The Battery and the Boiler/part 1

 

IN WHICH THE HERO MAKES HIS FIRST FLASH AND EXPLOSION.

Somewhere about the middle of this nineteenth century, a baby boy was born on the raging sea in the midst of a howling tempest. That boy was the hero of this tale.

He was cradled in squalls, and nourished in squalor—a week of dirty weather having converted the fore-cabin of the emigrant ship into something like a pig-sty. Appreciating the situation, no doubt, the baby boy began his career with a squall that harmonised with the weather, and, as the steward remarked to the ship's cook, "continued for to squall straight on end all that day and night without so much as ever takin' breath!" It is but right to add that the steward was prone to exaggeration.

​"Stooard," said the ship's cook in reply, as he raised his eyes from the contemplation of his bubbling coppers, "take my word for it, that there babby what has just bin launched ain't agoin' to shovel off his mortal coil—as the play-actor said—without makin' his mark some'ow an' somew'eres."

"What makes you think so, Johnson?" asked the steward.

"What makes me think so, stooard?" replied the cook, who was a huge good-natured young man. "Well, I 'll tell 'ee. I was standin' close to the fore hatch at the time, a-talkin' to Jim Brag, an' the father o' the babby, poor feller, he was standin' by the foretops'l halyards holdin' on to a belayin'-pin, an' lookin' as white as a sheet—for I got a glance at 'im two or three times doorin' the flashes o' lightnin'. Well, stooard, there was lightnin' playin' round the mizzen truck, an' the main truck, an' the fore truck, an' at the end o' the flyin' jib-boom, an' the spanker boom; then there came a flash that seemed to set afire the entire univarse; then a burst o' thunder like fifty great guns gone off all at once in a hurry. At that identical moment, stooard, there came up from the fore-cabin a yell that beat—well, I can't rightly say what it beat, but it minded me o' that unfortnit pig as got his tail jammed in the capstan off Cape ​Horn. The father gave a gasp. 'It 's born,' says he. 'More like 's if it 's busted,' growled Jim Brag. 'You 're a unfeelin' monster, Brag,' says I; 'an' though you are the ship's carpenter, I will say it, you 'aven't got no more sympathy than the fluke of an anchor!' Hows'ever the poor father didn't hear the remark, for he went down below all of a heap—head, legs, and arms—anyhow. Then there came another yell, an' another, an' half a dozen more, which was followed by another flash o' lightnin' an' drownded in another roar o' thunder; but the yells from below kep' on, an' came out strong between times, makin' no account whatever o' the whistlin' wind an' rattlin' ropes, which they riz above—easy.—'Now, stooard, do you mean for to tell me that all that signifies nothink? Do you suppose that that babby could go through life like an or'nary babby? No, it couldn't—not even if it was to try—w'ich it won't!"

Having uttered this prophecy the cook resumed the contemplation of his bubbling coppers.

"Well, I suppose you're right, John Johnson," said the steward.

"Yes, I'm right, Tom Thomson," returned the cook, with the nod and air of a man who is never wrong.

And the cook was right, as the reader who continues to read shall find out in course of time.

​The gale in which little Robin Wright was thus launched upon the sea of Time blew the sails of that emigrant ship—the Seahorse—to ribbons. It also blew the masts out of her, leaving her a helpless wreck on the breast of the palpitating sea. Then it blew a friendly sail in sight, by which passengers and crew were rescued and carried safe back to Old England. There they separated—some to re-embark in other emigrant ships; some to renew the battle of life at home—thenceforward and for ever after to vilify the sea in all its aspects, except when viewed at a safe distance from the solid land!

Little Robin's parents were among the latter. His father, a poor gentleman, procured a situation as accountant in a mercantile house. His mother busied herself—and she was a very busy little creature—with the economics of home. She clothed Robin's body and stored his mind. Among other things, she early taught him to read from the Bible.

As Robin grew he waxed strong and bold and lively, becoming a source of much anxiety, mingled with delight, to his mother, and of considerable alarm, mixed with admiration and surprise, to his father. He possessed an inquisitive mind. He inquired into everything—including the antique barometer and the household clock, both of which were heirlooms, and were not improved by his ​inquiries. Strange to say, Robin's chief delight in those early days was a thunderstorm. The rolling of heaven's artillery seemed to afford inexpressible satisfaction to his little heart, but it was the lightning that affected him most. It filled him with a species of awful joy. No matter how it came—whether in the forked flashes of the storm, or the lambent gleamings of the summer sky—he would sit and gaze at it in solemn wonder. Even in his earliest years he began to make inquiries into that remarkable and mysterious agent.

"Musser," he said one day, during a thunderstorm, raising his large eyes to his mother's face with intense gravity,—"Musser, what is lightenin'?"

Mrs. Wright, who was a soft little unscientific lady with gorgeous eyes, sat before her son perplexed.

"Well, child, it is—it—really, I don't know what it is!"

"Don't know?" echoed Robin, with surprise, "I sought you know'd everysing."

"No, not everything, dear," replied Mrs. Wright, with a deprecatory smile; "but here comes your father, who will tell you."

"Does he know everysing?" asked the child.

"N—no, not exactly; but he knows many things—oh, ever so many things," answered the cautious wife and mother.

​The accountant had barely crossed his humble threshold and sat down, when Robin clambered on his knee and put the puzzling question—"Fasser, what is lightenin'?"

"Lightning, my boy?—why, it 's—it 's—let me see—it 's fire, of course, of some sort, that comes out o' the clouds and goes slap into the earth—there, don't you see it?"

Robin did see it, and was so awestruck by the crash which followed the blinding flash that he forgot at the moment to push his inquiries further, much to his father's satisfaction, who internally resolved to hunt up the Encyclopædia Britannica that very evening—letter L—and study it.

In process of time Robin increased in size. As he expanded in body he developed in mind and in heart, for his little mother, although profoundly ignorant of electricity and its effects, was deeply learned in the Scriptures. But Robin did not hunger in vain after scientific knowledge. By good fortune he had a cousin—cousin Sam Shipton—who was fourteen years older than himself, and a clerk at a neighbouring railway station, where there was a telegraphic instrument.

Now, Sam being himself possessed of strongly scientific tendencies, took a great fancy to little Robin, and sought to enlighten his young mind on many subjects where "musser's" knowledge failed. ​Of course he could not explain all that he himself knew about electricity—the child was too young for that,—but he did what he could, and introduced him one day to the interior of the station, where he filled his youthful mind with amazement and admiration by his rapid, and apparently meaningless, manipulation of the telegraph instrument.

Cousin Sam, however, did a good deal more for him than that in the course of time; but before proceeding further, we must turn aside for a few minutes to comment on that wonderful subject which is essentially connected with the development of this tale.

REFERS TO A NOTABLE CHARACTER.

Sparks, rule, are looked upon as a race of useless and disreputable fellows. Their course is usually erratic. They fly upward, downward, forward, and backward—here, there, and everywhere. You never know when you have them, or what will be their next flight. They often create a good deal of alarm, sometimes much surprise; they seldom do any good, and frequently cause irreparable damage. Only when caught and restrained, or directed, do sparks become harmless and helpful.

But there is one Spark in this world—a grand, glowing, gushing fellow—who has not his equal anywhere. He is old as the hills—perhaps older—and wide as the world—perchance wider. Similar to ordinary sparks in some respects, he differs from them in several important particulars. Like many, he is "fast," but immeasurably faster than all other sparks put together. Unlike them, however, he submits to be led by master minds. Stronger than ​Hercules, he can rend the mountains. Fleeter than Mercury, he can outstrip the light. Gentler than Zephyr, he can assume the condition of a current, and enter our very marrow without causing pain. His name is Electricity. No one knows what he is. Some philosophers have said that he is a fluid, because he flows. As well might they call him a wild horse because he bolts, or a thief because he lurks! We prefer to call him a Spark, because in that form only is he visible—at least when handled by man.

Talking of that, it was not until the last century that master minds found out how to catch and handle our Spark. In all the previous centuries he had been roaming gaily about the world in perfect freedom; sometimes gliding silently to and fro like an angel of light; sometimes leaping forth with frightful energy in the midst of raging tempest, like a destructive demon—ripping, rending, shattering all that attempted to arrest his course. Men have feared and shunned him since the beginning of time, and with good reason, for he has killed many of the human race.

But although uncaught and untamed by them, our Spark was not altogether unknown to the ancients. So far back as the year 600 before the Christian era, Thales, one of the Greek sages, discovered that he hid himself in amber, a substance which in Greek ​is named electron—hence his name Electricity; but the ancients knew little about his character, though Thales found that he could draw him from his hiding-place by rubbing him with silk and some other substances. When thus rubbed he became attractive, and drew light creatures towards him—not unlike human sparks! He also showed himself to be fickle, for, after holding these light creatures tight for a brief space, he let them go and repelled them.

It was not till the days of good Queen Bess, towards the end of the sixteenth century, that a Dr. Gilbert discovered that the wild fellow lay lurking in other substances besides amber—such as sulphur, wax, glass, etc. It is now known that Electricity permeates all substances more or less, and only waits to be roused in order to exhibit his amazing powers. He is fond of shocking people's feelings, and has surprised his pursuers rather frequently in that way. Some of them, indeed, he has actually shocked to death!

It would take a huge volume to give a detailed account of all the qualities, powers, and peculiarities of this wild Spark. We will just touch on a few facts which are necessary to the elucidation of our tale.

A great event in the world's history happened in the year 1745. It was nothing less than the ​capture and imprisonment of wild, daring, dashing Electricity. To the Dutch philosophers belongs the honour of catching him. They caught him—they even bottled him, like ordinary spirits, and called his prison a Leyden Jar.

From that date our Spark became the useful and obedient slave of man. Yet is he ever ready, when the smallest conceivable door, hole, or chink is left open, to dash out of the prison-house man has made for him, and escape into his native earth!

He has no hope now, however, of escaping altogether, for he cannot resist the allurement of rubbing, by which, as well as by chemical action and other means, we can summon him, like the genii of Aladdin's lamp, at any moment, from the "vasty deep," and compel him to do our work.

And what sort of work, it may be asked, can this volatile fellow perform? We cannot tell all—the list is too long. Let us consider a few of them. If we fabricate tea-pots, sugar-basins, spoons, or anything else of base metal, he can and will, at our bidding, cover the same with silver or yellow gold. If we grow dissatisfied with our candles and gas, he will, on being summoned and properly directed by the master minds to whom he owns allegiance, kindle our lamps and fill our streets and mansions with a blaze of noonday splendour. If we grow weary of steam, and give him orders, he will drive ​our tram-cars and locomotives with railway speed, minus railway smoke and fuss. He is a very giant in the chemist's laboratory, and, above all, a swift messenger to carry the world's news. Even when out and raging to and fro in a wild state, more than half-disposed to rend our mansions, and split our steeples, and wreck our ships, we have only to provide him with a tiny metal stair-case, down which he will instantly glide from the upper regions to the earth without noise or damage. Shakespeare never imagined, and Mercury never accomplished, the speed at which he travels; and he will not only carry our news or express our sentiments and wishes far and wide over the land, but he will rush with them, over rock, sand, mud, and ooze, along the bottom of the deep deep sea!

And this brings us to a point. Some of the master minds before mentioned, having conceived the idea that telegraphic communication might be carried on under water, set about experimenting. Between the years 1839 and 1851 enterprising men in the Old World and the New suggested, pondered, planned, and placed wires under water, along which our Spark ran more or less successfully.

One of the difficulties of these experiments consisted in this, that, while the Spark runs readily along one class of substances, he cannot, or will not, run along others. Substances of the first class, ​comprising the metals, are called conductors; those of the second class, embracing, among other things, all resinous substances, are styled non-conductors. Now, water is a good conductor. So that although the Spark will stick to his wires when insulated on telegraph-posts on land, he will bolt from them at once and take to flight the moment he gets under water. This difficulty was overcome by coating the wires with gutta-percha, which, being a non-conductor, imprisoned the Spark, and kept him, as it were, on the line.

A copper wire covered in this manner was successfully laid between England and France in 1860. When tested, this cable did not work well. Minute imperfections, in the form of air-holes in the gutta-percha, afforded our Spark an opportunity to bolt; and he did bolt, as a matter of course—for electricity has no sense of honour, and cannot be trusted near the smallest loop-hole. The imperfections were remedied; the door was effectually locked, after which the first submarine cable of importance was actually laid down, and worked well. French and English believers turned up hands and eyes in delighted amazement, as they held converse across the sea, while unbelievers were silenced and confounded.

This happy state of things, however, lasted for only a few hours. Suddenly the intercourse ceased. ​The telegraphists at both ends energised with their handles and needles, but without any result. The cable was dumb. Our Spark had evidently escaped!

There is no effect without a cause. The cause of that interruption was soon discovered.

Early that morning a French fisherman had sauntered down to the port of Boulogne and embarked in his boat. A British seaman, having nothing to do but smoke and meditate, was seated on a coil of rope at the time, enjoying himself and the smells with which that port is not unfamiliar. He chanced to be a friend of that French fisherman.

"You 're early afloat, Mounseer," he said.

"Oui, monsieur. Vill you com'? I go for feesh."

"Well, wee; I go for fun."

They went accordingly and bore away to the northward along the coast before a light breeze,—past the ruined towers which France had built to guard her port in days gone by; past the steep cliffs beyond Boulogne; past the lovely beach of Wimereux, with its cottages nestled among the sand-hills, and its silted-up harbour, whence Napoleon the First had intended to issue forth and descend on perfidious Albion—but didn't; past cliffs, and bays, and villages further on, until they brought up off Cape Grisnez. Here the Frenchman let down his trawl, and fished up, among other curiosities of the deep, the submarine cable!

​"Behold! fat is dis?" he exclaimed, with glaring eyes, uplifted brows, shoulders shrugged, hands spread out, and fingers expanded.

"The sea-sarpint grow'd thin," suggested the Englishman.

"Non; c'est seaveed—veed de most 'strordinair in de vorld. Oui, donnez-moi de hache, de hax, mon ami."

