"But surely you can't regard that as a message to us when you know that you turned to it by mere chance," said Sam.

"I do regard it as a special message to us," returned Robin with decision.

"And what if you had turned up an entirely unsuitable or inapplicable verse?" said Sam.

"Then I should have concluded that God had no special message for us just now, but left us to that general comfort and instruction contained throughout the whole word. When, however, special comfort is sought and found, it seems to me ungrateful to refuse it."

"But I don't refuse it, Robin," returned Sam; "I merely doubt whether it is sent to us or not."

"Why, Sam, all the bible was sent to us for comfort and instruction."

"True—true. I have not thought much on that subject, Robin, but I'll try to believe at present that you are right, for we stand much in need of strong hope at all events. Here we are, none of us knows how far from the nearest land, with little food and less water, on a thing that the first stiff breeze may knock to pieces, without shelter and without compass!"

"Without shelter and compass, Mr Shipton!" said Jim Slagg, who had hitherto listened in silence to the conversation; "why, what d'ye call this?" (taking hold of the sail). "Ain't that shelter enough, and won't the sun guide us by day and the stars by night. It seems to me that you are too despondin', Mr Shipton."

"Don't 'mister' me any more, Slagg. It was all very well aboard ship where we had our relative positions, but now we are comrades in distress, and must be on an equal footing."

"Very good," replied Slagg, looking round in his comrades' faces, and raising his voice as if making a speech. "Bein' equal, as you say, I takes the liberty o' callin' a general meetin' o' this free and—if I may be allowed the expression—easy Republic. Moreover, I move myself into the chair and second the motion, which, nobody objectin', is carried unanimously. Gentlemen, the business of this here meetin' is to appoint a commander to this here ship, an' what could be more in accordance with the rule o' three—not to mention the rules o' four and common sense—than a Shipton takin' command. Who's goin' to make the first reslootion?"

Entering into the spirit of the thing, Robin moved that Samuel Shipton be appointed to command the ship and the party, with the title of captain.

"And without pay," suggested Slagg.

"And I move," said Stumps, who was just beginning to understand the joke, though a little puzzled by the fact that it was done in earnest, "I move that Robin Wright be first leftenant."

"Brayvo, Stumps!" cried Slagg, "your intellec' is growin'. It on'y remains to appoint you ship's monkey and maid-of-all-work—specially dirty work—and, then, with a hearty vote o' thanks to myself for my conduct in the chair, to vacate the same an' dissolve the meetin'."

These matters having been satisfactorily settled, the castaways proceeded to prepare breakfast, and while this was being done the recently appointed captain looked once more anxiously round in the hope of seeing the large raft with their late shipmates on it, but it was not to be seen. Neither raft, ship, nor any other sign of man wos visible on all the glittering sea.

Breakfast was not a tempting meal. The biscuits were, indeed, as good as ship's biscuits ever are, and when moistened with sea water formed a comparatively pleasant as well as strengthening food; but the barrel of pork was raw; they had no means of cooking it, and had not yet experienced those pangs of hunger which induce men to luxuriate in anything that will allay the craving. They therefore breakfasted chiefly on biscuit, merely making an attempt, with wry faces, to swallow a little pork.

Observing this, Sam said, in a half-jocular manner:—

"Now, my lads, it is quite clear to me that in taking command of this ship, my first duty is to point out the evils that will flow from unrestrained appetite for biscuit;—also to insist on the cultivation of a love for raw pork. You have no notion how good it is when fairly believed in. Anyhow you'll have to try, for it won't do to eat up all the biscuit, and have to feed at last on pure pork."

"I calls it impure pork," said Slagg; "hows'-ever, capting, you've on'y to give the word and we obey. P'r'aps the best way'll be to put us on allowance."

This suggestion was at once acted on, and a considerable part of that bright day was spent by Sam and Robin in calculating how much pork should go to a biscuit, so that they should diminish in an equal ratio, and how much of both it would be safe to allow to each man per diem, seeing that they might be many days, perhaps even weeks, at sea. While the "officers" were thus engaged, Slagg and his friend Stumps busied themselves in making a mast and yard out of one of the planks—split in two for the purpose—and fitting part of their sail to the same.

Evening found them with the work done, a small sail hoisted on the rude mast, the remaining part of the canvas fitted more securely as a covering, and the apportioned meal before them. But the sail hung idly from its yard and flapped gently to and fro as the little ark rose and sank on the swell, for the calm still prevailed and the gorgeous sunset, with its golden clouds and bright blue sky, was so faithfully reflected in the sea, that they seemed to be floating in the centre of a crystal ball which had been dipped in the rainbow.

When night descended, the scene was, if possible, still more impressive, for although the bright colours had vanished, the castaways still floated in the centre of a dark crystal universe, whose unutterable depths were radiant with stars of varied size and hue.

Long they sat and gazed in solemn admiration at the scene, talking in subdued tones of past, present, and future, until their eyes refused to do their office and the heavy lids began to droop. Then, reluctantly, they crept beneath the sail-cloth covering and lay down to rest.

The planks were hard, no doubt, but our castaways were hardy; besides, a few folds of the superfluous portions of the large sail helped to soften the planks here and there.

"Now, boys," said Slagg, as he settled himself with a long-drawn sigh, "the on'y thing we wants to make us perfectly happy is a submarine telegraph cable 'tween this an' England, to let us say good-night to our friend, ashore, an' hope they won't be long in sending out to search for us."

It is sad to be obliged to record that, Slagg's companions being already asleep, this tremendous and original piece of pleasantry was literally cast upon the waters, where it probably made no impression whatever on the inhabitants of the slumbering sea.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

IN WHICH WILL BE FOUND MORE SURPRISES THAN ONE.

Events of the most singular description are often prefaced by incidents of the most commonplace character. Who is so inexperienced in the vicissitudes of life as not to know this!

Early in the morning that succeeded their second night on the raft, Robin Wright awoke with a very commonplace, indeed a vulgar, snore; we might almost call it a snort. Such as it was, however, it proved to be a most important link in the chain of events which it is our province to narrate.

To explain: It must be understood that John Shanks, or Stumps, among other eccentricities, practised sprawling in his sleep, spreading himself abroad in inconceivable attitudes, shooting out an arm here, or a leg there, to the alarm or indignation of bedfellows, insomuch that, when known, bedfellows refused to remain with him.

Aware of Stumps's propensity, Slagg had so arranged that his friend should lie at the stern of the raft with two strands of the binding-cable between him and Robin, who lay next to him. During the first part of the night, Stumps, either overcome by weariness or subdued by his friends' discourses on the stellar world, behaved pretty well. Only once did he fling out and bestow an unmerited blow on the pork-barrel. But, about daybreak, he began to sprawl, gradually working his way to the extreme edge of the raft, where a piece of wood, nailed there on purpose, prevented him from rolling off altogether. It did not, however, prevent his tossing one of his long legs over the edge, which he accordingly did. The leg and foot were naked. He preferred to sleep so, even when bedless, having been brought up in shoe-and-stockingless society. With his foot dipping lightly in the wave, he prolonged his repose.

They were slipping quietly along at the time under the influence of a steady though gentle breeze, which had sprung up and filled their sail soon after they lay down to rest. An early shark, intent on picking up sea-worms, observed Stumps's foot, and licked his lips, no doubt. He sank immediately for much the same reason that little boys retire to take a race before a leap. Turning on his back, according to custom, he went at the foot like a submarine thunderbolt.

Now, it was at that precise moment that Robin Wright snored, as aforesaid. The snore awoke Stumps, who had another sprawl, and drew up his leg gently—oh, how gently compared with what he would have done had he known what you know, reader! Nevertheless, the action was in time, else would he have had, for the rest of his life, a better title than heretofore to his nickname. As it was, the nose and lips of the slimy monster struck the youth's foot and slid up the side of his leg.

Hideous was the yell with which Stumps received the salute. Acrobatic was the tumble with which he rolled over his comrades, and dire was the alarm created in all their hearts as they bounced from under the respective corners of their covering, and stood up, aghast!

"You twopenny turnip," said Slagg, "why did you screech like—"

He stopped. There was no need to finish the question, for the fin of the disappointed shark, describing angry zig-zags in the water close by, furnished a sufficient answer.

"He has only grazed me," said Stumps, feeling his leg anxiously.

"Only grazed you! rather say crazed you," returned Sam, "for a cry like that could only come from a madman. What were you doing?—washing your feet in the sea?"

"No, not exactly," replied Stumps, somewhat abashed, "but one of my legs got over the end of the raft somehow, and was trailing in the water."

"Hallo! I say, look there, Sam!" said Robin, with sudden animation, pointing to the horizon straight ahead of them; "is that the big raft or a ship?"

"Neither, Robin," replied Sam, after a prolonged and earnest gaze; "it must be an island. What do you think, Slagg?"

The incident of the shark was almost totally forgotten in the excitement caused by this new discovery. For some time Slagg and all the others gazed intently without uttering a word. Then Slagg looked round with a deep sigh.

"Yes, it's a island," he said; "no doubt about that."

"What a blessing!" exclaimed Robin, with heartfelt emotion.

"Well, that depends," said Sam, with a shake of the head. "Islands in the China seas are not always places of refuge—at least for honest people."

"By no means," added Slagg; "I've heard say that the pirates there are about the wust set o' cut-throats goin'—though I don't myself believe there's much difference atween one set and another."

The light wind which had carried the raft slowly over the sea, while they were asleep, now freshened into a stiff breeze, and tested the qualities of their craft, severely; but, with a little strengthening—an extra turn of a rope or an additional nail—here and there, it held pretty well together. At breakfast, which was served according to regulation, they discussed their situation.

"You see," said Sam, "this may turn out to be a small barren island, in which case we shall have to leave it and trust to falling in with some vessel; or it may be inhabited by savages or pirates, in which case we shall have to leave it from prudential motives, if they will allow us to do so. In any case, we won't begin by being extravagant with the provisions to-day."

As they drew near to the island, the probability of its being inhabited became greater, because, although solitary, and, according to Sam's amateur calculations, far remote from other lands, it presented a bold and fertile aspect. It was not, indeed, large in circumference, but it rose to a considerable height, and was covered with rich vegetation, above which waved numerous groups of the cocoa-nut palm. A band of light yellow sand fringed the shore, on which the waves roiled in a still lighter fringe of foam, while two or three indentations seemed to indicate the existence of creeks or openings into the interior.

