them kindly, and that a missionary was sent who had taught them the new way; that they found it very good, and that their great wish was to act in accordance with the precepts of Christianity. The missionary, who had come from Raratonga, was living not far off, and would soon be with them. Mr Manners, on hearing this account, and calculating the position of the island, had little doubt that this was the island visited by the Ajax, the natives of which had at first given so hostile a reception to those who had landed on their shores, but had finally been won over by kindness. This opinion was confirmed when the missionary, a very intelligent Tahitian, arrived. He said that the people had welcomed him from the first, and that all of them, young and old, seemed anxious to learn the Truth.

Mr Manners was satisfied from all he saw and heard that a genuine change had taken place among the people. He found that, though tolerably industrious, and improving in that respect also, they did not produce as yet much more food than they required for their own support. He was therefore unwilling to remain longer among them than was necessary. All his efforts, however, to get the canoe repaired were useless, as some of her principal beams were broken, and it became necessary to pull her to pieces and to rebuild her. He hoped, however, that, before that could be done, the island would be visited by the missionary vessel, which would either carry him and his people off, or through which he might inform Captain Bertram where he was. In the meantime, that they might not be a burden to the inhabitants, he advised Marco to offer the services of his people to assist in cultivating the ground, while he and his seamen set to work to erect more comfortable huts than any which he had seen on the island. Marco did not refuse to labour with his hands, but he was also actively employed in assisting the missionary in preaching to and teaching the people. In this he was helped by several of his companions. Schools, both for adults and children, were also formed, and visible progress was made.

Three months fled rapidly by, when one day a native came running up to Mr Manners' hut, to tell him that a vessel was approaching the island. He at once went, accompanied by most of his men, to the highest spot in the neighbourhood, whence he could have a good look-out over the sea. His heart leaped for joy, for the ship, there could be little doubt of it, was the Ajax herself. The seamen one and all were agreed that she was their own ship. She hove to, a boat came on shore, and Mr Martin and his crew were cordially welcomed by their shipmates. The loss of the schooner, in consequence of her non-arrival, had been supposed probable, and the Ajax was now on a cruise to ascertain her fate, and to rescue any of the survivors of those who had been on board. After doing this, she was to return to Callao, where the admiral in the Pacific then was.

It is not necessary to describe the reception Mr Manners and his people met with on board their ship. Mr Martin was thankful to get back his son, and more so when he discovered the great change which had taken place in him. Ned was at once rated on the books of the Ajax as one of her crew. He had greatly improved since he had been discovered, and, with Ben constantly at his side, assisted also by Mr Manners, he continued to progress in Christian knowledge, as well as to improve in conduct and manners. Captain Bertram offered to receive Marco and his fellow-islanders on board. Two begged to remain where they were; the rest accepted his offer, Marco begging that he, with two others who had volunteered to accompany him, might be landed on the island on which Ned Hadden had so long resided. This Captain Bertram undertook to do, hoping that the appearance of a ship-of-war might awe the natives, and induce them to treat the missionaries with due respect. This plan was carried out, and Ned, who went on shore first, succeeded in extracting a promise from their chief that he would protect them. After landing the natives at their respective islands, the Ajax returned to Callao. There she remained till her term of service had expired, and she once more made sail for Old England. Amply was Ben Hadden repaid for all the dangers he had gone through when he was able to present his long-lost brother Ned to their widowed mother, not only rescued from the power of the savages, but from the dominion of sin and Satan.

And now there is not much more to tell about Ben Hadden. The experience he had had of a seafaring life confirmed his original desire to be a sailor; and the favour he had won, by his good conduct, in the regards of the captain and officers of the Ajax, was of great advantage to him, and led to his promotion in the service. When last we heard of him, Ben was what is called a warrant-officer, on board an admiral's ship—that admiral being his first patron and captain.

As long as his mother lived, Ben had the happiness of doing very much for her comfort, and also in assisting his older brother Ned in obtaining a good situation on shore; for he had had enough of the sea and savages, he said. So Mrs Hadden, though she remembered with a feeling of sadness the loss of her husband and other sons, yet felt and thankfully acknowledged that her God and Saviour had been very good to her in sparing those two—Ned and Ben; both of whom heartily adopted, and lived according to, their father's favourite motto:

"Do Right, whatever comes of it; And Trust in God."

THE END.