His friend handed him the axe, wherewith he cut off a small portion of the cable and let the end go. Little did that fisherman know that he had also let our Spark go free, and cruelly dashed, for a time at least, the budding hopes of two nations—but so it was. He bore his prize in triumph to Boulogne, where he exhibited it as a specimen of rare seaweed with its centre filled with gold, while the telegraph clerks at both ends sat gazing in dismay at their useless instruments.

Thus was the first submarine electric cable destroyed. And with the details of its destruction little Robin was intimately acquainted, for cousin Sam had been a member of the staff that had worked that telegraph—at least he had been a boy in the office,—and in after years he so filled his cousin's mind with the importance of that cable, and the grandeur and difficulty of the enterprise, that Robin became powerfully sympathetic—so much so that when Sam, in telling the story, came ​to the point where the Frenchman accomplished its destruction, Robin used to grieve over it as though he had lost a brother, or a kitten, or his latest toy!

We need scarcely add that submarine cable telegraphy had not received its death-blow on that occasion. Its possibility had been demonstrated. The very next year (1851) Mr. T. R. Crampton, with Messrs. Wollaston, Küper, and others, made and laid an improved cable between Dover and Calais, and ere long many other parts of the world were connected by means of snaky submarine electric cables.

EARLY ASPIRATIONS.

One pleasant summer afternoon, Mr. Wright, coming in from the office, seated himself beside his composed little wife, who was patching a pair of miniature pantaloons.

"Nan," said the husband, with a perplexed look, "what are we to do with our Robin when he grows up?"

"George," answered the composed wife, "don't you think it is rather soon to trouble ourselves with that question? Robin is a mere child yet. We must first give him a good education."

"Of course, I know that," returned the perplexed husband, "still, I can't help thinking about what is to be done after he has had the good education. You know I have no relation in the world except brother Richard, who is as poor as myself. We have no influential friends to help him into the Army or the Navy or the Indian Civil Service; and the Church, you know, is not suitable for an imp. Just look at him now!"

​Mrs. Wright looked through, the window, over one of those sunny landscapes which are usually described as "smiling," across a winding rivulet, and at last fixed her gorgeous eyes on a tall post, up which a small black object was seen to be struggling.

"What can he be up to?" said the father.

"He seems to be up the telegraph-post," said the mother, "investigating the wires, no doubt. I heard him talking about telegraphy to Madge this morning—retailing what cousin Sam tries to teach him,—and I shouldn't wonder if he were now endeavouring to make sure that what he told her was correct, for you know he is a thorough investigator."

"Yes, I know it," murmured the father, with a grim pursing of his lips; "he investigated the inside of my watch last week, to find out, as he said, what made the noise in its 'stummick,' and it has had intermittent fever ever since. Two days ago he investigated my razor,—it is now equal to a cross-cut saw; and as to my drawers and papers, excepting those which I lock up, there is but one word which fully describes the result of his investigations, and that is—chaos."

There was, in truth, some ground for that father's emotions, for Master Robin displayed investigative, not to say destructive, capacities far in advance of his years.

​"Never mind, George," said Mrs. Wright soothingly, "we must put up with his little ways as best we may, consoling ourselves with the reflection that Robin has genius and perseverance, with which qualities he is sure to make his way in the world."

"He has at all events made his way up the telegraph-post," said Mr. Wright, his smile expanding and the grimness of it departing; "see! the rascal is actually stretching out his hand to grasp one of the wires. Ha! hallo!"

The composed wife became suddenly discomposed, and gave vent to a scream, for at that moment the small black object which they had been watching with so much interest was seen to fall backward, make a wild grasp at nothing with both hands, and fall promptly to the ground.

His father threw up the window, leaped out, dashed across the four-feet-wide lawn, cleared the winding rivulet, and cut, like a hunted hare, over the smiling landscape towards the telegraph-post, at the foot of which he picked up his unconscious though not much injured son.

"What made you climb the post, Robin?" asked his cousin Madge that evening, as she nursed the adventurous boy on her knee—and Madge was a very motherly nurse, although a full year younger than Robin.

​"I kimed it to see if I could hear the 'trissity," replied the injured one.

"The lek-trissity," said Madge, correcting. "You must learn to p'onounce your words popperly, dear. You 'll never be a great man if you are so careless."

"I don't want to be a g'eat man," retorted Robin. "I on'y want t'understand things whats puzzlesum."

"Well, does the telegraph puzzle you?"

"Oh! mos' awfully," returned Robin, with a solemn gaze of his earnest eyes, one of which was rendered fantastic by a yellow-green ring round it and a swelling underneath. "I 's kite sure I 's stood for hours beside dat post listin' to it hummin' an' bummin' like our olianarp—"

"Now, Robin, do be careful. You know mamma calls it an olian harp."

"Yes, well, like our olian h-arp, only a deal louder, an' far nicer. An' I's often said to myself, Is that the 'trissity—?"

"Lek, Robin, lek!"

"Well, yes, lek-trissity. So I thought I'd kime up an' see, for, you know, papa says the 'trissity—lek, I mean—runs along the wires—"

"But papa also says," interrupted Madge, "that the sounds you want to know about are made by the vi—the vi—"

"Bratin'," suggested the invalid.

"Yes, vibratin' of the wires."

​"I wonder what vi-bratin' means," murmured Robin, turning his lustrous though damaged eyes meditatively on the landscape.

"Don'no for sure," said Madge, "but I think it means tremblin'."

It will be seen from the above conversation that Robert Wright and his precocious cousin Marjory were of a decidedly philosophical turn of mind.

EXTRAORDINARY RESULT OF AN ATTEMPT AT AMATEUR CABLE-LAYING.

Time continued to roll additional years off his reel, and rolled out Robin and Madge in length and breadth, though we cannot say much for thickness. Time also developed their minds, and Robin gradually began to understand a little more of the nature of that subtle fluid—if we may venture so to call it—under the influence of which he had been born.

"Come, Madge," he said one day, throwing on his cap, "let us go and play at cables."

Madge, ever ready to play at anything, put on her sun-bonnet and followed her ambitious leader.

"Is it to be land-telegraphs to-day, or submarine cables?" inquired Madge, with as much gravity and earnestness as if the world's welfare depended on the decision.

"Cables, of course," answered Robin, "why, Madge, I have done with land-telegraphs now. There 's nothing more to learn about them. Cousin Sam has put me up to everything, you know. ​Besides, there 's no mystery about land-lines. Why, you 've only got to stick up a lot o' posts with insulators screwed to 'em, fix wires to the insulators, clap on an electric battery and a telegraph instrument, and fire away."

"Robin, what are insulators?" asked Madge, with a puzzled look.

"Madge," replied Robin, with a self-satisfied expression on his pert face, "this is the three-hundred-thousandth time I have explained that to you."

"Explain it the three-hundred-thousand-and-first time, then, dear Robin, and perhaps I'll take it in."

"Well," began Robin, with a hypocritical sigh of despair, "you must know that everything in nature is more or less a conductor of electricity, but some things conduct it so well—such as copper and iron—that they are called conductors, and some things—such as glass and earthenware—conduct it so very badly that they scarcely conduct it at all, and are called non-conductors. D'ee see?"

"Oh yes, I see, Robin; so does a bat, but he doesn't see well. However, go on."

"Well, if I were to run my wire through the posts that support it, my electricity would escape down these posts into the earth, especially if the posts were wet with rain, for water is a good ​conductor, and Mister Electricity has an irresistible desire to bolt into the earth, like a mole."

"Naughty fellow!" murmured Madge.

"But," continued Robin impressively, "if I fix little lumps of glass with a hole in them to the posts, and fix my wires to these. Electricity cannot bolt, because the glass lumps are non-conductors, and won't let him pass."

"How good of them!" said Madge.

"Yes, isn't it? So, you see," continued Robin, "the glass lumps are insulators, for they cut the electricity off from the earth as an island is, or, at all events, appears to be, cut off from it by water; and Mister Electricity must go along the wires and do what I tell him. Of course, you know, I must make my electricity first in a battery, which, as I have often and often told you, is a trough containing a mixture of acid and water, with plates or slices of zinc and copper in it, placed one after the other, but not touching each other. How, if I fix a piece of wire to my first copper slice or plate, and the other end of it to my last zinc slice or plate, immediately electricity will begin to be made, and will fly from the copper to the zinc, and so round and round until the plates are worn out or the wire broken. D'ee see?"

"No, Robin, I don't see; I 'm blinder than the blindest mole."

​"Oh, Madge, what a wonderful mind you must have!" said Robin, laughing. "It is so simple."

"Of course," said Madge, "I understand what you mean by troughs and plates and all that, but what I want to know is why that arrangement is necessary. Why would it not do just as well to tempt electricity out of its hiding-hole with plates or slices of cheese and bread, placed one after the other in a trough filled with a mixture of glue and melted butter?"

"What stuff you do talk, Madge! As well might, you ask why it would not do to make a plum-pudding out of nutmegs and coal-tar. There are some things that no fellow can understand, and of course I don't know everything!"

The astounding modesty of this latter remark seemed to have furnished Madge with food for reflection, for she did not reply to it. After a few minutes' walk the amateur electricians reached the scene of their intended game—a sequestered dell in a plantation, through which brawled a rather turbulent stream. At one part, where a willow overhung the water, there was a deep broad pool. The stream entered the pool with a headlong plunge, and issued from it with a riotous upheaval of wavelets and foam among jagged rocks, as if rejoicing in, and rather boastful about, the previous leap.

The game was extremely simple. The pool was ​to be the German Ocean, and a piece of stout cord was to serve as a submarine cable.

The boy and girl were well-matched playmates, for Madge was ignorant and receptive—in reference to science,—Robin learned and communicative, while both were intensely earnest.

"Now, this is the battery," said Robin, when he had dug a deep hole close to the pool with a spade brought for the purpose.

"Yes, and the muddy water in it will do for the mixture of acid and water," said Madge.

As she spoke, Robin's toe caught on a root, and he went headlong into the battery, out of which he emerged scarcely recognisable. It was a severe, though not an electric, shock, and at first Robin seemed inclined to whimper, but his manhood triumphed, and he burst into a compound laugh and yell, to the intense relief of Madge, who thought at first that he had been seriously injured.

"Never mind, Madge," said Robin, as he cleansed his muddy head; "cousin Sam has often told me that nothing great was ever done except in the face of difficulties and dangers. I wonder whether this should be counted a difficulty or a danger?"

"At first I thought it a danger," said Madge, with a laugh, "but the trouble you now have with the mud in your hair looks like a difficulty, doesn't it?"

​"Why, then, it 's both," cried Robin. "Come, that 's a good beginning. Now, Madge, you get away round to the opposite side of the pool, and mind you don't slip in, it 's rather steep here."

"This is England," cried Robin, preparing to throw the line over to his assistant, who stood eager to aid on the other side, "and you are standing on—on—what 's on the other side of the German Ocean?"

"I 'm not sure, Robin. Holland, I think, or Denmark."

"Well, we 'll say Denmark. Look out now, and be ready to catch. I 'm going to connect England and Denmark with a submarine cable."

"Stay!" cried Madge, "is that the way submarine cables are laid, by throwing them over the sea?"

"N—no, not exactly. They had a steamboat, you know, to carry over the telegraph from England to France; but we haven't got a steamer—not even a plank to make-believe one. Cousin Sam says that a good workman can do his work with almost any tools that come to hand. As we have no tools at all, we will improve on that and go to work without them. Now, catch!"

Robin made a splendid heave—so splendid indeed that it caused him to stagger backward, and again he stumbled into his own battery! This time, however, only one leg was immersed.

​"Another danger!" shouted Madge in great glee, "but I 've caught the cable."

"All right. Now make fast the shore-end to a bush, and we 'll commence telegraphing. The first must be a message from the Queen to the King of Denmark—or is it the President?"

"King, I think, Robin, but I 'm not sure."

"Well, it won't matter. But—I say—"

"What 's wrong now?"

"Why, the cable won't sink. It is floating about on the top of the pool, and it can't be a submarine cable, you know, unless it sinks."

"Another difficulty, Robin."

"We will face and overcome it, Madge. Cast off the shore-end and I 'll soon settle that."

Having fastened a number of small stones to the cable, this persevering electrician would certainly have overcome the difficulty if the line had not, when thrown, unfortunately caught on a branch of the willow, where it hung suspended just out of Madge's reach.

"How provoking!" she said, stretching out her hand to the utmost.

"Take care—you 'll—ha!"

The warning came too late. The edge of the bank gave way, and Madge went headlong into the pool with a wild shriek and a fearful plunge.

Robin stood rooted to the spot—heart, breath, ​blood, brain, paralysed for the moment—gazing at the spot where his playmate had disappeared.

Another moment and her head and hands appeared. She struggled bravely for life, while the circling current carried her quickly to the lower end of the pool.

Robin's energies returned, as he afterwards said, like an electric shock, but accompanied with a terrible sinking of the heart, for he knew that he could not swim! His education in this important particular had been neglected. He sprang round to the lower end of the pool just in time to hold out his hand to the drowning girl He almost touched her outstretched hand as she swept towards the turbulent waters below, but failed to grasp it.

For the first time in his life our little hero was called on to face death voluntarily. Another moment and Madge would have been caught in the boiling stream that rushed towards the fall below. He was equal to the occasion. He sprang right upon Madge and caught her in his arms. There was no need to hold on to her. In the agony of fear the poor child clasped the boy in a deadly embrace. They were whirled violently round and hurled against a rock. Robin caught it with one hand, but it was instantly torn from his grasp. The waters overwhelmed them, and again sent them ​violently towards the bank. This time Robin caught a rock with both hands and held on. Slowly, while almost choked with the water that splashed up into his face, he worked his right knee into a crevice, then made a wild grasp with the left hand at a higher projection of the rock. At the same moment his left foot struck the bottom. Another effort and he was out of danger, but it was several minutes ere he succeeded in dragging Madge from the hissing water of the shallows to the green sward above, and after this was accomplished he found it almost impossible to tear himself from the grasp of the now unconscious girl.

At first poor Robin thought that his companion was dead, but by degrees consciousness returned, and at last she was able to rise and walk.

Drenched, dishevelled, and depressed, these unfortunate electricians returned home.

Of course they were received with mingled joy and reproof. Of course, also, they were forbidden to go near the pool again—though this prohibition was afterwards removed, and our hero ultimately became a first-rate swimmer and diver.