With eager gaze the castaways watched this island as they slowly approached it—the minuter beauties of rock and dell and leafy copse brightening into view as the sun mounted the clear blue sky.

"What I have thought or dreamed of sometimes, when dear mother used to speak of heaven," murmured Robin, as if communing with himself.

"Well, I have not thought much of heaven," said Sam, "but I shouldn't wonder if it's something like the paradise, from which Adam and Eve were driven."

"There's no sign o' natives as yet," said Slagg, who, regardless of these remarks, had been gazing at the island with eyes shaded by his hand.

"Yes there is; yonder is one sitting on the rocks," said Stumps; "don't you see him move?"

"That's not a native," returned Slagg, "it's too long in the back for a human being. It's a big monkey—a gorilla, maybe. Did you ever hear tell of gorillas being in them regions?"

"I rather think not," said Sam; "and to my mind it looks more like a rock than anything else."

A rock it proved to be, to the discomfiture of Slagg and Stumps; but the rock was not without interest, for it was soon seen that a rope was attached to it, and that the rope, stretching across the entrance to a creek, was lost in the foliage on the side opposite to the rock.

"Why, I do believe," said Sam, suddenly, in an impressive whisper, "that there is a vessel of some sort at the other end of that rope, behind the point, partly hid by the trees. Don't you see the top of her masts?"

After long and earnest gazing, and much whispered conversation—though there was no occasion for caution at such a distance from the land—they came to the conclusion that a vessel lay concealed just within the mouth of the creek towards which the wind was driving them, and that, as they apparently had not been discovered by those who owned the vessel, their wisest course would be to land, if possible without attracting attention, somewhat farther along the coast.

"But how is that to be done," asked Robin, "as we have neither oar nor rudder?"

"Nothing easier," returned Slagg, seizing the axe and wrenching up the plank that had prevented Stumps from finding a watery grave, "I've on'y got to cut a handle at one end, an' we've got an oar at once."

In a few minutes the handy youth converted the piece of plank into a rude oar, with which he steered the raft, so that it gradually drew to the southward of the creek where the strange vessel lay, and finally took the land in another inlet not far distant.

It was evident, from the silence around, that no one was stirring in the vessel, and that their approach had not been perceived. Congratulating themselves on this piece of good fortune, they lowered their sail, drew the raft under the bushes, which in some parts of the inlet came close down to the sea, and then hurried stealthily through a palm-grove towards the vessel. They reached the margin of the grove in a few minutes, and there discovered that the stranger was apparently a Chinese craft, but whether a trading-vessel, or smuggler, or pirate, they had no means of knowing.

As they lay flat on their faces in the rank grass, peeping through the luxuriant undergrowth, they could see that two men paced the deck with musket on shoulder as if on guard, but no other human beings were visible.

"Shall we go forward and trust them as honest traders?" asked Sam in a whisper.

"I think not," replied Slagg; "if all's true that one hears, there is not much honesty afloat in them seas. My advice is to stay where we are and see what turns up."

"What think you, Robin?"

Robin was of opinion that they should trust the strangers and go forward. Stumps agreed with him, but Sam thought with Slagg. Their indecision, however, was cut short by a most startling occurrence.

While they were yet whispering together, the sound of voices was heard in the distance. Our castaways at once sank flatter into the grass, and became mute.

In a few minutes the voices drew gradually nearer, until they were quite close to the alarmed watchers. Suddenly, from among the bushes on the other side of an open space just in front of them, there issued a band of men, walking in single file. Their appearance might have aroused grave anxiety in the most unsuspecting breast, for, besides possessing faces in which the effects of dissipation and evil passions were plainly stamped, they were armed—as the saying is—to the teeth, with short swords, cavalry pistols, and carbines. They were dressed in varied Eastern costume, and appeared to be of Malay origin, though some bore closer resemblance to the Chinese.

The man who marched in advance—evidently the leader of the band—was unusually tall and powerful, with a remarkably stern, but not altogether forbidding, countenance.

"Pirates!" whispered Slagg.

"Looks like them, but may be smugglers," replied Sam in the same cautious tone.

Even Robin's unsuspecting and inexperienced nature would not permit him to believe that they were honest traders. Had any doubts on the subject lingered in their minds, these would have been effectually cleared away by the scenes which immediately followed.

While the pirates were still at some distance from the shore, sudden shouts and yells came from the vessel, which had, up to that time, been lying so peacefully at anchor, and it was at once clear that a furious hand-to-hand fight was taking place upon her deck.

"It must be the poor slaves who have risen," whispered Sam.

The pirates had drawn their swords and pistols at the first sound of the fight, and rushed to the rescue. They well knew that, while they had been on shore, the unfortunate captives chained in the vessel's hold had succeeded in freeing themselves, and were endeavouring to overcome the few men left to guard them.

Slaves captured at various times by the scoundrels who infest those seas, are sometimes made to work at the oars—which are much used during calm weather—until they die, or become so worn out as to be useless, when they are mercilessly thrown overboard. That the slaves referred to on this occasion, animated probably by despair, had effected their release, and plucked up heart to assault the armed guard, was a matter of some surprise to the pirates: not so, however, to our adventurers, when they saw, foremost among the mutineers, a man clad in the garb of a European sailor.

"That's the boy as has put 'em up to it," said Jim Slagg, in a suppressed but eager voice, "they'd never have had the pluck to do it of themselves."

"We'd better go an' help 'em," said Stumps, whose usually stupid face was lighted up with excitement.

"Right, lad," exclaimed Slagg, starting up; but Sam laid his hand firmly on his arm.

"Too late," he said; "don't you see that the guard have prevailed. Besides, the pirate crew are in their boats—almost at the vessel. See, they swarm up the side."

"Poor, poor sailor!" said Robin Wright, in a voice of the deepest pity.

"You may well say that; no doubt he is killed by this time," said Slagg; "but no—he is fightin' still!"

This was indeed true. Some of the slaves, rendered desperate no doubt, were still maintaining the hopeless fight with handspikes and such arms as they had succeeded in wresting from the guard at the first onset, and the stalwart figure of the European sailor was seen swaying aloft a clubbed musket and felling a pirate at every blow. Animated by his example, the other slaves fought with resolute bravery, but when the rest of the pirate crew joined the guard and surrounded them, they were instantly overpowered. Then those who had not been already slain were led hastily to the side, a sword was drawn across their throats, or thrust through them, and the bodies were tossed into the sea. Among those led thus to the side was the brave sailor. Although his features could not be distinguished at such a distance by those in ambush, it could be clearly seen that he came boldly forward, resolved, no doubt, to meet his fate like a man.

"Oh, God, spare him!" burst in a voice of agony from Robin, who sprang up as if with the intention of rushing to the rescue, regardless of consequences, but a second time Sam Shipton's restraining hand was ready.

"What could we do, with the sea between us and the ship? Even if we were on the deck could we four deliver him from a hundred?"

Robin sank down again with a groan, but his fascinated eyes still gazed at the pirate vessel. To his great surprise, the sailor at that moment uttered a long and ringing cheer! The act seemed to overawe even the bloodstained pirates, for they hesitated an instant. Then one of them pointed his sword at the sailor's back, but at the same moment the leader of the band was seen to strike up the sword and give some hurried directions. A rope was instantly brought, with which the arms and legs of the seaman were secured, and he was carried below.

"Our prayer has been answered!" exclaimed Robin with renewed excitement; "they are going to spare him."

Sam shook his head. "I fear not, Robin; at least, if I may judge from what I have read of these villains, they have only spared him for a time for the purpose of torturing him."

Robin shuddered. "Well, I don't know," he said, "whatever they may do, God has answered our prayer, for they have spared him; and if God could deliver him thus at the last moment, surely He can deliver him altogether. But was it not remarkable that he should give such a cheer when—as he must have thought—at the point of death, for it sounded more like a cheer of triumph than defiance?"

"It was strange indeed. The effect of strong excitement, I fancy."

While they were conversing, the pirates were busily engaged in getting up the anchor and hoisting the sails of their craft. At the same time the long oars or sweeps were manned by such of the slaves as remained alive, and the vessel slowly glided out of the creek, and put to sea. Fortunately the fight had engrossed the attention of those on board so much that they had failed to observe the little raft, which, although partially concealed by bushes, might not otherwise have escaped detection.

Our voyagers were still congratulating themselves on their good fortune in this respect, when the pirate-ship was observed to change her course, turn completely round and return towards the land!

"They've seen us!" ejaculated Robin in consternation.

"Our doom is fixed," said Sam in a tone of bitter despair.

Slagg and his friend were so much overwhelmed that they could not speak.

On came the vessel—under oars—straight for the creek where the raft lay. There could be no doubt now that they had been seen.

While they gazed in blank dismay, utterly unable to decide on any course of action, an event occurred which totally altered the aspect of affairs. Suddenly, as if by magic, the pirate-ship was converted into a great black-and-white cloud, from out of which there shot an indescribable mass of broken spars and wreckage which fell in all directions in a heavy shower into the sea. Two seconds later and there came a roar as if a crash of the loudest thunder had rent the sky. The powder-magazine had been fired, and the pirate-ship had been blown literally to atoms!

When the last of the terrible shower had fallen, nothing whatever of the vessel was to be seen save the floating morsels of the wreck. It was, we might say, a tremendous instance of almost absolute annihilation.

Recovering from the shock of horror and surprise, Sam Shipton ran swiftly down to the spot where the raft lay, followed by his companions.

"There may be some left alive!" he cried. "Quick—shove her off. Yonder's a pole, Robin, fetch it."

Another minute and they were afloat. Pushing with the pole, sculling with the rude oar, and paddling with a plank torn off, they made for the scene of the explosion.

"I see something moving," said Stumps, who, having no implement to work with, stood up in front and directed their course.

Soon they were in the midst of the debris. It was an awful sight, for there, mingled with riven spars and planks and cabin furniture, and entangled in ravelled cordage, lay the torn lifeless remains of the pirates. Sharks were already swimming about in anticipation of a feast.

"Did you not see symptoms of life somewhere?" asked Sam, as he stood beside Stumps, and looked earnestly round.

"Yes, I did, but I don't now—O yes! there it is again. Give way, Slagg, give way. There!"