Thus was frustrated the laying of the first submarine cable between England and Denmark!

TELLS OF OUR HERO'S VISIT TO THE GREAT CABLE.

Robin Wright returned home with a bounding heart. Since his electrical appointment he had become, figuratively speaking, an indiarubber ball—a sort of human "squash." His heart bounded; his feet bounded; if his head had fallen off it also would have bounded, no doubt.

On arriving he found his father's elder brother—a retired sea-captain of the merchant service—on a visit to the family.

There was not a more favourite uncle in the kingdom than uncle Rik—thus had his name of Richard been abbreviated by the Wright family. Uncle Rik was an old bachelor, and as bald as a baby—more so than many babies. He was good-humoured and liberal-hearted, but a settled unbeliever in the world's progress. He idolised the "good old times," and quite pleasantly scorned the "present."

"So, so, Robin," he said, grasping our hero by ​both hands (and uncle Rik's grasp was no joke), "you 're goin' in for batteries—galvanic batteries an' wires, are you? Well, lad, I always thought you more or less of a fool, but I never thought you such a born idiot as that comes to."

"Yes, uncle," said Robin, with a pleasant laugh, for he was used to the old captain's plain language, "I 'm going to be an electrician."

"Bah! pooh!—an electrician!" exclaimed uncle Rik with vehemence, "as well set up for a magician at once."

"Indeed he won't be far short of that," said Mrs. Wright, who was seated at the tea-table with her husband and Madge—"at least," she added, "if all be true that we hear of this wonderful science."

"If only half of it be true," interjected Mr. Wright.

"But it ain't true," said Captain Rik firmly. "They talk a deal of stuff about it, more than nine-tenths of which is lies—pure fable. I don't believe in electricity; more than that, I don't believe in steam. Batteries and boilers are both bosh!"

"But, uncle, you can't deny that they exist," said Robin

"Of course not," replied the captain. "I know as well as you do—maybe better—that there 's a heap o' telegraph-wires rove about the world like ​great spiders' webs, and that there are steamboats bummin' an' buzzin'—ay, an' bu'stin' too—all over the ocean, like huge wasps, an' a pretty mess they make of it too among them! Why, there was a poor old lady the other day that was indooced by a young nephy to send a telegraphic message to her husband in Manchester—she bein' in London. She was very unwillin' to do it, bein' half inclined to regard the telegraph as a plant from the lower regions. The message sent was, 'Your lovin' wife hopes you 'll be home to-morrow.' It reached the husband, 'Your lowerin' wife hopes you 'll be hung to-morrow.' Bad writin' and a useless flourish at the e turned home into hung. The puzzled husband telegraphs in reply, 'Mistake somewhere—all right—shall be back three o'clock—to-morrow—kind love.' And how d'ye think this reached the old lady?—'Mistake somewhere—all night—stabbed in back—through cloak—two more rows—killed, love.' Now, d'you call that successful telegraphing?"

"Not very," admitted Robin, with a laugh, "but of the thousands of messages that pass to and fro daily there cannot be many like these, I should think."

"But what did the poor wife do?" asked Madge anxiously.

"Do?" repeated Rik indignantly, as though the misfortune were his own—for he was a very ​sympathetic captain—"do? Why, she gave a yell that nigh knocked the young nephy out of his reason, and fell flat on the floor. When she came to, she bounced up, bore away for the railway station under full sail, an' shipped for Manchester, where she found her husband, alive and hearty, pitchin' into a huge beefsteak, which he very properly said, after recovering from his first surprise, was big enough for two."

"But what objection have you to steamers, uncle Rik?" asked Mrs. Wright; "I'm sure they are very comfortable and fast-going."

"Comfortable and fast-goin'!" repeated the old sailor, with a look of supreme contempt, "yes, they're comfortable enough when your berth ain't near the paddles or the boilers; an' they 're fast-goin', no doubt, specially when they bu'st. But ain't the nasty things made of iron—like kitchen kettles? and won't that rust? an' if you knock a hole in 'em won't they go down at once? an' if you clap too much on the safety-valves won't they go up at once? Bah! pooh!—there 's nothin' like the wooden walls of old England. You may take the word of an old salt for it,—them wooden walls will float and plough the ocean when all these new-fangled iron pots are sunk or blowed to atoms. Why, look at the Great Eastern herself, the biggest kettle of 'em all, what a precious mess she made of herself! At ​first she wouldn't move at all, when they tried to launch her; then they had to shove her off sidewise like a crab; then she lost her rudder in a gale, an' smashed all her cabin furniture like a bad boy with his toys. Bah! I only hope I may be there when she bu'sts, for it 'll be a grand explosion."

"I 'm sorry you have so bad an opinion of her, uncle, for I am appointed to serve in the Great Eastern while layin' the Atlantic Cable."

"Sorry to hear it, lad; very sorry to hear it. Of course I hope for your sake that she won't blow up on this voyage, though it 's nothin' more or less than an absurd ship goin' on a wild-goose chase."

"But, uncle, submarine cables have now passed the period of experiment," said Robin, coming warmly to the defence of his favourite subject. "Just consider, from the time the first one was laid, in 1851, between Dover and Calais, till now, about fifteen years, many thousands of miles of conducting-wire have been laid along the bottom of the sea to many parts of the world, and they are in full and successful operation at this moment. Why, even in 1858, when the first Atlantic Cable was laid, the Gutta-percha Company had made forty-four submarine cables."

"I know it, lad, but it won't last. It 's all sure to bu'st up in course of time."

"Then, though the attempt to lay the last Atlantic ​Cable proved a failure," continued Robin, "the first one, the 1858 one, was a success at the beginning, no one can deny that."

"Ay, but how long did it last?" demanded the skipper, hitting the table with his fist.

"Oh, please, have pity on the tea-cups, uncle Rik," cried the hostess.

"Beg pardon, sister, but I can't help getting riled when I hear younkers talkin' stuff. Why, do you really suppose," said the captain, turning again to Robin, "that because they managed in '58 to lay a cable across the Atlantic, and exchange a few messages, which refused to travel after a few days, that they'll succeed in layin' down a permanent speakin'-trumpet between old England and Noof'nland—2000 miles, more or less—in spite o' gales an' currents, an' ships' anchors, an' insects, an' icebergs an' whales, to say nothing o' great sea-sarpints an' suchlike?"

"Uncle Rik, I do," said Robin, with intensely earnest eyes and glowing cheeks.

"Bravo! Robin, you 'll do it, I do believe, if it is to be done at all; give us your hand, lad."

The old sailor's red countenance beamed with a huge smile of kindness as he shook his enthusiastic nephew's hand.

There," he added, "I 'll not say another word against iron kettles or Atlantic cables. If you ​succeed I 'll give batteries and boilers full credit, but if you fail I 'll not forget to remind you that I said it would all bu'st up in course of time."

With note-book and pencil in hand Robin went down the very next day to the works of the Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company, where the great cable was being made.

Presenting his letter of introduction from Mr. Smith, Robin was conducted over the premises by a clerk, who, under the impression that he was a very youthful and therefore unusually clever newspaper correspondent, treated him with marked respect. This was a severe trial to Robin's modesty; nevertheless he bore up manfully, and pulling out his note-book prepared for action.

The reader need not fear that we intend to inflict on him Robin's treatise on what he styled the "Great Atlantic Cable," but it would be wrong to leave the subject without recording a few of those points which made a deep impression on him.

"The cable when completed, sir," said the clerk, as he conducted his visitor to the factory, "will be 2300 nautical miles in length."

"Indeed," said Robin, recording the statement with solemn gravity and great accuracy; "but I thought," he added, "that the exact distance from Ireland to Newfoundland was only 1600 miles."

"You are right, sir, but we allow 700 miles of ​'slack' for the inequalities of the bottom. Its cost will be £700,000, and the whole when finished will weigh 7000 tons."

Poor Robin's mind had, of course, been informed about ton-weights at school, but he had not felt that he realised what they actually signified until the thought suddenly occurred that a cart-load of coals weighed one ton, whereupon 7000 carts of coals leaped suddenly into the field of his bewildered fancy. A slightly humorous tendency, inherited from his mother, induced 7000 drivers, with 7000 whips and a like number of smock-frocks, to mount the carts and drive in into the capacious hold of the Great Eastern. They turned, however, and drove instantly off his brain when he came into the august presence of the cable itself.

The central core of the cable—that part by which the electric force or fluid was to pass from the Old World to the New, and vice versa, was made of copper. It was not a solid, single wire, but a strand composed of seven fine wires, each about the thickness of a small pin. Six of these wires were wound spirally round the seventh. This was in order to prevent what is termed a "breach of continuity," for it will be at once perceived that while a single wire of the core might easily break in the process of laying the cable, and thereby prevent the flow of electricity, the probability of the seven small ​wires all breaking at the same spot was so remote as to be almost impossible, and if even one wire out of the seven held, the continuity would remain. Nay, even all the seven might break, but, so long as they did not all break at the same place, continuity would not be lost, because copper would still continue to touch copper all throughout the cable's length.

In the process of construction, the central wire of the copper core was first covered with a semi-liquid coating of gutta-percha, mixed with tar—known as "Chatterton's Compound." This was laid on so thick that when the other wires were wound round it all air was excluded. Then a coating of the same compound was laid over the finished conductor, and thus the core was solidified. Next, the core was surrounded with a coating of the purest gutta-percha—a splendid non-conductor, impervious to water—which, when pressed to it, while in a plastic state, formed the first insulator or tube to the core. Over this tube was laid a thin coat of Chatterton's Compound for the purpose of closing up any small flaws or minute holes that might have escaped detection. Then came a second coating of gutta-percha, followed by another coating of compound, and so on alternately until four coats of compound and four of gutta-percha had been laid on.

​This core, when completed, was wound in lengths on large reels, and was then submerged in water and subjected to a variety of severe electrical tests so as to bring it as near as possible to a state of perfection, after which every inch of it was examined by hand while being unwound from the reels and rewound on the large drums on which it was to be forwarded to the covering works at East Greenwich, there to receive its external protecting sheath.

All this, and much more besides, did Robin Wright carefully note down, and that same evening went home and delivered a long and luminous lecture, over which his mother wondered, Madge rejoiced, his father gloried, and uncle Rik fell asleep.

Next day he hastened to the covering works, and, presenting his credentials, was admitted.

Here he saw the important and delicate core again carefully tested as to its electrical condition, after which it received a new jacket of tanned jute yarn to protect it from the iron top coat yet to come. Its jute jacket on, it was then coiled away in tanks full of water, where it was constantly kept submerged and continuously tested for insulation. Last of all the top coat was put on. This consisted of ten wires of peculiarly fine and strong iron. Each of these ten wires had put on it a special coat of its own, made of tarred Manilla yarn, to protect it ​from rust as well as to lighten its specific gravity. The core being brought from its tank, and passed round several sheaves, which carried it below the factory floor, was drawn up through a hole in the centre of a circular table, around the circumference of which were ten drums of the Manilla-covered wire. A stout iron rod, fastened to the circumference of the table, rose from between each drum to the ceiling, converging in a cone which passed through to the floor above. Our core rose in the middle of all, and went through the hollow of the cone. When all was put in noisy and bewildering motion, the core which rose from the turning-table and whirling drums as a thin jute-clad line, came out in the floor above a stout iron-clad cable, with a Manilla top-dressing, possessing strength sufficient to bear eleven miles of its own length perpendicularly suspended in water—or a margin of strength more than four and a half times that required,—and with a breaking strain of seven tons fifteen hundredweight.

When thoroughly charged and primed, Robin went off home to write his treatise.

Then he received the expected summons to repair on board the Great Eastern, and bade adieu to his early home.

It was of no use that Robin tried to say good-bye in a facetious way, and told Madge and his mother not to cry, saying that he was only going ​across the Atlantic, a mere fish-pond, and that he would be home again in a month or two. Ah! these little efforts at deception never avail. Himself broke down while urging Madge to behave herself, and when his mother gave him a small Bible, and said she required no promise, for she knew he would treasure and read it, he was obliged hastily to give her a last fervent hug, and rush from the house without saying good-bye at all.

THE BIG SHIP—FIRST NIGHT ABOARD.

When our hero at last reached the Great Eastern, he soon found himself in what may he termed a lost condition. At first he was disappointed, for he saw her at a distance, and it is well known that distance lends deception as well as "enchantment to the view," Arrived alongside, however, he felt as if he had suddenly come under the walls of a great fortress or city.

Presently he stood on the deck of the Big Ship, as its familiars called it, and, from that moment, for several days, was, as we have said, in a lost condition. He was lost in wonder, to begin with, as he gazed at the interminable length and breadth of planking styled the deck, and the forest of funnels, masts, and rigging, and the amazing perspective, which caused men at the further end from where he stood to look like dolls.

Then he was lost in reality, when he went below and had to ask his way as though he were wandering ​in the labyrinths of a great city. He felt—or thought he felt—like a mere mite in the mighty vessel. Soon he lost his old familiar powers of comparison and contrast, and ere long he lost his understanding altogether, for he fell down one of the hatchways into a dark abyss, where he would probably have ended his career with electric speed if he had not happily fallen into the arms of a human being, with whom he rolled and bumped affectionately, though painfully, to the bottom of the stair.

The human being, growled intense disapprobation during the process, and Robin fancied that the voice was familiar.

"Come, I say," said the being, remonstratively, "this is altogether too loving, you know. Don't squeeze quite so tight, young 'un, whoever you be."

"Oh, I beg your pardon," gasped Robin, relaxing his grasp when they stopped rolling; "I 'm so sorry. I hope I haven't hurt you."

"Hurt me!" laughed Jim Slagg, for it was he; "no, you small electrician, you 'aven't got battery-power enough to do me much damage; but what d' ye mean by it? Is this the way to meet an old friend? Is it right for a Wright to go wrong at the wery beginnin' of his career? But come, I forgive you. Have you been introdooced to Capting Anderson yet?"

​"No; who is he?"

"Who is he? you ignorant crokidile! why, he 's the capting of the Great Eastern, the commander o' the Big Ship, the Great Mogul o' the quarter-deck, the king o' the expedition. But, of course, you 'aven't bin introdooced to him. He don't associate much with small fry like us—more 's the pity, for it might do 'im good. But come, I 'll take you under my wing for the present, because your partikler owner, Ebbysneezer Smith, ain't come aboard yet—ashore dissipatin', I suppose,—an' everybody 's so busy gettin' ready to start that nobody will care to be bothered with you, so come along."

There was some truth in this eccentric youths' remarks, for in the bustle of preparation for an early start every one on board seemed to be so thoroughly engrossed with his own duty that he had no time to attend to anything else, and Robin had begun to experience, in the absence of his "partikler owner," an uneasy sensation of being very much in people's way. As he felt strangely attracted by the off-hand good-humoured impudence of his new friend, he consented to follow him, and was led to a small apartment, somewhere in the depths of the mighty ship, in which several youths, not unlike Slagg, were romping. They had, indeed, duties to perform like the rest, but the moment chanced to be with ​them a brief period of relaxation, which they devoted to skylarking.

"Hallo! who have you got here?" demanded a large clumsy youth, knocking off Slagg's cap as he asked the question.

"Come, Stumps, don't you be cheeky," said Slagg, quietly picking up his cap and putting it on; "this is a friend o' mine—one o' the electricians,—so you needn't try to shock his feelin's, for he can give better than he gets. He 's got no berth yet, so I brought him here to show him hospitality."

"Oh, indeed," said Mr. Stumps, bowing with mock respect; then, turning to the comrade with whom he had been skylarking, "Here, Jeff, supply this gentleman with food."

Jeff, entering into Stumps' humour, immediately brought a plate of broken ship-biscuit with a can of water, and set them on the table before Robin. Our hero, who had never been accustomed to much jesting, took the gift in earnest, thanked Jeff heartily, and, being hungry, set to work with a will upon the simple fare, while Stumps and Jeff looked at each other and winked.

"Come, I can add something to improve that feast," said Slagg, drawing a piece of cheese from his pocket, and setting it before his friend.

Robin thanked him, and was about to take the cheese when Stumps snatched it up, and ran out ​of the room with it, laughing coarsely as he went.

"The big bully" growled Slagg; "it's quite obvious to me that feller will have to be brought to his marrow-bones afore long."

"Never mind," said Jeff, who was of a more amiable spirit than Stumps, "here's more o' the same sort." He took another piece of cheese from a shelf as he spoke, and gave it to Robin.

"Now, my young toolip," said Slagg, "havin' finished your feed, p'r'aps you 'd like to see over the big ship."

With great delight Robin said that he should like nothing better, and, being led forth, was soon lost a second time in wonderment.

Of what use was it that Slagg told him the Great Eastern was 692 feet long by 83 feet broad, and 70 feet deep? If he had said yards instead of feet it would have been equally instructive to Robin in his then mentally lost condition. Neither was it of the slightest use to be told that the weight of the big ship's cargo, including cable, tanks, and coals, was 21,000 tons.

But reason began to glimmer again when Slagg told him that the two largest vessels afloat could not contain, in a convenient position for passing out, the 2700 miles then coiled in the three tanks of the Great Eastern.

​"This is the main tank," said Slagg, leading his friend to a small platform that hung over a black and apparently unfathomable gulf.

"I see nothing at all," said Robin, stretching his head cautiously forward and gazing down into darkness profound, while he held on tight to a rail. "How curious!—when I look down everything in this wonderful ship seems to have no bottom, and when I look up, nothing appears to have any top, while, if I look backward or forward things seem to have no end! Ah! I see something now. Coming in from the light prevented me at first. Why, it 's like a huge circus!"

"Yes, it on'y wants hosses an' clowns to make it all complete," said Slagg. "Now, that tank is 68 feet 6 inches in diameter, and 20 feet 6 inches deep, an' holds close upon 900 miles of cable. There are two other tanks not much smaller, all choke-full. An' the queer thing is, that they can telegraph through all its length now, at this moment as it lies there,—an' they are doing so continually to make sure that all 's right."

"Oh! I understand that," said Robin quickly; "I have read all about the laying of the first cable in 1858. It is the appearance of things in this great ship that confounds me."

"Come along then, and I'll confound you a little more," said Slagg.

​He accordingly led his friend from one part of the ship to another, explaining and commenting as he went, and certainly Robin's wonder did not decrease.

From the grand saloon—which was like a palatial drawing-room, in size as well as in gorgeous furniture—to the mighty cranks and boilers of its engines, everything in and about the ship was calculated to amaze. As Slagg justly remarked, "It was stunnin'."

When our hero was saturated with the "Big Ship" till he could hold no more, his friend took him back to his berth, and left him there for a time to his meditations.

Returning soon after, he sat down on a locker.

"I say, Robin Wright," he began, thrusting his hands into his trousers-pockets, "it looks a'most as if I had smuggled you aboard of this ship like a stowaway. Nobody seems to know you are here, an' what 's more, nobody seems to care. Your partikler owner ain't turned up yet, an' it's my opinion he won't turn up to-night, so I 've spoke to the stooard—he 's my owner, you know—an' he says you 'd better just turn into my berth to-night, an' you 'll get showed into your own to-morrow."

"But where will you sleep?" asked Robin, with some hesitation.

"Never you mind that, my young electrician. ​That's my business. What you 've got to do is to turn in."

Jeff and another lad, who were preparing to retire for the night at the time, laughed at this, but Robin paid no attention, thanked his friend, and said that as he was rather tired he would accept his kind offer.

Thereafter, pulling out the small Bible which he had kept in his pocket since leaving home, he went into a corner, read a few verses, and then knelt down to pray.

The surprise of the other lads was expressed in their eyes, but they said nothing.

Just then the door opened, and the lad named Stumps entered. Catching sight of Robin on his knees he opened his eyes wide, pursed his mouth, and gave a low whistle. Then he went up to Robin and gave him a slight kick. Supposing that it was an accident, Robin did not move, but on receiving another and much more decided kick he rose and turned round. At the same moment Stumps received a resounding and totally unexpected slap on the cheek from Jim Slagg, who planted himself before him with clenched fists and flashing eyes.

"What d' ye mean by interferin' wi' my friend at his dewotions, you monkey-faced polypus?" he demanded fiercely.

The monkey-faced polypus replied not a word, ​but delivered a right-hander that might have felled a small horse, Jim Slagg however was prepared for that. He turned his head neatly to one side so as to let the blow pass, and at the same moment planted his knuckles on the bridge of his opponent's nose and sent him headlong into Jeff's bunk, which lay conveniently behind. Jumping furiously out of that, and skinning his shins in the act. Stumps rushed at Slagg, who, leaping lightly aside, tripped him up and gave him a smack on the left ear as he passed, by way of keeping him lively.

Unsubdued by this, Stumps gathered himself up and made a blind rush at his adversary, but was abruptly stopped by what Jeff called a "dab" on the nose. Repeating the rush, Stumps was staggered by a plunging blow on the forehead, and he paused to breathe, gazing the while at his foe, who, though a smaller youth than himself, was quite as strong.

"If you 've had enough, monkey-face," said Slagg, with a bland smile, "don't hesitate to say so, an' I 'll shake hands; but if you 'd prefer a little more before goin' to bed, just let me know, and—"

Slagg here performed some neat and highly suggestive motions with his fists by way of finishing the sentence.

Evidently Stumps wanted more, for, after a brief pause, he again rushed at Slagg, who, stepping aside ​like a Spanish matador, allowed his foe to expend his wrath on the bulkhead of the cabin.

"You'll go through it next time, Stumps, if you plunge like that," said Jeff, who had watched the fight with lively interest, and had encouraged the combatants with sundry marks of applause, besides giving them much gratuitous advice.

Regardless alike of encouragement and advice, the angry youth turned round once more and received a buffet that sent him sprawling on the table, off which he fell and rolled under it. There he lay and panted.

"Now, my sweet polypus," said the victor, going down on one knee and patting the vanquished on his shoulder, "next time you feels tempted to kick a gentleman—specially a electrician—at his dewotions, think of Jim Slagg an' restrain yourself. I bear you no ill-will however—so, good-night."

Saying this, Robin's champion left the room and Stumps retired to his berth growling.

Before passing from this subject, we may add that, the next night, Robin—whose owner was still absent—was again hospitably invited to share the cabin of his friend and protector. When about to retire to rest he considered whether it was advisable to risk the repetition of the scene of the previous night, and, although not quite easy in his conscience about it, came to the conclusion that it would be ​well to say his prayers in bed. Accordingly, he crept quietly into his berth and lay down, but Jim Slagg, who was present, no sooner saw what he was about than he jumped up with a roar of indignation.

"What are you about?" he cried, "ain't you goin' to say your prayers, you white-livered electrician? Come, git up! If I 'm to fight, you must pray! D' ye hear? Turn out, I say."

With that he seized Robin, dragged him out of bed, thrust him on his knees, and bade him do his "dooty."

At first Robin's spirit rose in rebellion, but a sense of shame at his moral cowardice, and a perception of the justice of his friend's remark, subdued him. He did pray forthwith, though what the nature of his prayer was we have never been able to ascertain, and do not care to guess. The lesson, however, was not lost. From that date forward Robin Wright was no longer ashamed or afraid to be seen in the attitude of prayer.

LAYING THE CABLE—"FAULTS" AND FAULT-FINDING—ANXIETIES, ACCIDENTS, AND OTHER MATTERS.

Come with us now, good reader, to another and very different scene—out upon the boundless sea. The great Atlantic is asleep, but his breast heaves gently and slowly like that of a profound sleeper.

The Great Eastern looks like an island on the water—steady as a rock, obedient only to the rise and fall of the ocean swell, as she glides along at the rate of six knots an hour. All is going well. The complicated-looking paying-out machinery revolves smoothly; the thread-like cable passes over the stern, and down into the deep with the utmost regularity.

The shore-end of the cable—twenty-seven miles in length, and much thicker than, the deep-sea portion—had been laid at Valentia, on the 22d of July, amid prayer and praise, speech-making, and much enthusiasm, on the part of operators and spectators. On the 23d, the end of the shore ​cable was spliced to that of the main cable, and the voyage had begun.

The first night had passed quietly, and upwards of eighty miles of the cable had gone out of the aftertank, over the big ship's stern, and down to its ocean bed, when Robin Wright—unable to sleep—quietly slipped into his clothes, and went on deck. It was drawing near to dawn, A knot of electricians and others were chatting in subdued tones about the one subject that filled the minds of all in the ship.

"What! unable to sleep, like the rest of us?" said Ebenezer Smith, accosting Robin as he reached the deck.

"Yes, sir," said Robin, with a sleepy smile, "I 've been thinking of the cable so much that I took to dreaming about it when I fell asleep, and it suddenly turned into the great sea-serpent, and choked me to such an extent that I awoke, and then thought it better to get up and have a look at it."

"Ah! my boy, you are not the only one whom the cable won't let sleep. It will be well looked after during the voyage, for there are two sets of electricians aboard—all of them uncommonly wide awake—one set representing the Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company, under M. de Sauty; the other set representing the Atlantic Telegraph Company, under Mr. Varley and Professor Thomson. The former are to test the ​electrical state of the cable, and to keep up signals with the shore every hour, night and day, during the voyage, while the latter are to watch and report as to whether the cable fulfils her conditions, as specified in the contract. So you see the smallest fault or hitch will be observed at once."

"Do you mean, sir," asked Robin in surprise, "that telegraphing with the shore is to be kept up continually all the voyage?"

"Yes, my boy, I do," answered Smith. "The lengths of the cable in the three tanks are joined up into one length, and telegraphing—for the purpose of testing it—has been kept up with the shore without intermission from the moment we left Ireland, and began to pay out. It will be continued, if all goes well, until we land the other end in Newfoundland. The tests are threefold,—first, for insulation, which, as you know, means the soundness and perfection of the gutta-percha covering that prevents the electricity from escaping from the wires, through the sea, into the earth; secondly, for continuity, or the unbroken condition of the conductor or copper core throughout its whole length; and, thirdly, to determine the resistance of the conductor, by which is meant its objection to carry our messages without vigorous application of the spur in the form of increased electrical power in our batteries. You see, Robin, every message sent to us ​from the shore, as well as every message sent by us in reply, has to travel through the entire length of the cable, namely about 2400 miles, and as every mile of distance increases this unwillingness, or resistance, we have to increase the electrical power in the batteries in proportion to the distance to which we want to send our message. D' you understand ?"

"I think I do, sir; but how is the exact amount of resistance tested?"

Mr. Smith smiled as he looked at the earnest face of his young questioner.

"My boy," said he, "you would require a more fully educated mind to understand the answer to that question. The subtleties of electrical science cannot be explained in a brief conversation. You 'll have to study and apply to books for full light on that subject. Nevertheless, although I cannot carry you into the subject just now, I can tell you something about it. You remember the testing-room which I showed you yesterday—the darkened room between the captain's state-room and the entrance to the grand saloon?"

Yes, sir, I remember it well," responded Robin,—"the room into which the conducting-wires from the ends of the cable are led to the testing-tables, on which are the curious-looking galvanometers and other testing machines."

"Just so," returned Smith, pleased with his ​pupil's aptitude. "Well, on that table stands Professor Thomson's delicate and wonderful galvanometer. On that instrument a ray of light, reflected from a tiny mirror suspended to a magnet, travels along a scale and indicates the resistance to the passage of the current along the cable by the deflection of the magnet, which is marked by the course of this speck of light. Now, d' you understand that, Robin?"

"I—I 'm afraid not quite, sir."

"Well, no matter," rejoined Smith, with a laugh. "At all events you can understand that if that speck of light keeps within bounds—on its index—all is going well, but if it travels beyond the index—bolts out of bounds—an escape of the electric current is taking place somewhere in the cable, or what we call a fault has occurred."

"Ah, indeed," exclaimed Robin, casting a serious look at the cable as it rose from the after-tank, ran smoothly over its line of conducting wheels, dropped over the stern of the ship and glided into the sea like an an endless snake of stealthy habits. "And what," he added, with a sudden look of awe, "if the cable should break?"

"Why, it would go to the bottom, of course," replied Smith, "and several hearts would break along with it. You see these two gentlemen conversing near the companion-hatch?"