The raft was soon alongside of the moving object. It was the body of the gallant sailor who had fought so well that day. His limbs were still fast bound, excepting one arm, with which now and then he struck out feebly, as if trying to swim. Lying on his back his mouth and nose were above water.

"Gently, gently, boys," said Robin, as they lifted the head out of the water and slowly drew the shoulders up; "now, a good heave and—that's it."

The body slid heavily on the raft, and the motion seemed to rouse the seaman's spirit, for he uttered a faint cheer, while they knelt round him, and tried in various ways to restore him to consciousness.

"Hurrah for old England!" he cried presently, in an imbecile manner, making an abortive effort to lift his loose arm; "never say die— s'long's there's—a shok in th' lotter."

"Well done, old saltwater!" cried Slagg, unable to restrain a laugh; "you'll live to fight yet, or I'm mistaken."

There was indeed some prospect that the poor fellow would recover, for, after a short time, he was able to gaze at his rescuers with an intensity of surprise that betokened the return not only of consciousness but of reason.

"Well, well," he said, after gazing around for some time in silence as he lay with his head supported on the sail, "I s'pose it's all right, and I'll wake up all square in the mornin', but it's out o' sight the most comical dream I've had since I was a babby. I only hope it'll take a pleasanter turn if it's agoin' to continue."

With this philosophical reflection the sailor shut his eyes, and disposed himself to sleep until the period of real waking should arrive.

Thinking this the best thing he could do in the circumstances, his rescuers turned to examine whether any of the others had survived the explosion, but, finding that all were dead or had sunk, they returned to the land.

Here, after securing the raft, they made a sort of litter, with the sail spread on the oar and a plank, on which they carried the sailor to the sheltered spot whence they had witnessed the fight. As the poor man had by that time fallen into a genuine slumber—which appeared to be dreamless—he was left under the care of Stumps and Slagg, while Sam and Robin went off to ascertain whether or not the island was inhabited.

"We will go straight up to the highest point at once, so as to get a bird's-eye view of it," said Sam. "I can't help thinking that it must be inhabited, for these scoundrels would not care to land, I should fancy, unless there was some one to rob."

"It may be so, Sam. But if they had come to rob, don't you think they would not have returned to their ship without captives or booty?"

"There is something in that, Robin. Come; we shall see."



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

STRANGE DISCOVERIES ON PIRATE ISLAND.

On reaching the first rising-ground that lay before them, Robin and his friend received a great disappointment, for, instead of a richly wooded country, which the coast scenery where they landed had led them to expect, they found an exceedingly barren region, as far, at least, as the next ridge in advance.

"No use to go further," said Sam, despondingly; "nothing but barren rocks and a few scrubby bushes here. Evidently there are no inhabitants, for it would be almost impossible to live on such a place."

"But it may be better further inland," said Robin. "I can't think that the pirates would come here for nothing. At all events let us go to the next ridge."

Without replying, Sam followed Robin, but the next ridge revealed nothing more hopeful. Indeed the prospect thence was, if possible, more depressing, for it was seen that the island was small, that its sides were so steep all round, as far as the eye could reach, that there was apparently no landing-place except at the spot where they had been driven on shore. The elevated interior seemed as barren as the circumference, and no neighbouring island was to be seen in all the wide field of vision. The only living creatures visible were innumerable sea-birds which circled round the cliffs, and which, on espying the intruders, came clamouring overhead, as if to order them angrily away.

"Having come thus far we may as well go to the top and have a look all round," said Robin, "and see—here is something like a track worn on the rock." Sam's drooping spirits revived at once. He examined the track carefully and pronounced it a "human" track. "The sea-gulls could not make it, Robin. Goats, sheep, and cows cannot live without grass, therefore it was not made by them. A track is not usually worn on hard rock by the passage of pirates only once or twice over them. There is mystery here, Robin. Come on!"

It will be observed that Robin's spirit was more hopeful than that of his friend, nevertheless Sam being physically more energetic, was, when not depressed, prone to take the lead. He walked smartly forward therefore, followed humbly by his friend, and they soon reached what proved to be the summit of the island.

Here supreme astonishment was the chief ingredient in their feelings, for they stood on the edge of a slope, at the foot of which, as in a basin, lay what seemed to be a small cultivated garden in the midst of a miniature valley covered with trees and shrubs, through which a tiny rivulet ran. This verdant little gem was so hemmed in by hills that it could not be seen from the sea or any low part of the island. But what surprised the discoverers most was the sight of an old woman, bent nearly double, who was busily at work in the garden. Not far from her was an old man, who, from his motions while at work, appeared to be blind. Their costume being nondescript, besides ragged, did not betoken their nationality.

Sam and Robin glanced at each other in silence, then turned to have another gaze at the scene.

"We've found," said Sam, slowly and impressively, "a robber's nest!"

"D'you think so, Sam?"

"Think so! I'm sure of it. Just think. There is nothing on such an island as this to attract any one at all—much less robbers or pirates— except the fact that it is unattractive, and, apparently, far removed from the haunts of honest men. Depend upon it, Robin, that the pirates whom we saw have made this their head-quarters and place of deposit for their booty—their bank as it were, for it's too small for their home; besides, if it were such, we should see a colony of women and children. No—this is the great Pirate Bank of the Southern Seas, and yonder we behold the secretary and cashier!"

"And what," said Robin with a laugh, "if there should be a few clerks in the bank? We might perhaps find them troublesome fellows to deal with."

"We might, Robin. Would it not be wise to return and let Slagg and Stumps know what we have discovered, and take counsel together before we act."

"Agreed," said Robin. "Isn't it strange though," he added, as they turned to retrace their steps, "that there are no buildings of any kind—only a little garden."

"It is somewhat puzzling, I confess, but we shall—"

He stopped abruptly, and stood rooted to the ground, for there, on a rock in front of him, with her light, graceful figure, and flowing golden hair, pictured against the blue sky, stood a little girl, apparently about six or seven years of age—an angel as it seemed to the amazed youths!

She had caught sight of the strangers at the very moment they had observed her, and stood gazing at them with a half eager, half terrified look in her large lustrous eyes.

With a sudden and irresistible impulse Robin extended his arms towards her. She made a little run towards him, then stopped, and the look of fear again came over her beautiful face. Robin was afraid to advance lest he should frighten her. So, with an earnest look and smile, he said, "Come here, little one."

She answered the invitation by bounding towards our hero and clasping him round the neck, causing him to sit down rather abruptly on a rock which lay conveniently behind.

"Oh! I'm so glad you've come at last!" said the child, in English so good that there could be no question as to her nationality. "I was quite sure mamma would send to fetch me away from this tiresome place, but you've been so long of coming—so very very long."

The thought of this, and perhaps the joy of being "sent for" at last, caused her to sob and bury her face in Robin's sympathetic bosom.

"Cheer up, little one, and don't cry," said Robin, passing his hand over her sunny hair, "your Father, at all events, has sent for you, if not your mother."

"I have no father," said the child, looking up quickly.

"Yes you have, little one; God is your father."

"Did He send you to fetch me?" she asked in surprise.

"I have not the smallest doubt," answered Robin, "that He sent us to take care of you, and take you to your mother if that be possible. But tell me, little one, what is your name?"

"Letta."

"And your surname?"

"My what!" exclaimed Letta, opening her large eyes to their widest, causing both Sam and Robin to laugh.

"Your other name, dear," said Sam.

"I have no other name. Mamma always called me Letta—nothing else."

"And what was mamma's name?" asked Robin.

"It was mamma, of course," replied Letta, with a look of wonder that so silly a question should be asked.

Sam and Robin exchanged looks, and the former shook his head. "You'll not get much information out of her, I fear. Ask her about the pirates," he whispered.

"Letta," said Robin, settling the child more comfortably on his knee—an attention which she received with a sigh of deep contentment,—"are the people here kind to you?"

"Yes, very kind. Old Meerta is as kind to me almost as mamma used to be, but I don't love her so much—not nearly so much,—and blind Bungo is a dear old man."

"That's nice. And the others—are they kind to you?"

"What others? Oh, I suppose you mean the men who come and stay for a time, and then go off again. O no! They are not kind. They are bad men—very naughty; they often fight, and I think call each other bad names, but I don't understand their language very well. They never hurt me, but they are very rough, and I don't like them at all. They all went away this morning. I was so glad, for they won't be back again for a good long while, and Meerta and Bungo won't get any more hard knocks, and whippings, till they come back."

"Ha! they won't come back in a hurry—not these ones at least," said Sam in a voice that frightened Letta, inducing her to cling closer to Robin.

"Don't be afraid, little one," said the latter, "he's only angry with the bad men that went away this morning. Are there any of them still remaining here?"

"What, in the caves?"

"Ay, in the caves—or anywhere?"

"No they're all away. Nobody left but me and Meerta and blind Bungo."

"Is it a long time since you came here?"

"O yes, very very long!" replied the child, with a sad weary look; "so long that—that you can't think."

"Come, dear; tell us all about it," said Robin in a coaxing tone,—"all about mamma and how you came here."

"Very well," said Letta, quite pleased with the request. Clearing her little throat with the emphasis of one who has a long story to tell, she began with the statement that "mamma was a darling."

From this, as a starting-point, she gave an amazing and rambling account of the joys and toys of infancy, which period of life seemed to have been spent in a most beautiful garden full of delicious fruits and sunshine, where the presiding and ever present angel was mamma. Then she told of a dark night, and a sudden awaking in the midst of flames and smoke and piercing cries, when fierce men seized her and carried her away, put her into a ship, where she was dreadfully sick for a long long time, until they landed on a rocky island, and suddenly she found herself "there,"—pointing as she spoke to the little garden below them. While she was yet describing her feelings on arrival, a voice shouting Letta was heard, and she instantly struggled from Robin's knee.

"O let me go!" she cried. "It's Meerta calling me, and I never let her call twice."

"Why? Would she be angry?"

"No, but she would be sorry. Do let me go!"

"But won't you let us go too?" asked Sam.

"O yes, if you want to come. This is the road," she added, as she took Robin by the hand; "and you must be very careful how you go, else you'll fall and hurt yourselves."

Great was the amazement, and not slight the alarm of Meerta, when she beheld her little charge thus piloting two strangers down the hill. She spoke hurriedly to her blind companion, and at first seemed disposed to hide herself, but the man evidently dissuaded her from such a course, and when Letta ran forward, seized her hard old hands and said that God had sent people to take her back to mamma, she dismissed her fears and took to laughing immoderately.