​"Yes."

"One is the chief of the electricians; the other the chief of the engineers. Their hearts would probably break, for their position is awfully responsible. Then my heart would break, I know, for I feel it swelling at the horrible suggestion; and your heart would break, Robin, I think, for you are a sympathetic donkey, and couldn't help yourself. Then you see that stout man on the bridge—that 's Captain Anderson—well, his heart would—no—perhaps it wouldn't, for he 's a sailor, and you know a sailor's heart is too tough to break, but it would get a pretty stiff wrench. And you see that gentleman looking at the paying-out gear so earnestly?"

"What—Cyrus Field?" said Robin.

"Yes; well, his heart and the Atlantic Cable are united, so as a matter of course the two would snap together."

Now, while Smith and his young assistant were conversing thus facetio-scientifically, the electricians on duty in the testing-room were watching with silent intensity the indications on their instruments. Suddenly, at 3.15 a.m., when exactly eighty-four miles of cable had been laid out, he who observed the galvanometer saw the speck of light glide to the end of the scale, and vanish!

If a speck of fire had been seen to glide through the keyhole of the powder magazine it could ​scarcely have created greater consternation than did the disappearance of that light! The commotion in the testing-room spread instantly to every part of the ship; the whole staff of electricians was at once roused, and soon afterwards the engines of the Great Eastern were slowed and stopped, while, with bated breath and anxious looks, men whispered to each other that there was "a fault in the cable."

A fault! If the cable had committed a mortal sin they could scarcely have looked more horrified. Nevertheless there was ground for anxiety, for this fault, as in moral faults, indicated something that might end in destruction.

After testing the cable for some time by signalling to the shore, M. de Sauty concluded that the fault was of a serious character, and orders were at once given to prepare the picking-up apparatus at the bow for the purpose of drawing the cable back into the ship until the defective portion should be reached and cut out.

"O what a pity!" sighed Robin, when he understood what was going to be done, and the feeling, if not the words, was shared by every one on board with more or less intelligence and intensity; but there were veterans of submarine telegraphy who spoke encouragingly and treated the incident as a comparatively small matter.

​Two men-of-war, the Terrible and the Sphinx, had been appointed to accompany and aid the Great Eastern on her important mission. A gun was fired and signals were made to acquaint these with what had occurred while the fires were being got up in the boilers of the picking-up machinery.

Electricians as well as doctors differ, it would seem, among themselves, for despite their skill and experience there was great difference of opinion in the minds of those on board the big ship as to the place where the fault lay. Some thought it was near the shore, and probably at the splice of the shore-end with the main cable. Others calculated, from the indications given by the tests, that it was perhaps twenty or forty or sixty miles astern. One of the scientific gentlemen held that it was not very far from the ship, while another gentleman, who was said to be much experienced in "fault"-finding, asserted that it was not more than nine or ten miles astern.

While the doctors were thus differing, the practical engineers were busy making the needful preparations for picking-up—an operation involving great risk of breaking the cable, and requiring the utmost delicacy of treatment, as may be easily understood, for, while the cable is being payed out the strain on it is comparatively small, whereas when it is being picked up, there is not only the ​extra strain caused by stoppage, and afterwards by hauling in, but there is the risk of sudden risings of the ship's stern on the ocean swell, which might at any moment snap the thin line like a piece of packthread.

The first difficulty and the great danger was to pass the cable from the stern to the bow, and to turn the ship round, so as to enable them to steam up to the cable while hauling it in. Iron chains were lashed firmly to the cable at the stern, and secured to a wire-rope carried round the outside of the ship to the picking-up apparatus at the bows. The cable was down in 400 fathoms of water when the paying-out ceased, and nice management was required to keep the ship steady, as she had now no steerage-way; and oh! with what intense interest and curiosity and wonder did Robin Wright regard the varied and wonderful mechanical appliances with which the whole affair was accomplished!

Then the cable was cut, and, with its shackles and chains, allowed to go plump into the sea! Robin's heart and soul seemed to go along with it, for, not expecting the event, he fancied it was lost for ever.

"Gone!" he exclaimed, with a look of horror.

"Not quite," said Jim Slagg, who stood at Robin's elbow regarding the operations with a quiet look of intelligence. "Don't you see, Robin, that a ​wire-rope fit a'most to hold the big ship herself is holdin' on to it."

"Of course; how stupid I am!" said Robin, with a great sigh of relief; "I see it now, going round to the bows."

At first the rope was let run, to ease the strain while the ship swung round; then it was brought in over the pulley at the bow, the paddles moved, and the return towards Ireland was begun. The strain, although great, was far from the breaking point, but the speed was very slow—not more than a mile an hour being considered safe in the process of picking-up.

"Patience, Robin," observed Mr. Smith, as he passed on his way to the cabin, "is a virtue much needed in the laying of cables. We have now commenced a voyage at the rate of one mile an hour, which will not terminate till we get back to Owld Ireland, unless we find the fault."

Patience, however, was not destined to be so severely tried. All that day and all night the slow process went on. Meanwhile—as the cable was not absolutely unworkable, despite the fault—the chief engineer, Mr. Canning, sent a message to Mr. Glass in Ireland, asking him to send out the Hawk steamer, in order that he might return in her to search for the defect in the shore-end of the cable, for if that were found he purposed sacrificing ​the eighty odd miles already laid down, making a new splice with the shore-end, and starting afresh. A reply was received from Mr. Glass, saying that the Hawk would be sent out immediately.

Accordingly, about daybreak of the 25th the Hawk appeared, but her services were not required, for, about nine that morning, when the cable was coming slowly in and being carefully examined foot by foot—nay, inch by inch—the fault was discovered, and joy took the place of anxiety. Ten and a quarter miles of cable had been picked up when the fault came inboard, and a strange unaccountable fault it turned out to be—namely, a small piece of wire which had been forced through the covering of the cable into the gutta-percha so as to injure, but not quite to destroy, the insulation. How such a piece of wire could have got into the tank was a mystery, but the general impression was that it had been carried there by accident and forced into the coil by the pressure of the paying out machinery as the cable flew through the jockey-wheels.

Signals were at once made to the fleet that the enemy had been discovered. Congratulatory signals were returned. The fault was cut out and a new splice made. The Hawk was sent home again. The big ship's bow was turned once more to the west, and the rattling of the machinery, as the ​restored and revived cable passed over the stern, went merrily as a marriage bell.

The detention had been only about twelve hours; the great work was going on again as favourably as before the mishap occurred, and about half a mile had been payed out, when—blackness of despair—the electric current suddenly ceased, and communication with the shore was ended altogether!

IN WHICH JOYS, HOPES, ALARMS, GHOSTS, AND LEVIATHANS
TAKE PART.

That man who can appreciate the feelings of one who has become suddenly bankrupt may understand the mental condition of those on board the Great Eastern when they were thus tossed from the pinnacle of joyous hope to the depths of dark despair. It was not, however, absolute despair. The cable was utterly useless indeed—insensate—but it was not broken. There was still the blessed possibility of picking it up and bringing it to life again.

That, however, was scarcely an appreciable comfort at the moment, and little could be seen or heard on board the Great Eastern save elongated faces and gloomy forebodings.

Ebenezer Smith and his confrères worked in the testing-room like Trojans. They connected and disconnected; they put in stops and took them out; they intensified currents to the extent of their anxieties; they reduced them to the measure of ​their despair—nothing would do. The cable was apparently dead. In these circumstances picking up was the only resource, and the apparatus for that purpose was again rigged up in the bows.

In the meantime the splice which had been made to connect the tanks was cut and examined, and the portions coiled in the fore and main tanks were found to be perfect—alive and well—but the part between ship and shore was speechless.

So was poor Robin Wright! After Mr. Field—whose life-hope seemed to be doomed to disappointment—the blow was probably felt most severely by Robin. But Fortune seemed to be playfully testing the endurance of these cable-layers at that time, for, when the despair was at its worst, the tell-tale light reappeared on the index of the galvanometer, without rhyme or reason, calling forth a shout of joyful surprise, and putting an abrupt stoppage to the labours of the pickers-up!

They never found out what was the cause of that fault; but that was a small matter, for, with restored sensation in the cable-nerve, renewed communication with the shore, and resumed progress of the ship towards her goal, they could afford to smile at former troubles.

Joy and sorrow, shower and sunshine, fair weather and foul, was at first the alternating portion of the cable-layers.

​"I can't believe my eyes!" said Robin to Jim Slagg, as they stood next day, during a leisure hour, close to the whirling wheels and never-ending cable, about 160 miles of which had been laid by that time. "Just look at the Terrible and Sphinx; the sea is now so heavy that they are thumping into the waves, burying their bows in foam, while we are slipping along as steadily as a Thames steamer."

"That's true, sir," answered Slagg, whose admiration for our hero's enthusiastic and simple character increased as their intimacy was prolonged, and whose manner of address became proportionally more respectful, "She 's a steady little duck is the Great Eastern! she has got the advantage of length, you see, over other ships, an' rides on two waves at a time, instead of wobblin' in between 'em; but I raither think she'd roll a bit if she was to go along in the trough of the seas. Don't the cable go out beautiful, too—just like a long-drawn eel with the consumption! Did you hear how deep the captain said it was hereabouts?"

"Yes, I heard him say it was a little short of two miles deep, so it has got a long way to sink before it reaches its oozy bed."

"How d'ee know what sort o' bed it 's got to lie on?" asked Slagg.

"Because," said Robin, "the whole Atlantic where the cable is to lie has been carefully sounded long ​ago, and it is found that the ocean-bed here, which looks so like mud, is composed of millions of beautiful shells, so small that they cannot be distinguished by the naked eye. Of course, they have no creatures in them. It would seem that these shell-fish go about the ocean till they die, and then fall to the bottom like rain."^[1]

"You don't say so!" returned Slagg, who, being utterly uneducated, received suchlike information with charming surprise, and regarded Robin as a very mine of knowledge. "Wellnow, that beats cock-fighting. But, I say, how is it that the electricity works through the cable? I heerd one o' your electrical fellers explaining to a landlubber t'other evenin' that electricity could only run along wires when the circuit was closed, by which he meant to say that it would fly from a battery and travel along a wire ever so far, if only that wire was to turn right round and run back to the same battery again. Now, if that 's so, seems to me that when you 've got your cable to Newfoundland you 'll have to run another one back again to Ireland before it 'll work."

"Ah, Slagg, that would indeed be the case," returned Robin, "were it not that we have ​discovered the important fact that the earth—the round globe on which we stand—itself acts the part of a grand conductor. So we have only to send down earth-wires at the two ends—one into the earth of Ireland, the other into the earth of Newfoundland, and straightway the circuit is closed, and the electricity generated in our batteries passes through the cable from earth to earth."

"Robin," said Slagg doubtingly, "d'you expect me for to believe that?"

"Indeed I do," said Robin simply.

"Then you 're greener than I took you for. No offence meant, but it 's my opinion some o' these 'cute electricians has bin tryin' the width of your swallow."

"No, you are mistaken," returned Robin earnestly; "I have read the fact in many books. The books differ in their opinions as to the causes and nature of the fact, but not as to the fact itself."

It was evident that Robin looked upon this as an unanswerable argument, and his friend seemed perplexed.

"Well, I don' know how it is," he said, after a pause, "but I do believe that this here wonderful electricity is fit for a'most anything, an' that we 'll have it revoloosionising everything afore long—I do indeed."

The intelligent reader who has noted the gigantic ​strides which we have recently made in electric lighting of late will observe that Slagg, unwittingly, had become almost prophetic at this time.

"We're going along splendidly now," said Mr. Smith, coming up to Robin that evening while he was conversing with Slagg, who immediately retired.—"Who is that youth? He seems very fond of you; I 've observed that he makes up to you whenever you chance to be on deck together."

"He is one of the steward's lads, sir; I met him accidentally in the train; but I suspect the fondness is chiefly on my side. He was very kind to me when I first came on board, and I really think he is an intelligent, good fellow—a strange mixture of self-confidence and humility. Sometimes, to hear him speak, you would think he knew everything; but at the same time he is always willing—indeed anxious—to listen and learn. He is a capital fighter too."

Here Robin related the battle in the boys' berth, when Slagg thrashed Stumps, whereat Mr. Smith was much amused.

"So he seems a peculiar lad—modest, impudent, teachable, kindly, and warlike! Come below now, Robin, I have some work for you. Did you make the calculations I gave you yesterday?"

"Yes, sir, and they corresponded exactly with your own."

​"Good. Go fetch my little note-book: I left it in the grand saloon on the furthest aft seat, port side."

Robin found the magnificent saloon of the big ship ringing with music and conversation. Joy over the recent restoration to health of the ailing cable, the comfortable stability of the ship in rough weather, and the satisfactory progress then being made, all contributed to raise the spirits of every one connected with the great work, so that, while some were amusing themselves at the piano, others were scattered about in little groups, discussing the profounder mysteries of electric science, or prophesying the speedy completion of the enterprise, while a few were speculating on the probability of sport in Newfoundland, or planning out journeys through the United States.

"There's lots of game, I'm told, in Newfoundland," said one of the youthful electricians, whose ruling passion—next to the subtle fluid—was the gun.

"So I've been told," replied an elder and graver comrade. "Polar bears are quite common in the woods, and it is said that walrus are fond of roosting in the trees."

"Yes, I have heard so," returned the youthful sportsman, who, although young, was not to be caught with chaff, "and the fishing, I hear, is also ​splendid. Salmon and cod are found swarming in the rivers by those who care for mild occupation, while really exciting sport is to be had in the great lakes of the interior, where there are plenty of fresh-water whales that take the fly."

"The swan, you mean," said another comrade. "The fly that is most killing among Newfoundland whales is a swan fastened whole to a shark hook—though a small boat's anchor will do if you haven't the right tackle."

"Come, don't talk nonsense, but let's have a song," said a brother electrician to the sporting-youth.

"I never sing," he replied, "except when hurt, and then I sing out. But see, our best musician has just seated himself at the instrument."

"Don't talk shop, Nimrod; call it the piano."

Most of those present drew towards the musical corner, where Ebenezer Smith, having just entered the saloon in search of Robin, had been prevailed on to sit down and enliven the company. Robin, who had been delayed by difficulty in finding the notebook, stopped to listen.