It soon became evident to our adventurers that the woman was in her dotage, while the old man was so frail that only a few of the sands of life remained to run. They both understood a little English, but spoke in such a remarkably broken manner, that there was little prospect of much additional information being obtained from them.

"You hungry—hungry?" asked the old woman, with a sudden gleam of hospitality. "Come—come—me gif you for heat."

She took Robin by the hand and led him towards a cavern, the mouth of which had not been visible higher up the mountain. Sam followed, led by Letta.

The interior of the cavern was lofty and the floor level. Besides this, it was sumptuously furnished in a fashion singularly out of keeping with the spot and its surroundings. Pictures hung on the walls, Persian rugs lay on the floors. Ottomans, covered with silk and velvet, were strewn about here and there, among easy-chairs of various kinds, some formed of wicker-work—in the fantastic shapes peculiar to the East—others of wood and cane, having the ungainly and unreasonable shapes esteemed by Western taste. Silver lamps and drinking-cups and plates of the finest porcelain were also scattered about, for there was no order in the cavern, either as to its arrangement or the character of its decoration. In the centre stood several large tables of polished wood, on which were the remains of what must have been a substantial feast—the dishes being as varied as the furniture—from the rice and egg messes of Eastern origin, to the preserved sardines of the West.

"Ha! ha!" laughed the weird old creature who ushered the astonished youths into this strange banqueting hall, "the rubberts—rubbers—you calls dem?"

"Robbers, she means; that's the naughty men," explained Letta, who seemed to enjoy the old woman's blunders in the English tongue.

"Yis, dats so—roberts an' pyrits—ha! ha! dems feed here dis mornin'. You feed dis afternoons. Me keeps house for dem. Dey tinks me alone wid Bungo an' Letta, ho! ho! but me's got cumpiny dis day. Sit down an' grub wat yous can. Doo you good. Doo Letta and Bungo good. Doos all good. Fire away! Ha! ha-a! Keep you's nose out o' dat pie, Bungo, you brute. Vous git sik eff you heat more."

Regardless of this admonition, the poor old man broke off a huge mass of pie-crust, which he began to mouth with his toothless gums, a quiet smile indicating at once his indifference to Meerta and consequences, while he mumbled something about its not being every day he got so good a chance.

"Das true," remarked the old woman, with another hilarious laugh. "Dey go hoff awful quick dis day."

While Sam and Robin sat down to enjoy a good dinner, or rather breakfast, of which they stood much in need, Letta explained in a disjointed rambling fashion, that after a feed of this kind the naughty men usually had a fight, after which they took a long sleep, and then had the dishes cleaned up and the silver things locked away before taking their departure from the cave for "a long, long time," by which, no doubt, she indicated the period spent on a pilfering expedition. But on this particular occasion, she added, while the naughty men were seated at the feast, one of their number from their ship came hastily in and said something, she could not tell what, which caused them at once to leap up and rush out of the cave, and they had not come back since.

"And they're not likely to come back, little one," said Robin through a mouthful of rice.

"Ha! ha-a!" laughed Sam through a mouthful of pie-crust.

"Ho! ho!" cried the old woman, with a look of surprise, "yous bery brav boy, I dessay, but if dem roberts doos kum back, you soon laugh on wrong side ob de mout', for dey screw yous limbses off, an' ho! skrunch yous teeth hout, an' roast you 'live, so you better heat w'at yous can an' go hof—fast as you couldn't."

"I say, Robin," said Sam, unable to restrain a smile at the expression of Letta's face, as she listened to this catalogue of horrors, "that speech might have taken away our appetites did we not know that the 'roberts' are all dead."

"Dead!" exclaimed the old woman with a start and a gleam of serious intelligence, such as had not before appeared on her wrinkled visage; "are de roberts all dead?"

"All," replied Sam, who thereupon gave the old pair a full account of what had been witnessed on the shore.

Strange to say, the old man and woman were much depressed by the news, although, from what they afterwards related, they had been very cruelly treated by the pirates, by whom they had been enslaved for many years. Nay, old Meerta even dropped a tear or two quietly to their memory, for, as she remarked, by way of explanation or excuse, "dey wasn't all so bad as each oder."

However, she soon recovered her composure, and while Sam Shipton returned to the shore to fetch their comrades to the cave, she told Robin, among other things, that the pirates had brought Letta to the island two years before, along with a large quantity of booty, but that she did not know where she came from, or to whom she belonged.

Sam Shipton resolved to give his comrades the full benefit of the surprise in store, therefore, on returning to them, he merely said that he had left Robin in a rather curious place in the interior, where they had discovered both food and drink in abundance, and that he had come to conduct them to it.

By that time the seaman whom they had rescued had recovered considerably, and was able to walk with assistance, though still rather confused in his mind and disposed to be silent. At first he expressed a desire to be left to sleep where he was, but on being told that the place they were going to was not far-off and that he would be able to rest longer and much more comfortably there than where he was, he braced himself up and accompanied them, leaning on Sam and Jim Slagg as he staggered along.

Need it be said that both Slagg and Stumps shouted with surprise when they came suddenly in sight of the garden; that they lost the power of utterance on beholding Robin holding familiar converse with an old hag, a blind man, and a small angel; and that they all but fell down on entering the pirate's cave?

No, it need not be said; let us pass, therefore, to the next scene in this amazing drama.

Of course Robin had prepared the inhabitants of the garden for the arrival of his friends. He had also learned that the pirates, in the hurry of departure, had not only left everything lying about, but had left the key of their treasure-cave in the lock. Old Meerta offered to show him the contents, but Robin determined to await the arrival of his friends before examining the place.

When Slagg and Stumps had breakfasted, and the sailor had been laid on a comfortable couch, where he immediately fell fast asleep, Robin pulled the key of the treasure-cave out of his pocket and asked his comrades to follow him. Wondering at the request, they did so.

The cave referred to lay at the inner extremity of the banqueting cavern, and was guarded by a massive door of wood. Opening this, Robin allowed the old woman to enter first and lead the way. She did so with one of her wild "ho! ho's!" being obviously much excited at the opportunity of showing to the visitors the contents of a cavern which she had never before been permitted to enter, save in the company of the pirates. Entering the small doorway, through which only a subdued light penetrated, she went to a ledge or natural shelf of rock and took down a silver lamp of beautiful workmanship, which had probably belonged to a church or temple. Lighting it, she ushered them through a natural archway into an inner cavern, round the walls of which were heaped in piles merchandise and wealth of all kinds in great profusion and variety. There were bales of broadcloth and other fabrics from the looms of Tuscany; tweeds from the factories of Scotland; silks, satins and velvets in great rolls, mingled with lace, linen, and more delicate fabrics. Close beside these piles, but not mixed with them, were boxes of cutlery and other hardware, and, further on, chests of drawers containing spices from the East, chests of tea and coffee, barrels of sugar, and groceries of all kinds.

These things were not thrown together in confusion, but arranged in systematic order, as if under the management of an expert store-keeper, and a desk with business-books on it seemed to indicate that a careful record was kept of the whole.

Among the miscellaneous merchandise stood several large and massive chests of ancient material and antique form. Taking a bunch of small keys from a nail on the wall, the old woman proceeded to open these and exhibit their contents with much of the interest and simple delight exhibited by a child in displaying her treasures to new companions.

Handing the silver lamp to Robin, who with his comrades looked on in silent surprise, she opened the first chest. It was loaded to the lid with jewellery of all kinds, which sparkled in the light with dazzling brilliancy, for even to the inexperienced eyes of the observers, many of the gems were obviously of the finest quality, and almost priceless in value. There was no order in the arrangement of these—bracelets, ear-rings, watches, etcetera, of European manufacture lying side by side with the costly golden wreaths and tiaras of India, and the more massive and gorgeous brooches, nose-rings, neck-rings, and anklets peculiar to semi-barbaric lands.

The next chest was filled with gold, silver, and bronze drinking-cups and goblets, lamps, vases, and urns, that had been gathered from the ships of many countries. Then there were chests which contained little barrels full of gold and silver coin of every realm, from the huge golden doubloon of Spain to the little silver groschen of Germany. Besides all this varied wealth, there were piles of arms of all nations—richly chased scimitars of Eastern manufacture, the clumsy cutlasses of England, long silver-handled pistols of Oriental form, bluff little "bull-dog" revolvers, cavalry sabres, breech-loading rifles, flint-lock muskets, shields, spears, bows and arrows—in short, a miscellaneous armoury much too extensive to be described.

It was interesting to observe the monkey-like countenance of old Meerta as she watched the effect produced on her visitors, her little black eyes sparkling in the lamp-light more brightly than the finest gems there; and not less interesting was it to note the half-amused, more than half-amazed, and partially imbecile gaze of the still silent visitors. Little Letta enjoyed their looks quite as much as Meerta.

"Haven't we got lots of pretty things here?" she said, looking up into Robin's face.

"Yes, little one,—wonderful!"

Robin revived sufficiently to make this reply and to glance at Sam, Slagg, and Stumps, who returned the glance. Then he relapsed.

Snatching the lamp from his hand, old Meerta now led the party to a remote corner of the cave, where a number of large casks were ranged at one end, and covered with a sheet of leather.

"Ha! ha!" laughed their wild guide, in a sort of screech, "here be de grandest jools, de finest dimunds of all, what buys all de rest!"

She lifted a corner of the skin, removed the loose head of a cask, and holding the lamp close over the opening, bade them look in. They did so, and the effect was powerful as well as instantaneous, for there, only a few inches below the flaring light, lay an open barrel of gunpowder!

The senses of Sam Shipton returned like a flash of lightning—interest, surprise, admiration vanished like smoke, as he uttered a shout, and, with one hand seizing the wrist of the withered arm that held the lamp, with the other he hastily drew the leathern cover over the exposed powder and held it down.

"You old curmudgeon!" he cried; "here, Robin, take the lamp from her, and away with it into the outer cave."

Our hero promptly obeyed, while the other two, under an instinct of self-preservation, had already fled in the same direction, followed by a shrill and half-fiendish laugh from the old woman.

"Well, I never had such a narrow escape," said Sam, as he issued from the cave, still holding Meerta firmly, though not roughly, by the wrist.