Smith had a fair average voice and a vigorous manner.

"You wouldn't object to hear the cook's last?" asked Smith, running his fingers lightly over the keys.

​"Of course not—go on," chorused several voices.

"I had no idea," lisped a simple youth, who was one of a small party of young gentlemen interested in engineering and science, who had been accommodated with a passage,—"I had no idea that our cook was a poet as well as an admirable chef de cuisine."

"Oh, it's not our cook he means," explained the sporting electrician; "Mr. Smith refers to a certain sea-cook—or his son, I'm not sure which—who is chef des horse-marines."

"Is there a chorus?" asked one.

"Of course there is," replied Smith; "a sea-song without a chorus is like a kite without a tail—it is sure to fall flat, but the chorus is an old and well-known one—it is only the song that is new. Now then, clear your throats, gentlemen."

SONG—THE LOSS OF THE NANCY LEE.

I.

'Twas on a Friday morning that I went off,
⁠An' shipped in the Nancy Lee,
But that ship caught a cold and with one tremendous cough
⁠Went slap to the bottom of the sea, the sea, the sea—
⁠Went slap to the bottom of the sea.

Chorus.—Then the raging sea may roar,
⁠An' the stormy winds may blow,
⁠While we jolly sailor boys rattle up aloft,
⁠And the landlubbers lie down below, below, below;
⁠And the landlubbers lie down below.

​

II.

For wery nigh a century I lived with the crabs,
⁠An' danced wi' the Mermaids too,
An' drove about the Ocean in mother o' pearl cabs,
⁠An' dwelt in a cavern so blue, so blue, so blue;
⁠An' dwelt in a cavern so blue.
⁠Chorus.—Then the raging sea, etc.

III.

I soon forgot the sorrows o' the world above
⁠In the pleasures o' the life below;
Queer fish they made up to me the want o' human love.
⁠As through the world o' waters I did go, did go, did go;
⁠As through the world o' waters I did go.
⁠Chorus.—Then the raging sea, etc.

IV.

One day a horrid grampus caught me all by the nose,
⁠An' swung me up to the land,—
An' I never went to sea again, as everybody knows,
⁠And as everybody well may understand, 'derstand, 'derstand,
⁠And as everybody well may understand.
⁠Chorus.—Then the raging sea, etc.

The plaudits with which this song was received were, it need scarcely be remarked, due more to the vigour of the chorus and the enthusiasm of the audience than to intrinsic merit. Even Robin Wright was carried off his legs for the moment, and, modest though he was, broke in at the chorus with such effect—his voice being shrill and clear—that he unintentionally outyelled all the rest, and would have fled in consternation from the saloon if he had not been caught and forcibly detained by the ​sporting electrician, who demanded what right he had to raise his steam-whistle in that fashion.

"But I say, young Wright," he added in a lower tone, leading our hero aside, "what's this rumour I hear about a ghost in the steward's cabin?"

"Oh! it is nothing to speak of," replied Robin, with a laugh. "The lad they call Stumps got a fright—that's all."

"But that 's enough. Let us hear about it."

"Well, I suppose you know," said Robin, "that there's a ghost in the Great Eastern."

"No, I don't know it from personal experience, but I have heard a report to that effect."

"Well, I was down in Jim Slagg's berth, having a chat with him about the nature of electric currents—for he has a very inquiring mind,—and somehow we diverged to ghosts, and began to talk of the ghost of the Great Eastern.

"'I don't believe in the Great Eastern ghost—no, nor in ghosts of any kind,' said Stumps, who was sitting near us eating a bit of cheese.

"'But I believe in 'em,' said the boy Jeff, who was seated on the other side of the table, and looked at us so earnestly that we could scarce help smiling—though we didn't feel in a smiling humour at the time, for it was getting dark, and we had got to talking in low tones and looking anxiously over our shoulders, you know—

​"'Oh yes, I know,' replied the sportsman, with a laugh; 'I have shuddered and grue-oo-'d many a time over ghost-stories. Well?'

"'I don't believe in 'em, Jeff. Why do you?' asked Stumps, in a scoffing tone.

"'Because I hear one every night a'most when I go down into the dark places below to fetch things. There's one particular spot where the ghost goes tap-tap-tapping continually.'

"'Fiddlededee,' said Stumps.

"'Come down, and you shall hear it for yourself,' said Jeff.

"Now, they say that Stumps is a coward, though he boasts a good deal—."

"You may say," interrupted the sportsman, "that Stumps is a coward because he boasts a good deal. Boasting is often a sign of cowardice—though not always."

"Well," continued Robin, "being ashamed to draw back, I suppose, he agreed to accompany Jeff."

"'Won't you come too, Slagg?' said Stumps.

"'No; I don't care a button for ghosts. Besides, I 'm too busy, but Wright will go. There, don't bother me!' said Jim.

"I noticed, as I went last out of the room, that Slagg rose quickly and pulled a sheet off one of the beds. Afterwards, looking back, I saw him slip ​out and run down the passage in the opposite direction. I suspected he was about some mischief, but said nothing.

"It was getting dark, as I have said, though not dark enough for lighting the lamps, and in some corners below it was as dark as midnight. To one of these places Jeff led us.

"'Mind how you go now,' whispered Jeff; 'it 's here somewhere, and there 's a hole too—look out—there it is!'

"'What! the ghost?' whispered Stumps, beginning to feel uneasy. To say truth, I began to feel uneasy myself without well knowing why. At that moment I fell over something, and came down with a crash that shook Stumps's nerves completely out of order.

"'I say, let 's go back,' he muttered in a tremulous voice.

"'No, no,' whispered Jeff, seizing Stumps by the arm with a sudden grip that made him give a short yelp, 'we are at the place now. It 's in this dark passage. Listen!

"We all held our breath and listened. For a few seconds we heard nothing, but presently a slight tapping was heard.

"'I 've heard,' whispered Jeff in a low tone, 'that when he big ship was buildin', one o' the plate-riveters disappeared in some hole between the two ​skins o' the ship hereabouts, and his comrades, not bein' able to find him, were obliged at last to rivet him in, which they did so tight that even his ghost could not get out, so it goes on tappin', as you hear, an' is likely to go on tappin' for ever,'

"'Bosh!' whispered Stumps; thus politely intimating his disbelief, but I felt him trembling all over notwithstanding.

"At that moment we saw a dim shadowy whitish object at the other end of the dark passage. 'Wha'—wha'—what 's that?' said I.

"Stumps gasped. I heard his teeth chattering, and I think his knees were knocking together. Jeff made no sound, and it was too dark to see his face. Suddenly the object rushed at us. There was no noise of footsteps—only a muffled sound and a faint hissing. I stood still, unable to move. So did Jeff. I felt the hair of my head rising. Stumps gasped again—then turned and fled. The creature, whatever it was, brushed past us with a hideous laugh. I guessed at once that it was Jim Slagg, but evidently Stumps didn't, for he uttered an awful yell that would have roused the whole ship if she had been of an ordinary size; at the same moment he tripped and fell on the thing that had upset me, and the ghost, leaping over him, vanished from our sight.

"To my surprise, on returning to our cabin, we ​found Slagg as we had left him, with both hands on his forehead poring over his book. I was almost as much surprised to see Jeff sit down and laugh heartily.—Now, what do you think it could have been?"

"It was Slagg, of course," answered the sporting electrician.

"Yes, but what causes the tapping?"

"Oh, that is no doubt some little trifle—a chip of wood, or bit of wire left hanging loose, which shakes about when the ship heaves."

A sudden tramping of feet overhead brought this ghostly discussion to an abrupt close, and caused every man in the saloon to rush on deck with a terrible feeling in his heart that something had gone wrong.

"Not broken?" asked an electrician with a pale face on reaching the deck.

"Oh no, sir," replied an engineer, with an anxious look, "not quite so bad as that, but a whale has taken a fancy to inspect us, and he is almost too attentive."

So it was. A large Greenland whale was playing about the big ship, apparently under the impression that she was a giant of his own species, and it had passed perilously close to the cable.

A second time it came up, rolling high above the waves. It went close past the stern—rose again ​

TWO LEVIATHANS AT THE CABLE.— Page 100.

​and dived with a gentle flop of its great tail, which, if it had touched the cable, would have cut it like a thread. At that trying moment, as they saw its huge back glittering in the moonlight, the hearts of the helpless spectators appeared absolutely to stand still. When the monster dived its side even touched the cable, but did not damage it. Being apparently satisfied by that time that the ship was not a friend, the whale finally disappeared in the depths of its ocean home.

TELLS OF GREAT EFFORTS AND FAILURES AND GRAND SUCCESS.

Thus happily and smoothly all things went, with little bursts of anxiety and little touches of alarm, just sufficient, as it were, to keep up the spirits of all, till the morning of the 30th July. But on that morning an appearance of excitement in the testing-room told that something had again gone wrong. Soon the order was given to slow the engines, then to stop them!

The bursting of a thunder-clap, the explosion of a powder-magazine, could not have more effectually awakened the slumberers than this abrupt stoppage of the ship's engines. Instantly all the hatchways poured forth anxious inquirers.

"Another fault," was the reply to such.

"O dear!" said some.

"Horrible!" said others.

"Not so bad as a break," sighed the hopeful spirits.

"It is bad enough," said the chief electrician, "for we have found dead earth."

​By this the chief meant to say that insulation had been completely destroyed, and that the whole current of electricity was escaping into the sea.

About 716 miles had been payed out at the time, and as signals had till then been regularly received from the shore, it was naturally concluded that the fault lay near to the ship.

"Now then, get along," said an engineer to one of the cable-men; "you 'll have to cut, and splice, and test, while we are getting ready the tackle to pick up."

"I don't like that cuttin' o' the cable, Bill," said one of the sailors, as he went forward, "it seems dangerous, it do."

"No more do I, Dick," replied his mate; "I feel as if it never could be rightly spliced again."

"Why, bless you, boys," said a cable-man near them, "cables is used to that now, like eels to bein' skinned; and so are we, for that matter. We think nothin' of it."

Clearly the cable -man was right, for, while the picking-up apparatus was being got ready, the cable was cut in no fewer than three places, in order to test the coils that lay in the tanks. These being found all right, the picking-up was begun with anxious care. The moment of greatest danger was when the big ship was swinging round. For a few but apparently endless moments the cable had to ​bear the strain, and became rigid like a bar of steel. Then it was got in over the bows, where all was bustle, and noise, and smoke, as the picking-up machinery panted and rattled.

All day the work went on. Night descended, but still the cable was coming in slowly, unwillingly,—now jerkily, as if half inclined to yield, anon painfully, as if changing its mind, until the strain was equal to two and a half tons, A row of lanterns lighted it, and the men employed watched and handled it carefully to detect the "fault," while the clattering wheels played harsh music.

"We'll never find it," growled an impatient young electrician.

As if to rebuke him for his want of faith, the "fault" came in then and there—at 9.50 p.m., ship's time.

"Ah!" said Mr. Field, whose chief characteristic was an unwavering faith in ultimate success, "I knew we should find it ere long. I have often known cables to stop working for two hours, no one knew why, and then begin again."

"Well now, Mr. Wright, it floors me altogether does this here talkin' by electricity."

The man who made this remark to our hero was one who could not have been easily "floored" by any other means than electricity. He was a huge blacksmith—a stalwart fellow who had just been ​heaving the sledge-hammer with the seeming powers of Vulcan himself, and who chanced to be near Robin when he paused to rest and mop the streaming perspiration from his brow, while a well-matched, brother took his place at the anvil.

"You see," he continued, "I can't make out nohow what the electricity does when it gits through the cable from Ireland to Noofun'land. Of course it don't actooally speak, you know—no more does it whistle, I suppose; an' even if it did I don't see as we 'd be much the wiser. What do it do, Mr. Wright? You seem to be well up in these matters, an' not above explainin' of 'em to the likes o' us as ha'n't got much edication."

Few things pleased Robin more than being asked to impart what knowledge he possessed, or to make plain subjects that were slightly complex. He was not always successful in his attempts at elucidation, partly because some subjects were too complex to simplify, and partly because some intellects were obtuse, but he never failed to try.

"You must know," he replied, with that earnest look which was apt to overspread his face when about to explain a difficulty, "that a piece of common iron can be converted into a magnet by electrifying it, and it can be unconverted just as fast by removing the electricity. Well, suppose I ​have a bit of iron in America, with an electric battery in Ireland, or vice versa—."

"W'ot 's wicey wersa, Mr. Wright ?"

"Oh, it means the terms being changed—turned the other way, you know—back to the front, as it were—in short, I mean the battery being in America and the bit of iron in Ireland."

"Well, well, who 'd a thought there was so much in wicey wersa; but go on, Mr. Wright."

"Now, you must suppose," continued Robin, "that a needle, like the mariner's compass needle, hangs beside my bit of iron, close to it, and that a wire, or conductor of electricity, connects the iron with my electric battery in Ireland. Well, that makes a magnet of it, and the suspended needle, being attracted, sticks to it. Then I disconnect the wire from my battery by touching a handle, the bit of iron ceases to be a magnet, and the needle wags free. Again I connect the battery, and the needle flies to the remagnetised bit of iron. Thus, as fast as I choose, I can make the needle wag, and by a simple arrangement we can make it wag right or left, so many beats right or left, or alternately, representing letters. By varying the beats we vary the letters, and thus spell out our messages. Now, do you understand it?"

"Well, I aint quite sure that I does," replied Vulcan; "I 've got a hazy notion that by touchin' ​and removin' the touch from a conductor, connecting and disconnecting wires and batteries, you can make electricity flow just as you let on or stop water by turnin' a stopcock—"

"Not exactly," interrupted Robin, "because, you see, electricity does not really flow, not being a substance."

"Not a substance, sir! w'y, w'ot is it then?"

"Like light and sound, it is merely an effect, an influence, a result," answered Robin. "We only use the word flow, and talk of electricity as a fluid, for convenience' sake."