"Why, there's enough powder there, I do believe," said Jim Slagg, "to split the whole island in two."

"There, it's all safe now," said Sam, as he locked the heavy door and thrust the key in his pocket; "and I will take care of your treasures for you in future, old lady."

"Wass you frighted?" asked the old woman with a low laugh, in which even Letta joined.

"Frighted, you reckless old thing," replied Sam, seizing a tankard of water and draining it, "of course I was; if a spark had gone down into that cask, you would have been considerably frighted too."

"I'm not so sure of that," said Stumps; "she wouldn't have had time to get a fright."

"O no!" said Meerta; "I's niver frighted. Many time me stan' by dat keg, t'inkin', t'inkin', t'inkin' if me stuff de light in it, and blow de pyrits vid all dere tings to 'warsl smash; but no—me tinks dat some of dem wasn't all so bad as each oder."

This thought seemed to have the effect of quieting the roused spirit of the poor old woman, for thereafter a softened expression overspread her wrinkled face as she went silently about clearing away the debris of the recent feast.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE PIRATE'S ISLAND—CONTINUED.

Next morning Sam Shipton awoke from a sound and dreamless slumber. Raising himself on the soft ottoman, or Eastern couch, on which he had spent the night, he looked round in a state of sleepy wonder, unable at first to remember where he was. Gradually he recalled the circumstances and events of the preceding day.

The forms of his companions lay on couches similar to his own in attitudes of repose, and the seaman still slept profoundly in the position in which he had been laid down when brought in.

Through the mouth of the cavern Sam could see the little garden, glowing like an emerald in the beams of the rising sun, and amongst the bushes he observed the old couple stooping quietly over their labour of gathering weeds. The warm air, the bright sunshine, and the soft cries of distant sea-birds, induced Sam to slip into such of his garments as he had put off, and go out quietly without rousing his companions.

In a few minutes he stood on the summit of the islet and saw the wide ocean surrounding him, like a vast sparkling plain, its myriad wavelets reflecting now the dazzling sun, now the azure vault, the commingling yellow and blue of which resulted in a lovely transparent green, save where a few puffs of wind swept over the great expanse and streaked it with lines of darkest blue.

"Truly," murmured Sam, as he gazed in admiration at the glorious expanse of sea and sky, "Robin is right when he says that we are not half sufficiently impressed with the goodness of the Almighty in placing us in the midst of such a splendid world, with capacity to appreciate and enjoy it to the full. I begin to fear that I am a more ungrateful fellow than I've been used to think."

For some time he continued to gaze in silence as if that thought were working.

From his elevated position he could now see that the islet was not quite so barren as at first he had been led to suppose. Several little valleys and cup-like hollows lay nestling among the otherwise barren hills, like lovely gems in a rough setting. Those, he now perceived, must have been invisible from the sea, and the rugged, almost perpendicular, cliffs in their neighbourhood had apparently prevented men from landing and discovering their existence. One of the valleys, in particular, was not only larger than the others, but exceptionally rich in vegetation, besides having a miniature lake, like a diamond, in its bosom.

Descending the hill and returning to the cave, Sam found his comrades still asleep. Letta was assisting old Meerta in the preparation of a substantial breakfast that would not have done discredit to a first-class hotel.

"Oh, I'm so glad you've come!" said Letta, running up, to him and giving him both hands to shake, and a ready little mouth to kiss, "for I didn't like to awaken your friends, and the sailor one looks so still that I fear he may be dying. I saw one of the naughty men die here, and he looked just like that."

Somewhat alarmed by this, Sam went at once to the sailor and looked earnestly at him.

"No fear, Letta," he said, "the poor fellow is not dying; he is only in a very profound sleep, having been much exhausted and nearly killed yesterday. Hallo, Robin! awake at last?"

Robin, who had been roused by the voices, rubbed his eyes, yawned vociferously, and looked vacantly round.

"Well, now, that's most extraordinary; it isn't a dream after all!"

"It's an uncommon pleasant dream, if it is one," remarked Jim Slagg, with a grave stare at Robin, as he sat up on his couch. "I never in all my born days dreamt such a sweet smell of coffee and fried sausages. Why, the old 'ooman's a-bringin' of 'em in, I do declare. Pinch me, Stumps, to see if I'm awake!"

As Stumps was still asleep, Slagg himself resorted to the method referred to, and roused his comrade. In a few minutes they were all seated at breakfast with the exception of the sailor, whom it was thought best to leave to his repose until nature should whisper in his ear.

"Well now," said Slagg, pausing to rest for a few seconds, "if we had a submarine cable 'tween this and England, and we was to give 'em an account of all we've seen an' bin doin', they'd never believe it."

"Cer'nly not. They'd say it wos all a passel o' lies," remarked Stumps; "but I say, Mr Sam—"

"Come now, Stumps, don't 'Mister' me any more."

"Well, I won't do it any more, though 'tain't easy to change one's 'abits. But how is it, sir, that that there electricity works? That's what I wants to know. Does the words run along the cable,—or 'ow?"

"Of course they do, Stumpy," interrupted Slagg, "they run along the cable like a lot o' little tightrope dancers, an' when they come to the end o't they jumps off an' ranges 'temselves in a row. Sometimes, in coorse, they spells wrong, like bad schoolboys, and then they've to be walloped an' set right."

"Hold your noise, Slagg, an' let your betters speak," returned Stumps.

"Well, if they don't exactly do that," said Sam Shipton, "there are people who think they can do things even more difficult. I remember once, when I was clerk at a country railroad station and had to work the telegraph, an old woman came into the ticket office in a state of wild despair. She was about the size and shape of Meerta there, but with about an inch and a half more nose, and two or three ounces less brain.

"'What's wrong, madam?' I asked, feeling quite sorry for the poor old thing.

"'Oh! sir,' said she, clasping her hands, 'I've bin an' left my passel,—a brown paper one it was,—on the seat at the last station, an' there was a babby's muffler in it—the sweetest thing as ever was—an' f-fi' pun t-ten, on'y one sh-shillin' was b-bad—boo-hoo!'

"She broke down entirely at this point, so, said I, 'Madam, make your mind quite easy, sit down, and I'll telegraph at once,' so I telegraphed, and got a reply back immediately that the parcel had been found all right, and would be sent on as soon as possible. I told this to the old lady, who seemed quite pleased, and went on to the platform to wait.

"I was pretty busy for the next quarter of an hour, for it was market day at the next town, but I noticed through the window that the old lady was standing on the platform, gazing steadily up at the sky.

"'Broxley—third class,' said a big farmer at that moment, with a head like one of his own turnips.

"I gave him his ticket, and for five minutes more I was kept pretty busy, when up came the train; in got the struggling crowd; whew! went the whistle, and away went the whole affair, leaving no one on the platform but the porter, and the old woman still staring up at the sky.

"'What's the matter, madam?' I asked.

"'Matter!' she exclaimed, 'a pretty telegraph yours is to be sure! wuss than the old carrier by a long way. Here 'ave I bin standin' for full 'alf-an-hour with my neck nigh broke, and there's no sign of it yet.'

"'No sign of what, madam?'

"'Of my brown paper passel, to be sure. Didn't you tell me, young man, that they said they'd send it by telegraph as soon as possible?'

"'No, madam,' I replied, 'I told you they had telegraphed to say they would send it on as soon as possible—meaning, of course, by rail, for we have not yet discovered the method of sending parcels by telegraph— though, no doubt, we shall in course of time. If you'll give me your address I'll send the parcel to you.'

"'Thank you, young man. Do,' she said, giving me an old envelope with her name on it. 'Be sure you do. I don't mind the money much, but I couldn't a-bear to lose that muffler. It was such a sweet thing, turned up with yaller, and a present too, which it isn't many of 'em comes my way.'

"So you see, Stumps, some people have queer notions about the powers of the telegraph."

"But did the old lady get the parcel all right?" asked Stumps, who was a sympathetic soul.

"Of course she did, and came over to the station next day to thank me, and offer me the bad shilling by way of reward. Of course I declined it with many expressions of gratitude."

While they were thus adding intellectual sauce to the material feast of breakfast, the rescued sailor awoke from his prolonged sleep, and stretched himself.

He was a huge, thick-set man, with a benign expression of countenance, but that phase of his character was somewhat concealed at the time by two black eyes, a swollen nose, a cut lip, and a torn cheek. Poor fellow, he had suffered severely at the hands of the pirates, and suddenly checked the stretch in which he was indulging with a sharp groan, or growl, as he sat up and pressed his hand to his side.

"Why, what's the matter with me, an' where am I?" he exclaimed, gazing round the cave, while a look of wonder gradually displaced the expression of pain.

"You're all right—rescued from the pirates at all events," answered Sam Shipton, rising from table and sitting down beside the seaman's couch.

"Thank God for that!" said the man earnestly, though with a troubled look; "but how did I escape—where are the rascals?—what—"

"There, now, don't excite yourself, my man; you're not quite yourself in body. Come, let me feel your pulse. Ah, slightly feverish—no wonder— I'll tell you all about it soon, but at present you must be content merely to know that you are safe in the hands of friends, that you are in the pirates' cave, and that the pirates and their vessel are now at the bottom of the sea."

"That's hardly c'rect, Mr Shipton," murmured Slagg; "I would have said they was blow'd to hatoms."

The seaman turned and looked at the speaker with what would have been a twinkle if his swelled visage would have permitted, but the effort produced another spasm of pain.

"I must examine you, friend," said Sam; "you have been severely handled. Help me to strip him, Robin."

The poor man at once submitted.

"You're a doctor, sir, I suppose?" he asked.

"No," said Sam, "only an amateur; nevertheless I know what I'm about. You see, I think that every man in the world, whatever his station or profession, should be at least slightly acquainted with every subject under the sun, in connection with which he may be called on to act. In other words, he should know at least a little about surgery, and physic, and law, and carpentering, blacksmithing, building, cooking, riding, swimming, and—hallo! why, two of your ribs are broken, my man!"

"Sorry to hear it, sir, but not surprised, for I feels as if two or three o' my spines was broken also, and five or six o' my lungs bu'sted. You won't be able to mend 'em, I fear."

"Oh, yes, I shall," said Sam cheerily.

"Ah! that's well. I'd thowt that p'r'aps you wouldn't have the tools 'andy in these parts for splicin' of 'em."

"Fortunately no tools are required," returned Sam. "I'll soon put you right, but you'll have to lie still for some time. Here, Robin, go into the store-cave and fetch me a few yards of that white cotton, you remember, near the door. And, I say, mind you keep well clear of the powder."

When the cotton was brought, Sam tore it up into long strips, which he wound somewhat tightly round the sailor's huge chest.

"You see," he observed, as he applied the bandages, "broken ribs are not necessarily displaced, but the action of breathing separates the ends of them continually, so that they can't get a chance of re-uniting. All we have to do, therefore, is to prevent your taking a full breath, and this is accomplished by tying you up tight—so. Now, you can't breathe fully even if you would, and I'd recommend you not to try. By the way—what's your name?"

"Johnson, sir,—John Johnson."

"Well, Johnson, I'll give you something to eat and drink now, after which you'll have another sleep. To-morrow we'll have a chat on things in general."

"I say," asked Robin that night, as he and Sam stood star-gazing together beside a small fire which had been kindled outside the cavern-mouth for cooking purposes, "is it true that you have studied all the subjects you mentioned to Johnson this morning?"

"Quite true. I have not indeed studied them long or profoundly, but I have acquired sufficient knowledge of each to enable me to take intelligent action, as I did this morning, instead of standing helplessly by, or, what might be worse, making a blind attempt to do something on the chance that it might be the right thing, as once happened to myself when a bungling ignoramus gave me a glass of brandy to cure what he called mulligrumps, but what in truth turned out to be inflammation."

"But what think you of the saying that 'a little knowledge is a dangerous thing,' Sam."

"I think that, like most of the world's maxims, it is only partially, or relatively, true. If Little Knowledge claims the position and attempts to act the part of Great Knowledge, it becomes dangerous indeed; but if Little Knowledge walks modestly, and only takes action when none but Ignorance stands by, it is, in my opinion, neither dangerous nor liable to be destructive."

While they were speaking, little Letta came out of the cavern and ran towards them.

"It is like a dream of the Arabian Nights to meet such a little angel here," murmured Robin; "what a dreadful blow the loss of her must have been to her poor mother!"

"O! come to Johnson, please," she said, taking Sam by the hand with a very trustful look and manner.

"Why; he's not worse, is he?"

"O no! he has just awakened, and says he is very much better, and so peckish. What does he mean by that?"

"Peckish, my dear, is hungry," explained Robin, as they went into the cave together.

They found that Johnson was not only peckish but curious, and thirsting for information as well as meat and drink. As his pulse was pronounced by Dr Shipton to be all right, he was gratified with a hearty supper, a long pull at the tankard of sparkling water, and a good deal of information and small-talk about the pirates, the wreck of the Triton, and the science of electricity.

"But you have not told us yet," said Sam, "how it was that you came to fail into the hands of the pirates."

"I can soon tell 'ee that," said the seaman, turning slowly on his couch.

"Lie still, now, you must not move," said Sam, remonstratively.

"But that not movin', doctor, is wuss than downright pain, by a long way. Hows'ever, I s'pose I must obey orders—anyhow you've got the whip hand o' me just now. Well, as I was sayin', the yarn ain't a long 'un. I sailed from the port o' Lun'on in a tea-clipper, of which I was the cook; got out to Hong-Kong all right, shipped a cargo, and off again for old England. We hadn't got far when a most horrible gale blew us far out of our course. When it fell calm, soon arter, we was boarded by a pirate. Our captain fought like a hero, but it warn't of no use. They was too many for us; most of my shipmates was killed, and I was knocked flat on the deck from behind with a hand-spike. On recoverin', I found myself in the ship's hold, bound hand and futt, among a lot of unfortunits like myself, most of 'em bein' Chinese and Malays. The reptiles untied my hands and set me to an oar. They thrashed us all unmercifully to make us work hard, and killed the weak ones to be rid of 'em. At last we came to an anchor, as I knew by the rattlin' o' the cables, though, bein' below, I couldn't see where we was. Then I heard the boats got out, an' all the crew went ashore, as I guessed, except the guard left to watch us.

"That night I dreamed a deal about bein' free, an' about former voyages—specially one when I was wrecked in the Atlantic, an' our good ship, the Seahorse, went down in latitude—"

"The Seahorse!" echoed Robin, with an earnest look at the sailor; "was she an emigrant ship?"

"Ay, that's just what she was."

"Was she lost in the year 1850?" continued Robin, with increasing excitement.

"Jus' so, my lad."

"And you were cook?"

"You've hit the nail fair on the head," replied the sailor, with a look of surprise.

"Well, now, that is most remarkable," said Robin, "for I was born on board of that very ship."

"You don't mean it," said Johnson, looking eagerly at our hero. "Was you really the babby as was born to that poor miserable sea-sick gentleman, Mr Wright—you'll excuse my sayin' so—in the middle of a thunder-clap an' a flash o' lightnin' as would have split our main-mast an' sent us to the bottom, along wi' the ship, if it hadn't bin for the noo lightnin' conductor that Mr Harris, the inventor, indooced our skipper to put up!"

"Yes, I am that very baby," said Robin, "and although, of course, I remember nothing about the thunder and lightning, or anything else. My father and mother have often told me all about it, and the wonderful deliverance which God mercifully sent when all hope had been given up. And many a time did they speak of you, Johnson, as a right good fellow and a splendid cook."

"Much obleedged to 'em," said Johnson, "an' are they both alive?"

"They were both alive and well when I left England."

"Come now, this is pleasant, to meet an old shipmate in such pecooliar circumstances," said the sailor, extending his hand, which Robin shook warmly; "quite as good as a play, ain't it?"

"Ay," observed Jim Slagg, who with the others had witnessed this meeting with deep interest, "an' the babby has kep' the lighten' goin' ever since, though he's dropped the thunder, for he's an electrician no less—a manufacturer of lightnin' an' a director of it too."

The sailor wass good deal puzzled by this remark, but when its purport was explained to him, he gave vent to a vigorous chuckle, notwithstanding Sam's stern order to "lie still."

"Didn't I say so?" he exclaimed. "Didn't I say distinctly, that night, to the stooard—Thomson was his name—'Stooard,' said I, 'that there babby what has just bin born will make his mark some'ow an' somew'eres.'"

"Well, but I have not made my mark yet," said Robin, laughing, "so you're not a true prophet, at least time has not yet proved your title."

"Not yet proved it!" cried Johnson with vehemence, "why, how much proof do you want? Here you are, not much more than a babby yet—any'ow hardly a man—and, besides havin' bin born in thunder, lightnin', wind, an' rain, you've laid the Atlantic Cable, you've took up lightnin' as a profession—or a plaything,—you've helped to save the life of John Johnson, an' you've got comfortably located in a pirate's island! If you on'y go on as you've begun, you'll make your mark so deep that it'll never be rubbed out to the end of time. A prophet, indeed! Why, I'm shuperior to Mahomet, an' beat Nebuchadnezzar all to sticks."

"But you haven't finished your story, Johnson," said Jim Slagg.

"That's true—where was I? Ah, dreamin' in the hold of the pirate-ship. Well, I woke up with a start all of a suddent, bent on doin' suthin', I scarce knew what, but I wriggled away at the rope that bound me till I got my hands free; then I freed my legs; then I loosed some o' the boldest fellows among the slaves, and got handspikes and bits o' wood to arm 'em with. They was clever enough to understand signs, an' I couldn't speak to 'em, not knowin' their lingo, but I signed to 'em to keep quiet as mice. Then I crep' to the powder-magazine, which the reckless reptiles fastened very carelessly, and got a bit paper and made a slow match by rubbin' some wet powder on it, and laid it all handy, for I was determined to escape and put an end to their doin's all at once. My plan was to attack and overpower the guard, free and arm all the slaves, blow up the ship, escape on shore, an' have a pitched battle with the pirate crew. Unfortunately there was a white-livered traitor among us—a sort o' half-an'-half slave—very likely he was a spy. Anyhow, when he saw what I was about, he slipped over the side and swam quietly ashore. Why he didn't alarm the guards I don't know—p'r'aps he thought we might be too many for 'em, and that if we conquered he stood but a small chance. Anyhow he escaped the sharks, and warned the crew in good time, for we was in the very middle of the scrimmage when they suddintly turned up, as you saw, an' got the better of us. Hows'ever I managed to bolt below and fire the slow match, before they saw what I was after. Then I turned and fought my way on deck again, so that they didn't find out. And when they was about to throw me overboard, the thought of the surprise in store for 'em indooced me to give vent to a hearty cheer. It warn't a right state o' mind, I confess, and I was properly punished, for, instead o' killin' me off quick an' comfortable, they tied me hand and futt, took me below, an' laid me not two yards from the slowly burnin' match. I felt raither unhappy, I assure you; an' the reptiles never noticed the match because o' the smoke o' the scrimmage. I do believe it was being so near it as saved me, for when the crash came, I was lifted bodily wi' the planks on which I lay, and, comin' down from the sky, as it appeared to me, I went clean into the sea without damage, except the breakin' o' one o' the ropes, which, fortunately, set my right arm free."

"Come now, Johnson, you must go to sleep after that," said Sam. "You're exciting yourself too much; remember that I am your doctor, and obedience is the first law of nature—when one is out of health."

"Very good, sir," returned the seaman; "but before I turn over Mr Wright must read me a few verses out o' that bible his mother gave him."

"Why, how do you know that my mother gave me a bible?" asked Robin in great surprise.

"Didn't I know your mother?" replied the sailor with a flush of enthusiasm; "an' don't I know that she would sooner have let you go to sea without her blessing than without the Word of God? She was the first human bein' as ever spoke to me about my miserable soul, and the love of God in sendin' His Son to save it. Many a one has asked me about my health, and warned me to fly from drink, and offered to help me on in life, but she was the first that ever asked after my soul, or tried to impress on me that Eternity and its affairs were of more importance than Time. I didn't say much at the time, but the seed that your mother planted nigh twenty years ago has bin watered, thank God an' kep' alive ever since."

There was a tone of seriousness and gratitude in this off-hand seaman's manner, while speaking of his mother, which touched Robin deeply. Without a moment's hesitation he pulled out his bible and read a chapter in the Gospel of John.

"Now you'll pray," said the sailor, to Robin's surprise and embarrassment, for he had never prayed in public before, though accustomed from a child to make known his wants to God night and morning.