"Well, w'otever it is or isn't," continued the puzzled Vulcan, gazing at vacancy for a few seconds, "when you 've set it agoin'—or set agoin' the things as sets it agoin'—you make a suspended needle wag, and when you stop it you make the needle stop waggin', and by the way in which that there needle wags you can spell out the letters o' the alphabit—so many wags to the right bein' one letter, so many wags to the left bein' another letter, an' so on,—so that, what between the number o' wags an' the direction o' the waggin's, you—you come for to—there, I 'm lost again, an' I must go in for another spell wi' the sledge, so we 'll have to tackle the subject another time, Mr. Wright."

Thus speaking, Vulcan seized the ponderous hammer in his powerful grasp and proceeded to ​beat form into a mass of glowing metal with much greater ease than he had been able to thump telegraphy into his own brain.

In the discovery of the "fault" and the cutting out of the injured part of the cable, twenty-six hours were lost. During all that time Captain Anderson was obliged to remain on deck, while the minds and bodies of the engineers and electricians were subjected to a severe strain for the same period. They had scarcely begun to breathe freely again, and to congratulate each other on being able to continue the voyage, when they received another shock of alarm by the cable suddenly flying off the drum, while it was being transferred from the picking-up machinery in the bow to the paying-out arrangements in the stern. Before the machinery could be stopped, some fathoms of cable had become entangled among the wheels and destroyed. This part having been cut out, however, and new splices made, the paying-out process was resumed.

"I 'll turn in now and have a snooze, Robin," said Ebenezer Smith, "and you had better do the same; you look tired."

This was indeed true, for not a man or boy in the ship took a more anxious interest in the cable than did our little hero. He had begun to regard it as a living creature, and to watch over it, and dream ​about it, as if it were a dear friend in extreme danger. The enthusiastic boy was actually becoming careworn and thin, for he not only performed all the duties required of him with zealous application, but spent his leisure, and much of the time that should have been devoted to rest, in the careful study of his idol—intensely watching it and all that was in the remotest way connected with it.

"You 're a goose," said Stumps, in passing, when he heard Robin decline to retire as Smith had advised him.

"It may be so, and if so, Stumps, I shall continue to cackle a little longer on deck while they are examining the fault."

That examination, when finished, produced a considerable sensation. The process was conducted in private. The condemned portion was cut in junks and tested, until the faulty junk was discovered. This was untwisted until the core was laid bare, and when about a foot of it had been so treated, the cause of evil was discovered, drawing from the onlookers an exclamation of horror rather than surprise, as they stood aghast, for treachery seemed to have been at work!

"An enemy in the ship!" murmured one.

"What ship without an enemy?" thought another.

That mischief had been intended was obvious, ​for a piece of iron wire, bright as if cut with nippers at one end and broken off short at the other, had been driven right through the centre of the cable, so as to touch the inner wires—thus forming a leak, or conductor, into the sea. There could be no doubt that it had not got there by accident; neither had it been driven there during the making or shipping of the cable, for in that case the testings for continuity would have betrayed its presence before the starting of the expedition. The piece of wire, too, was the same size as that which formed the protecting cover, and it was of the exact diameter of the cable. There was also the mark of a cut on the Manilla hemp, where the wire had entered. It could have been done only by one of the men who were at work in the tank at the time the portion went over, and, strange to say, this was the same gang which had been at work there when the previous "fault" occurred!

"Call all the men aft," was the order that quickly followed this discovery.

The piece of cable was handed to them, and they were allowed to examine it in silence. They did so in great surprise, mingled with indignation.

"It's bin done a'purpose, an' driven in by a skilful hand," said one.

"You're right, Joe," said another.

"I know," whispered a third, "that one of the ​men expressed satisfaction when the last fault occurred, an' I've heard say that we 've got enemies to the makers o' the cable aboard."

The man thus darkly referred to, whoever he was, of course looked as innocent and as indignant as the most virtuous among them; the guilt, therefore, could not be brought home to him. Woe betide him if it had been, for there was a serious talk of lynching some one among the wrathful men, each of whom was now subject to suspicion.

In these trying circumstances, the chief engineer accepted an offer made by the gentlemen in the ship, to take turn about in superintending the men at work in the tank paying out the cable.

"It's not pleasant, of course," replied one of the men, speaking for the rest, "but we feel it to be justifiable, as well as necessary, and are very glad the plan has been adopted."

Once more the big ship went merrily on her way, and the great cable went down to its ocean bed so smoothly and regularly, that men began to talk of speedy arrival at Heart's Content—their destination in Newfoundland—which was now only about 600 miles distant; but their greatest troubles still lay before them. About eight o'clock in the morning of 2d August another bad fault was reported, and they had once again to resort to the wearisome process of picking up.

​At first all seemed about to go well. A gale was indeed blowing at the time, but that did not much affect the colossal ship. The cable was cut, fastened to its iron rope, passed to the bow, and got in over the pulleys. Then, and very slowly, it was drawn on board. When a mile or so had been recovered, the gearing of one of the engines got a little out of order, and the process had to be temporarily stopped; then something went wrong with the boilers, but soon these difficulties were removed. Immediately after, the Great Eastern drifted so that it was impossible to prevent the cable from chafing against her bows. Equally impossible was it to go astern, lest the strain should be too great. Then the wind suddenly shifted, making matters worse. Suddenly the chain shackle and wire-rope attached to the cable came in over the wheel at the bows with considerable violence. Another moment and the cable parted, flew through the stoppers, and, with one bound, flashed into the sea and disappeared!

Now, at last, the fatal climax so much dreaded had arrived. The days and nights of anxious labour had been spent in vain. The cable was lost, and with it went not only hundreds of thousands of pounds, but the hopes of hundreds of thousands of people, whose sanguine expectations of success were thus rudely dispelled.

​Need it be said that something very like despair reigned for the moment on board the Great Eastern?

Most of the gentlemen on board—never dreaming of catastrophe—were at luncheon, when Mr. Canning entered the saloon with a look that caused every one to start.

"It is all over!—it is gone!" he said, and hastened to his cabin.

Mr. Field, with the composure of faith and courage though very pale, entered the saloon immediately after, and confirmed the chief engineer's statement.

"The cable has parted," he said, "and has gone overboard."

From the chiefs down even to Stumps and his fraternity all was blank dismay! As for our hero Robin Wright, he retired to his cabin, flung himself on his bed, and sobbed as though his heart would break.

But such a state of things could not last. Men's spirits may be stunned and crushed, but they are seldom utterly overwhelmed so long as life endures.

Recovering from the shock, Mr. Canning set about the process of grappling for the lost cable with persistent energy. But fishing in water two and a half miles deep is no easy matter. ​Nevertheless, it was done. Again and again, and over again, were two monster hooks in the shape of grapnels let down to the bottom of the sea, with an iron rope for a line, and the Great Eastern for a float!

The plan, of course, was to go back a few miles on their course and then drag across the known position of the lost treasure.

We say known, because good observations had fortunately been obtained by Captain Anderson just before the accident.

Two hours did the grapnels descend before they reached the bottom of the sea! All night did the cable-layers fish, with the characteristic patience of fishermen, but did not get a nibble. Towards morning, however, there was a decided bite, and the line became taut.

"Got him!" exclaimed an enthusiast eagerly.

"Don't be too sure," replied a philosopher cautiously.

"It may be a bit of wreck," suggested Ebenezer Smith, who was a natural doubter.

"Or a whale, or the great sea-serpent," said the sporting electrician, who was 'everything by turns and nothing long.'

"We shall very soon know," remarked a matter-of-fact engineer. "If it is a loose object the strain will decrease as it nears the surface, but if it be the cable the strain will certainly increase, because its ​weight will be greater the more of it we lift off the bottom."

Earnestly did every one regard the dynamometer which told the exact amount of strain on the iron fishing-line, and to their joy the strain increased until the object caught had been raised three-quarters of a mile from the bottom. Then a swivel gave way, and the cable went back to its ocean-bed. But those plucky engineers were not to be overcome by a first failure. Having started with five miles of fishing-line, they proceed at once to make a second attempt.

"Oh, I do hope they will hook it again!" said Robin Wright.

"And so they will," said Ebenezer Smith.

And so they did. Late in the afternoon of the Monday following, their fish was again hooked and raised a full mile from the bottom, when another swivel gave way, and down it went a second time!

The fishing-line was now getting short. It behoved them to act with more caution. New bolts were put in each shackle and swivel, and the capstan was increased in diameter, being belted with thick plates of iron. To effect these alterations the forges had to be erected on deck, and at night these cast a lurid glare on the busy workers, bringing out every near object in vivid relief against the ebony background of space behind, while they made ​preparations for a third cast of the fishing-line. The cast was made successfully, it was thought, but one of the grapnels had caught the line with one of its flukes, so that it could not catch anything else, and the result was—nothing.

A fourth attempt was then made. It was to be the last. The fishing-line seemed too weak, and its frequent breakings had reduced it so much that other chains had to be attached to it. With this thing of shreds and patches the cable was once more hooked and brought up nearly eight hundred fathoms, when the line gave way once more, and the cable went down for the last time.

Nothing more could be done. The Great Eastern turned her large bows to the east and steered grandly, though sadly, away for old England.

But don't imagine, good reader, that these cable-layers were beaten. They were baffled, indeed, for that year (1865), but not conquered. Cyrus Field had resolved that the thing should be done—and done it was the following year; for the laying of the cable had been so nearly a success, that great capitalists, such as Brassey, Gooch, Barclay, Campbell, Pender, and others, at once came forward. Among these were the contractors, Glass and Elliot, who agreed not only to make and lay a new cable, but to pick up and complete the old one. Cyrus Field himself, besides energising like Hercules to push ​the matter on, was one of ten subscribers who each contributed £10,000. Thus £230,500 were privately subscribed before a prospectus was issued.

Our little hero was at the laying of that (1866) cable, when the same great ship, with the same captain and most of the engineers and electricians who had gone out on the previous voyage, landed the end of the 1820-mile rope on the shores of Newfoundland, on Friday, 27th July. He cheered with the rest in wild enthusiasm when the Great Eastern dropped anchor in "Heart's Content." He accompanied Captain Anderson and the officers of the fleet when they went in a body to the little church there, to thank God for the successful completion of the great enterprise. He was present when the big ship, having received from other ships 8000 tons of coal, and some six hundred miles of the old cable, went back to mid-ocean to grapple for the lost cable of 1865. He assisted and watched with the deepest interest the amazing efforts of scientific and mechanical power put forth in the mere matter of dragging for the cable from the bottom, and observed with reverence, amounting almost to awe, the great moving spirit of the whole affair, the indomitable Mr. Field, as he went to the bow and sat on the rope to feel the quiver which told him it was dragging the bottom of the sea two miles below. He was present, with blazing cheeks and eyes and ​bated breath, when, on the 17th of August, the cable was caught, dragged to the surface, and actually seen, and broke and sank again as deep as ever—though not so deep as the hearts of those who saw it go! He shared in the weary delays that followed, and in the final triumph when the cable was fairly caught and at last brought on board, and carried to the testing-room, amid intense excitement, lest it should prove to have been damaged by its rough treatment, and his voice helped to swell the roar of enthusiastic cheering that greeted the announcement that the old cable was still alive!

But all this we must leave, and carry the reader back to old England faster than the Great Eastern could have rushed—ay, faster than the message on the flashing cable itself could have sped, for mind is more subtle than matter, and thought is swifter than even the Atlantic Telegraph.

HOME!

"At last!" exclaimed Robin, bursting into his old home and seizing his mother in his arms.

Robin had just returned home after the laying of the 1866 Atlantic Cable, as briefly narrated in the last chapter.

It may be said with some truth that the old home became, during the next few days, a private lunatic asylum, for its inmates went mildly mad with joy.

Chief among the lunatics was uncle Rik, the retired sea-captain. That madman's case, however, was not temporary derangement, like the others'. It was confirmed insanity, somewhat intensified just then by the nephew's return.

"So, young man," he said, one evening at supper, when the family traveller was dilating to open-eyed-and-mouthed listeners, "you actually believe that these cables are goin' to work?"

"Of course I do, uncle. They are working now, and have been working for many years."

​"Well, now, the gullibility o' some people is stupendous!" returned Rik. "Don't you know, Robin, that everything a'most works for a time, and then, sooner or later—usually sooner—the rediculous thing bursts up?

"But, uncle, you beg the question in classing submarine cables among ridiculous things. Besides, have not dozens of cables been working satisfactorily for many years, without showing signs of bursting up as yet?"

"Pooh! bah! boh!" replied uncle Rik, by which he meant to say that though convinced against his will he was of the same opinion still.

At that moment cousin Sam Shipton entered with an eager, excited look.

"It 's all settled," he said, taking Robin by the hand.

"What is settled?" asked Mrs. Wright, somewhat anxiously.

"Mother, don't be angry," said Robin, laying his hand on his mother's shoulder, and speaking tenderly, "I meant to have told you the moment I came in to-day, but uncle Rik with his argumentative spirit drove it and everything else except cables out of my head—"

"Well, but what is it?" interrupted Madge impatiently; "why do you keep us in suspense?"

"I have some prospect, mother, of being appointed ​to go with a telegraph-laying party to the East, but Sam is wrong when he says it is all settled. Whatever he may have to tell us, it is by no means settled until I have your and father's opinion."

"Well, you horribly good but ungrateful boy," returned Sam, "it is at least settled as far as I have do with it. I have made application at headquarters, and they are willing to take you on my recommendation. Moreover, I am myself going."

"You're joking, Sam!" exclaimed Robin, with a flush of joy; "I thought you had neither intention nor desire to go far from home."

"You thought wrong, Robin. I always had desire, and now have intention—and I go as second in command. So, Miss Mayland," he continued, turning to Madge, "I shan't be able to continue those electrical lectures which you were so fond of once, but have lately seemed to grow tired of."

Madge was at that tender age of budding womanhood when sensitive girls are apt to misunderstand a jest. She blushed, stammered something, then forced a laugh, and turned to speak to Robin; but Sam perceived that tears rose to her eyes, and he instantly sank in his own estimation to the condition of a loathsome reptile.

"Well, now, that is good news," cried Robin, applying himself to the viands on the table with renewed zest. "You cannot have the smallest ​objection or anxiety, mother, I should think, when you know I shall he under so able a guide."

"I have not yet thought it over, Robin."

"And you, father?"