But our hero was morally as well as physically courageous—as every hero should be! He knelt at once by the sailor's couch, while the others followed his example, and, in a few simple sentences, asked for pardon, blessing, help, and guidance in the name of Jesus Christ.

Thus peculiarly was bible-reading and family worship established on the pirates' island in the year eighteen hundred and sixty-eight.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

AN EXPLORATION AND AN ACCIDENT.

For the first few days of their stay on what they styled Pirate Island, our castaways were too much taken up with the wondrous and varied contents of the robbers' cave, and the information Meerta and Letta had to give, to pay much regard to the island itself, or the prospect they had of quitting it. But when their interest and curiosity began to abate, and the excitement to decrease, they naturally bethought them of the nature and resources of their now home.

Of course they did not for a moment regard it in the light of home. It was merely a resting-place,—a refuge, where, after their escape from the sea, they should spend a few weeks, perhaps months, until a passing vessel should take them off. They did not know, at that time, that the islet was far removed from the usual track of ships, and that, like the Pitcairn Islanders, they might be doomed to spend many years, perchance a lifetime, on it. Indeed, a considerable time elapsed before they would admit to themselves that there was a possibility of such a fate, although they knew, both from Meerta and Letta, that no ship of any kind, save that of the pirates, had been seen for the last eighteen months, and the few sails that did chance to appear, were merely seen for a few hours like sea-gulls on the horizon, from which they arose and into which they vanished.

Having then, as we have said, bethought them of examining the resources and nature of the island, they one morning organised an expedition. By that time the sailor, although by no means fit for it, insisted that he was sufficiently restored to accompany them. Letta, who was active and strong like a small gazelle, besides being acquainted with the whole region, agreed to act as guide. Stumps, having sprained his ankle slightly, remained at the cave, for the purpose, as he said, of helping Meerta with the garden, but Jim Slagg gave him credit for laziness.

"You see," said Sam Shipton, as Letta led them down the rugged mountain-side, "we may as well make ourselves comfortable while we remain here, and I'm inclined to think that a hut, however rough, down in one of these charming valleys, will be more agreeable than the gloomy cavern on the mountain-top."

"Not so sure o' that, doctor," said Johnson; "the cave is at all events dry, and a good stronghold in case of a visit from pirates."

"But pirates what have bin blow'd to atoms," said Slagg, "ain't likely to turn up again, are they?"

"That's so, lad; but some of their friends might pay us a visit, you know."

"I think not," rejoined Sam; "there is honour among thieves here, no doubt, as elsewhere. I daresay it is well-known among the fraternity that the island belongs to a certain set, and the rest will therefore let it alone. What think you, Robin?"

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Sam, but perhaps Letta is the best authority on that point. Did you ever see any other set of pirates land here, little one, except your—your own set?"

"Only once," answered the child, "another set came, but they only stayed one day. They looked at everything, looked at me an' Meerta an' laughed very much. An' they ate and drank a good deal, and fought a little; but they took nothing away, and never came back."

"I thought so," rejoined Sam; "now, all we've got to do is to hoist a flag on the highest peak of the mountain, and when a vessel comes to take us off, load her with as much of the booty as she can carry—and then, hurrah for old England!"

"Hooray!" echoed Jim Slagg, "them's exactly my sentiments."

"But the booty is not ours to take," objected Robin.

"Whose is it, then?" asked Sam; "the rightful owners we don't know, and the wrongful owners are defunct."

"I tell 'ee what it is, mates," said Johnson, "the whole o' the booty is mine, 'cause why? it was me as blowed up the owners, so I'm entitled to it by conquest, an' you needn't go to fightin' over it. If you behave yourselves, I'll divide it equally among us, share an' share alike."

"It seems to me, Johnson," said Robin, "that in strict justice the booty belongs to Letta, Meerta, and blind Bungo, as the natural heirs o' the pirates."

"But they're not the heirs, they are part of the booty," said the seaman, "and, as sitch, falls to be divided among us."

"If that's so," said Slagg, "then I claim Letta for my share, and you, Johnson, can have your pick of Meerta and blind Bungo."

"Nay, Letta is mine, because I was the first to discover her," said Robin. "Whom will you go with, Letta?"

"With you, of course," replied the child quite earnestly. "Haven't you promised to take me back to mamma?"

"Indeed I have, little one, and if I ever get the chance, assuredly I will," said Robin, with equal earnestness.

"I say, doctor," said Johnson to Sam, sitting down on a mossy bank, "I'll stop here and wait for you. That rib ain't all square yet."

"Wilful man," said Sam, "didn't I advise you not to come? There, lie down and take it easy. We'll bring you some fruit on our return."

By this time the party had reached the valley in which the lakelet lay, and beautiful indeed was the scene which presented itself as they passed under the grateful shade of the palm-trees. Everywhere, rich tropical vegetation met their gaze, through the openings in which the sunshine poured like streams of fire. On the little lake numerous flocks of ducks and other fowl were seen swimming in sportive mood, while an occasional splash told of fish of some sort below the surface.

Leaving the sailor in a position whence he could observe them for a long distance, the rest of the party pushed on. During their rambles they found the valley to be much richer in vegetation, and more beautiful, than the distant view from the mountain-top had led them to expect. Small though the valley was, it contained, among other trees, the cocoa-nut palm, the bread-fruit, banana, and sandal-wood. There were also pine-apples, wild rice, and custard-apples, some of which latter delicious fruit, being ripe, was gathered and carried back to Johnson, whom they found sound asleep and much refreshed on their return.

The expedition proved that, barren though the island appeared from the sea, it contained quite enough of the good things of this life to render it a desirable abode for man.

On the coast, too, where the raft had been cast ashore, were discovered a variety of shell-fish, some of which, especially the oysters, were found to be excellent food. And some of the sea-fowl turned out to be very good eating, though a little fishy, while their eggs were as good as those of the domestic fowl.

"It seems to me," said Robin to Letta one day when they were out on a ramble together, "that this is quite a little paradise."

"I don't know what paradise is like," said the child.

"Well, no more do I," returned Robin, with a laugh, "but of course everybody understands that it is the place where everything is perfect, and where happiness is complete."

"It cannot be like paradise without mamma," said Letta, shaking her pretty head sadly. "I would not go to heaven unless mamma was there."

Robin was silent for some time, as he thought of his own mother and the talks he used to have with her on this same subject.

"Letta," he said at length, earnestly, "Jesus will be in heaven. It was His Spirit who taught you to love mamma—as you do, so you are sure to meet her there with Him."

"Nobody taught me to love mamma," returned the child quietly; "I couldn't help it."

"True, little one, but it was God who made you to—'couldn't help it.'"

Letta was puzzled by this reply. She raised her bright eyes inquiringly into Robin's honest face, and said, "But you've promised to take me to her, you know."

"Yes, dear little one, but you must not misunderstand me," replied the youth somewhat sadly. "I promise that, God helping me, I will do the best I can to find out where your mother is; but you must remember that I have very little to go on. I don't even know your mother's name, or the place where you were taken from. By the way, an idea has just occurred to me. Have you any clothes at the cave?"

"Of course I have," answered Letta, with a merry laugh.

"Yes; but I mean the clothes that you had on when you first came here."

"I don't know; Meerta knows. Why?"

"Because your name may be marked on them. Come, let us go back at once and see. Besides, we are wasting time, for you know I was sent out to shoot some ducks for dinner."

Rising as he spoke, Robin shouldered the shotgun which had been supplied from the robbers' armoury, and, descending with his little companion towards the lake, soon began to stalk the birds as carefully as if he had been trained to the work by a Red Indian. Stooping low, he glided swiftly through the bushes, until he came within a hundred yards of the margin of the lakelet, where a group of some thirty or forty fat ducks were feeding. Letta had fallen behind, and sat down to watch.

The distance being too great for a shot, and the bushes beyond the spot which he had reached being too thin to conceal him, Robin lay flat down, and began to advance through the long grass after the fashion of a snake, pushing his gun before him. It was a slow and tedious process, but Robin's spirit was patient and persevering. He screwed himself, as it were, to within sixty yards of the flock, and then fired both barrels almost simultaneously. Seven dead birds remained behind when the affrighted flock took wing.

"It is not very scientific shooting," said Robin, apologetically, to his fair companion, as she assisted him to tie their legs together; "but our object just now is food, not sport."

On the way back to the cavern they had to pass over a narrow ledge, on one side of which a precipice descended towards the valley, while the other side rose upwards like a wall. It was not necessarily a dangerous place. They had passed it often before in safety, none of the party being troubled with giddiness; but at this time Robin had unfortunately hung his bundle of ducks on the side which had to brush past the rocky wall. As he passed, the bunch struck a projection and threw him off his balance. In the effort to recover himself he dislodged a piece of rock under his left foot, and, without even a cry, went headlong over the precipice!

Poor Letta stood rooted to the spot, too horrified to scream. She saw her friend, on whom all her hopes were built, go crashing through the foliage immediately below the precipice edge, and disappear. It was the first terrible shock she had ever received. With a convulsive shudder she ran by a dangerously steep route towards the foot of the precipice.

But Robin had not yet met his doom, although he had descended full sixty feet. His fall was broken by several leafy trees, through which he went like an avalanche; and a thick solid bush receiving him at the foot, checked his descent entirely, and slid him quietly off its boughs on to the grass, where he lay, stunned, indeed, but otherwise uninjured.

Poor Letta of course was horrified, on reaching the spot, to find that Robin could not speak, and was to all appearance dead. In an agony of terror she shrieked, and shook him and called him by name—to awaken him, as she afterwards said; but Robin's sleep was too deep at that moment to be dispelled by such measures. Letta therefore sprang up and ran as fast as she could to the cavern to tell the terrible news and fetch assistance.

Robin, however, was not left entirely alone in his extremity. It so chanced that a remarkably small monkey was seated among the boughs of a neighbouring tree, eating a morsel of fruit, when Letta's first scream sounded through the grove. Cocking up one ear, it arrested its little hand on the way to its lesser mouth, and listened. Its little black face was corrugated with the wrinkles of care—it might be of fun, we cannot tell. The only large features of the creature were its eyes, and these seemed to blaze, while the brows rose high, as if in surprise.

On hearing the second scream the small monkey laid hold of a bough with its tail, swung itself off, and caught another with its feet, sprang twenty feet, more or less, to the ground, which it reached on its hands, tumbled a somersault inadvertently, and went skipping over the ground at a great rate in the direction of the cries.

When it reached the spot, however, Letta had fled, but Robin still lay motionless on his back. It was evident that the small monkey looked on the prostrate youth with alarm and suspicion, yet with an intense curiosity that no sense of danger could restrain. It walked slowly and inquiringly round him several times, each time drawing closer, while its crouched back and trailing tail betokened abject humility. Then it ventured to put out a small black hand and touch him, drawing it back again as if it had got an electric shock. Then it ventured to touch him again, with less alarm. After that it went close up, and gazed in his face.

Familiarity, says the proverb, breeds contempt. The truth of proverbs can be verified by monkeys as well as men. Seeing that nothing came of its advances, that small monkey finally leaped on Robin's chest, sat down thereon, and stared into his open mouth. Still the youth moved not, whereupon the monkey advanced a little and laid its paw upon his nose! Either the touch was more effective than Letta's shaking, or time was bringing Robin round, for he felt his nose tickled, and gave way to a tremendous sneeze. It blew the monkey clean off its legs, and sent it shrieking into a neighbouring tree. As Robin still lay quiet, the monkey soon recovered, and returned to its former position, where, regardless of consequences, it again laid hold of the nose.

This time consciousness returned. Robin opened his eyes with a stare of dreamy astonishment. The monkey replied with a stare of indignant surprise. Robin's eyebrows rose still higher. So did those of the monkey as it leaped back a foot, and formed its mouth into a little O of remonstrance. Robin's mouth expanded; he burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, and the monkey was again on the eve of flight, when voices were heard approaching, and, next instant, Letta came running forward, followed at some distance by Sam and the others.

"Oh! my dear, sweet, exquisite darling!" exclaimed Letta.

It did much for the poor youth's recovery, the hearing himself addressed in such endearing terms, but he experienced a relapse when the monkey, responding to the endearments, ran with obvious joy into the child's bosom, and submitted to a warm embrace.

"Oh, you darling!" repeated Letta; "where have you been? why did you go away? I thought you were dead. Naughty thing!"

Recollecting Robin with a shock of self-reproach, she dropped the monkey and ran to him.

"It is an old friend, I see," he said with a languid smile, as she came up.

"Yes, yes; an old pet. I had lost him for a long time. But you're not killed? Oh! I'm so glad."

"Killed!" repeated Sam, who was down on his knees carefully examining the patient; "I should think not. He's not even bruised—only stunned a little. Where did you fall from, Robin—the tree top?"

"No; from the edge of the precipice."

"What! from the ledge sixty or seventy feet up there? Impossible! You would certainly have been killed if you had fallen from that."

"So I certainly should," returned Robin, "if God had not in his mercy grown trees and shrubs there, expressly, among other purposes, to save me."

In this reply Robin's mind was running on previous conversations which he had had with his friend on predestination.

The idea of shrubs and trees having been expressly grown on an island of the Southern Seas to save an English boy, seemed doubtful to Sam. He did not, however, express his doubts at the time, but reserved the subject for a future "theological discussion."

Meanwhile, Slagg, Stumps, and Johnson, having spread some palm branches on a couple of stout poles, laid our hero thereon, and bore him in safety to the pirates' cave, where, for several days, he lay on one of the luxurious couches, tenderly nursed by Letta and the old woman, who, although she still pathetically maintained that the "roberts an pyrits wasn't all so bad as each oder," was quite willing to admit that her present visitors were preferable, and that, upon the whole, she was rather fond of them.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

VARIOUS SUBJECTS TREATED OF, AND A GREAT FIGHT DETAILED.

It was the habit of Robin and his friends at this time, the weather being extremely fine and cool, to sit at the mouth of their cavern of an evening, chatting about the events of the day, or the prospects of the future, or the experiences of the past, while old Meerta busied herself preparing supper over a fire kindled on the ground.

No subject was avoided on these occasions, because the friends were harmoniously minded, in addition to which the sweet influences of mingled star-light and fire-light, soft air, and lovely prospect of land and sea—to say nothing of the prospect of supper—all tended to induce a peaceful and forbearing spirit.

"Well, now," said Robin, continuing a subject which often engaged their intellectual powers, "it seems to me simple enough."

"Simple!" exclaimed Johnson, with a half-sarcastic laugh, "w'y, now, you an' the doctor 'ave tried to worrit that electricity into my brain for many months, off an' on, and I do believe as I'm more muddled about it to-night than I was at the beginnin'."

"P'r'aps it's because you hain't got no brains to work upon," suggested Slagg.

"P'r'aps it is," humbly admitted the seaman. "But look here, now, doctor," he added, turning to Sam with his brow knotted up into an agony of mental endeavour, and the forefinger of one hand thrust into the palm of the other,—"look here. You tells me that electricity ain't a substance at all."

"Yes, that's so," assented Sam with a nod.

"Wery good. Now, then, if it ain't a substance at all, it's nothin'. An' if it's nothin', how can you go an' talk of it as somethin' an' give it a name, an' tell me it works the telegraph, an' does all manner of wonderful things?"

"But it does not follow that a thing must be nothing because it isn't a substance. Don't you see, man, that an idea is something, yet it is not a substance. Thought, which is so potent a factor in this world, is not a substance, yet it cannot be called nothing. It is a condition—it is the result of brain-atoms in action. Electricity is sometimes described as an 'invisible imponderable fluid,' but that is not quite correct, because a fluid is a substance. It is a better definition to say that electricity is a manifestation of energy—a result of substance in action."

"There, I'm muddled again!" said Johnson, with a look of hopeless incapacity.

"Small blame to you, Johnson," murmured Slagg who had done his best to understand, while Stumps sat gazing at the speakers with an expression of blank complacency.

"Look here, Johnson," said Sam, "you've often seen men shaking a carpet, haven't you?"

"In coorse I have."

"Well, have you not observed the waves of the carpet that roll along it when shaken!"

"Yes, I have."

"What are these waves?"

"Well, sir, I should say they was the carpet," replied Johnson.

"No, the waves are not the carpet. When the waves reach the end of the carpet they disappear. If the waves were the carpet, the carpet would disappear. The same waves in a whip, soft and undulating though they be, result in a loud crack, as you know."

"Muddled again," said Johnson.

"Ditto," said Slagg.

"Why, I'm not muddled a bit!" suddenly exclaimed Stumps, with a half-contemptuous laugh.

"Of coorse you're not," retorted Slagg. "Brainless things never git into that state. You never heard of a turnip bein' muddled, did you?"

Stumps became vacant, and Sam went on.

"Well, you see, the waves are not substance. They are a condition—a result of atoms in motion. Now, when the atoms of a substance are disturbed by friction, or by chemical action, they get into a state of violent commotion, and try wildly to fly from, or to, each other. This effort to fly about is energy. When the atoms get into a very intense state of commotion they have a tendency to induce explosion, unless a way of escape is found—escape for the energy, not for the atoms. Now, when you cause chemical disturbance in an electric battery, the energy thus evolved is called electricity, and we provide a conductor of escape for it in the shape of a copper or other metal wire, which we may carry to any distance we please, and the energy runs along it, as the wave runs along the carpet, as long as you keep up the commotion in the battery among the excited atoms of copper and zinc."

"Mud—no, not quite. I have got a glimmer o' su'thin'," said Johnson.

"Ditto," said Slagg.

"Supper," said old Meerta.

"Ha! that's the battery for me," cried Stumps, jumping up.

"Not a bad one either," said Robin, as they entered the cave; "alternate plates of beef and greens, steeped in some such acid as lemonade, cause a wonderful commotion in the atoms of the human body."

"True, Robin, and the energy thereby evolved," said Sam, "sometimes bursts forth in brilliant sparks of wit—to say nothing of flashes of absurdity."

"An' thunderin' stoopidity," added Slagg.

Further converse on the subject was checked at that time by what Sam termed the charging of the human batteries. The evening meal went on in silence and very pleasantly for some time, but before its close it was interrupted in an alarming manner by the sudden entrance of Letta with wild excitement in her eyes.

"Oh!" she cried, pointing back to the entrance of the cave, "a ship!— pirate-ship coming!"

A bombshell could scarcely have produced greater effect. Each individual leaped up and darted out, flushing deep red or turning pale, according to temperament. They were not long in verifying the statement. A ledge of rocks concealed the entrance to the cavern from the sea. Over its edge could be seen the harbour in which they had found the vessel whose total destruction has been described; and there, sure enough, they beheld a similar vessel, though considerably smaller, in the act of furling her sails and dropping anchor. There could be no doubt as to her character, for although too distant to admit of her crew being distinguished by star-light, her rig and general appearance betrayed her.

"Not a moment to be lost, Robin," said Sam Shipton hurriedly, as he led the way back to the tavern, where old Meerta and blind Bungo, aided by Letta, had already cleared away all evidence of the late feast, leaving only three tin cups and three pewter plates on the table, with viands appropriate thereto.

"Ha! you're a knowing old lady," exclaimed Sam, "you understand how to help us, I see."

"Me tink so!" replied Meerta, with an intelligent nod. "On'y us t'ree here. All de pyrits gone away. Dem sinners on'y come here for a feed— p'r'aps for leetil poodre. Soon go away."

"Just so," said Sam, "meanwhile we will hide, and return after they are gone, or, better still, if you, Letta, and Bungo will come and hide with us, I'll engage to lay a train of powder from the barrels inside to somewhere outside, and blow the reptiles and the whole mountain into the sea! There's powder enough to do it."

"You tink me one divl?" demanded the old woman indignantly. "No, some o' dem pyrits not so bad as each oder. You let 'em alone; me let you alone."

This gentle intimation that Meerta had their lives in her hand, induced Sam to ask modestly what she would have him do.

"Go," she replied promptly, "take rifles, swords, an' poodre. Hide till pyrits go 'way. If de finds you—fight. Better fight dan be skin alive!"

"Unquestionably," said Sam, with a mingled laugh and shudder, in which his companions joined—as regards the shudder at least, if not the laugh.

Acting promptly on the suggestion, Sam armed himself and his comrades each with a good breech-loading rifle, as much ammunition as he could conveniently carry, and an English sword. Then, descending the mountain on the side opposite to the harbour they disappeared in the dark and tangled underwood of the palm-grove. Letta went a short distance with them.