"Go, my boy, and my blessing go with you," said Mr. Wright, all but choking the blessing with a huge oyster.

"Are any labourers to go with us?" asked Robin.

"One or two picked ones."

"Then you must allow me to pick one, Sam. My friend Jim Slagg is at present cast adrift with a considerable part of the Great Eastern's crew. He will be delighted to go, I know, and is a first-rate, hard-working, willing, conscientious youth."

"He ought to be proud of having so warm a friend and advocate," said Sam, "but I have no power to choose the men."

"O yes, you have, Sam. If you could get me appointed, you can get him appointed; and you must, for, if you don't, I won't go."

"You are hard on me, Robin, but I'll try."

"But you have not yet told us where it is that they are going to send you," said Mrs. Wright.

"Ah! that's not fixed," replied Sam; "they are laying down lines in Turkey; and Egypt is talked of, and telegraph to India itself is even hinted at. All I know is that we shall be sent to the East somewhere."

​"Bah! boo! Why does nobody ask for my opinion on the matter?" said uncle Rik, as he gazed at the company over a goose drumstick, which was obviously not tender.

"Your opinion, brother," said Mr. Wright, "is so valuable, that no doubt your nephew has been keeping it to the last as a sort of tit-bit—eh, Robin?"

"Well, uncle; come, let us have it," said Robin.

"You don't deserve it," returned Rik, with a wrench at the drumstick, "but you shall have it all the same, free, gratis. Was this bird fed on gutta-percha shavings, sister Nan?"

"Perhaps—or on violin strings, I'm not sure which," replied Mrs. Wright blandly.

"Well," continued the captain, "you youngsters will go off, I see, right or wrong, and you'll get half-drowned in the sea, roasted in the East, smothered in the desert, eaten alive by cannibals, used up by the plague, poisoned by serpents, and tee-totally ruined altogether. Then you'll come home with the skin of your teeth on—nothing more."

"I sincerely hope it will be summer at the time," said Sam, laughing; "but we are grateful to you for prophesying that we shall return, even though in such light clothing."

"That's what'll happen," continued the captain, ​regarding the other drumstick with some hesitation; "you may take the word of an old salt for it. I've lived in the good old times, lads, and I know that all these new-fangled notions are goin' to burst up—and that's what'll come of it."

Whether that was what came of it remains to be seen.

A GREAT DYNAMO-ELECTRIC SEA-FIGHIT.

A few weeks after the utterance of Captain Rik's famous prophecy, Robin, Sam, Stumps, and Slagg found themselves on board of a large submarine cable steam-ship, named the Triton, ploughing the billows of the Southern Ocean.

A few weeks later and they were drawing near to that great concourse of islands known as the Malay Archipelago, where nature is exceptionally beautiful, but man is rather vile. At all events, that region of the ocean lying to the south of China has been long infamous for the number and ferocity of its pirates, who, among the numerous islands, with their various channels, creeks, and rivers, have found a suitable field for their bloody and remorseless game.

"D' you know I don't believe in pirates?" said Robin to Sam, as they stood at the bow of the cable-ship, conversing about these sea-robbers.

"They believe in you nevertheless, as you'd find ​out to your cost if we came across one just now."

The voice that replied was not Sam's, but that of the captain, who had come forward to get a clearer sweep of the horizon ahead with his glass.

"Do you think it likely, sir, that we may meet with any of the rascals?" asked Sam.

"Not at all unlikely," replied the captain, fixing his glass and putting it to his eye, "though I don't think it likely that we shall be attacked, as we are large and don't look like a richly freighted merchant-man. However, there is no saying. These scoundrels fear nothing, and when hard up will attack anything but a man-of-war. I half suspect that I am looking at one of them now."

This latter announcement, calmly uttered, threw all who heard it into quite a flutter of excitement.

The captain was a big, dark-skinned, bearded man, with a quiet, half-humorous, half-sarcastic expression of countenance.

"Do you really think it is a pirate?" asked Robin, eagerly.

I really do," replied the captain, "and I fear we may have to run out of our course to avoid her. You see, I am a man of peace, and abhor bloodshed, therefore I won't fight if I can help it."

Saying this he gave orders to have the course of the steamer changed.

​Just then there occurred one of those contretemps which don't often happen, but which, when they do, are often prolific of disaster; an important part of the machinery broke down, and the engine, for the moment, was rendered useless. It was most unfortunate, for the suspicious craft lay to windward, and a light breeze was blowing which carried it steadily towards them, although all the sail the steamer possessed was crowded on her.

"Come aft here, Mr. Shipton, and tell your chief to come with you. I want to hold a council of war," said the captain.

Summoning the first mate and chief engineer, as well as the electricians, the captain went to the after part of the quarter-deck, where, seated on the taffrail, he deliberated with the extemporised council measures for repelling an expected attack.

What these deliberations tended to, those not of the council could not tell, but from the energy of the members, and an occasional burst of laughter from the group, it was obvious, as Jim Slagg remarked, that "mischief o' some sort was in the wind."

Presently the council broke up, and the members went actively below, as men do who have a purpose to carry out promptly.

Meanwhile the pirate vessel came within range ​and fired a shot which missed them. The fire was not repeated. Evidently they meant to get within easy range before trying another shot.

In a few minutes the electricians came on deck with several large coils of copper wire, which they uncoiled and distributed mysteriously about the sides of the vessel. At the same time several lengths of leathern pump hose were laid along the deck, and fire-branches or nozzles attached to them.

"Run out our stern-guns now," said the captain, with a grim smile, "and give it 'em hot. It won't do to seem to give in too easy. Run up the Union Jack. Don't take aim. I want more noise and smoke than mischief—d' ye understand?"

The officer to whom this was addressed, said, "Ay, ay, sir," in the usual tone of ready obedience, adding, however, in an undertoned growl, "but I don't understand, for all that!"

He obeyed the orders literally, being well disciplined, and the result was a sudden and most furious cannonade, for the pirate replied with vigour, using all the guns he could bring to bear; but no damage was done on either side for some time, until at last a ball from the enemy went crash through the smoke funnel of the Triton with a most sonorous bang!

​"That'll do now," cried the captain, "cease firing and haul down the colours."

If the captain had said, "Cut away the rudder and heave the boilers overboard," he could scarcely have caused more surprise in his crew, who, by his orders, had assembled on deck, every man being armed with musket, cutlass, and revolver. His orders were strictly and promptly obeyed, however.

By this time the light breeze had fallen and a dead calm prevailed, so that the sails of the pirate flapped idly against her masts, and her crew were seen busily lowering her boats.

"We could have soon got out of her way if our engines had not broke down," growled the captain, as he went toward the front of the quarter-deck and looked down on the armed men in the waist. "My lads," he said, "the blackguards are Malay pirates. They are lowering their boats, and will be alongside in less than half an hour. I don't need to tell you what you'll have to expect if they take us. We must beat 'em off or die; for it's better to die sword in hand than to be tortured or strangled. Those of you, however, who prefer the latter modes of going under may show the white feather and enjoy yourselves in your own way. Now, lads, you know me. I expect obedience to orders to the letter. I hate fighting and ​bloodshed—so don't kill unless you can't help it. Also, take care that you don't touch these copper wires on the sides with either finger or foot. If you do you'll repent it, for electricians don't like their gear handled."

Turning abruptly round, for the oars of the approaching boats could now be distinctly heard, the captain asked Sam if his batteries were well charged.

"Chock-full, sir," replied Sam with a broad grin; "there 's not a bit of iron all round the ship that a man could lay hold of without receiving his due!"

"Good," said the captain, turning to the chief engineer; "are the hose attached and the boilers hot?"

"Bubblin' up fit to burst, sir. I 've weighted the safety valves to give it force?"

Without another word the captain stepped to the port gangway, and took off his hat to the advancing pirates. The pirate captain, not to be outdone in civility, took off his fez and bowed as the boat ranged alongside. The captain carefully held out one of the man-ropes to his enemy. He grasped it and seized the other.

An instantaneous yell of the most appalling nature issued from his mouth, and never before, since ship-building began, were a couple of ​man-ropes thrown off with greater violence! The pirate captain fell back into his boat, and the captain of the steamer stepped promptly back to avoid the storm of bullets that were let fly at his devoted head. At the starboard gangway the chief mate performed the same ceremony to another boat with a like result.

The pirates were amazed and enraged, but not cowed. "With a wild cheer they made a simultaneous dash at the ship's sides all round. With a wilder yell they fell back into their boats,—shocked beyond expression! A few of them, however, chanced to lay hold of ropes or parts of the vessel that were not electrified. These gained the bulwarks.

"Shove in some more acid," said the chief electrician in suppressed excitement to Sam Shipton, who stood beside the batteries below.

"Stir up the fires, lads," cried the chief engineer to his men at the boilers beneath, as he stood holding a fire-nozzle ready.

Intensified yells all round told that chemical action had not been applied in vain, while the pirates who had gained the bulwarks were met with streams of boiling water in their faces. Heroes may and do face shot and shell coolly without flinching, but no hero ever faced boiling water coolly. The pirates turned simultaneously and received the ​streams in rear. Light cotton is but a poor defence in such circumstances. They sloped over the sides like eels, and sought refuge in the sea. Blazing with discomfiture and amazement, but not yet dismayed, these ferocious creatures tried the assault a second time. Their fury became greater, so did the numbers that gained a footing on the bulwarks, but not one reached the deck! The battery and the boiler played a part that day which it had never before entered into the brain of the wildest scientist to conceive. The hissing of the hot shower and the vigour of the cold shock were only equalled by the unearthly yelling of the foe, whose miraculous bounds and plunges formed a scene that is altogether indescribable.

The crew of the steamer stood spell-bound, unable to fight even if there had been occasion for so doing. The dark-skinned captain became Indian-red in the face from suppressed laughter.

Suddenly a tremor ran through the steamer, as if she too were unable to restrain her feelings. During the fight—if we may so call it—the engineers had been toiling might and main in the buried depths of their engine-room; the broken parts of the engine had been repaired or refitted, and a throb of life had returned to the machinery. In its first revolution the screw touched the stern of a pirate-boat and turned it upside down. Another ​boat at the bow was run over. The crews of both swam away like ducks, with their long knives between their teeth. The other boats hauled off.

"Now, captain," cried Robin Wright, who, during the whole time, had stood as if transfixed, with a cutlass in one hand, a pistol in the other, and his mouth, not to mention his eyes, wide open; "Now, captain, we shall get away without shedding a drop of blood!"

"Yes," replied the captain, "but not without inflicting punishment. Port your helm—hard a port!"

"Port it is, sir—hard over," replied the man at the wheel, and away went the steamer with a grand circular sweep which speedily brought her, bow-on, close to the pirate vessel.

"Steady—so!" said the captain, at the same time signalling "full steam" to the engine-room.

The space between the two vessels quickly decreased. The part of the pirate crew which had been left on board saw and understood. With a howl of consternation, every man sprang into the sea. Next moment their vessel was cut almost in two and sent fathoms down into the deep, whence it rose a limp and miserable remnant, flattened out upon the waves.

​"Now," observed the captain, with a pleasant nod, "we'll leave them to get home the best way they can. A boat voyage in such fine weather in these latitudes will, do them good."

Saying which, he resumed his course, and steamed away into the regions of the far East.

TELLS OF A SUDDEN AND UNLOOKED-FOR EVENT.

How often it has been said, "Good for man that he does not know what lies before him." If he did, we fear he would face his duty with very different feelings from those which usually animate him. Certain it is that if Robin Wright and Sam Shipton had known what was before them—when they stood one breezy afternoon on the ship's deck, casting glances of admiration up at the mountain waves of the southern seas, or taking bird's-eye views of the valleys between them—their eyes would not have glistened with such flashes of delight, for the fair prospects they dreamed of were not destined to be realised.

What these prospects were was made plain by their conversation.

"Won't it be a splendid opportunity, Sam, to become acquainted with all the outs and ins of telegraphy, this laying of lines from island to island in the China Seas?"

​"It will, indeed, Robin—a sort of compound or alternating land-and-submarine line. At one time we shall be using palm-trees for posts and carrying wires through the habitations of parrots and monkeys, at another we shall be laying them down among the sharks and coral groves."

"By the way," said Robin, "is it true that monkeys may prove to be more troublesome to us in these regions than sparrows and crows are at home?"

"Of course it is, my boy. Have you never heard that on some of our Indian lines, baboons, vultures, and other heavy creatures have sometimes almost broken down the telegraphs by taking exercise and roosting on the wires?"

"Indeed, I hope it won't be so with us. At all events, sharks won't be much tempted, I should fancy, by submarine cables."

"There 's no saying, Robin. They are not particular when hungry. By the way, I saw you talking with unusual earnestness this morning to Jim Slagg; what was the matter with him?"

"Poor fellow! you 'd scarcely believe it, to look at him," replied Robin, "but the lad is actually home-sick."

"Home-sick! Why, how 's that? If we were only a few days out from port, or even a week or two, I could understand it, but seeing that we are ​now drawing near to the China Seas, I should have thought—"

"Oh, that 's easily explained," interrupted Robin. "This is his mother's birthday, it seems, a day that has always been kept with much rejoicing, he tells me, by his family, and it has brought back home and home-life with unusual force to him. With all his rough off-handedness, Slagg is a tender-hearted, affectionate fellow. Somehow he has taken it into his head that this voyage will be disastrous, and that he will never see his mother again. I had great difficulty in showing him the unreasonableness of such a belief."

"No doubt you had. It is unreasonable beliefs that people usually hold with greatest tenacity," replied Sam; with a touch of sarcasm. "But tell me, have he and Stumps never once quarrelled since leaving England?"

"Never."

"I 'm amazed—they are so unlike in every way."

"You would not be surprised if you knew them as I do," returned Robin. "Ever since Slagg gave him that thrashing on board the Great Eastern in 1865, Stumps has been a changed man. It saved him from himself, and he has taken such a liking to Slagg that nothing will part them. It was that made me plead so hard for Stumps to be taken ​with us, because I felt sure Slagg would not go without him, and although we might easily have done without Stumps, we could not have got on so well without Slagg."

"I 'm not so sure of that, my boy. Your opinion of him is too high, though I admit him to be a first-rate youth. Indeed, if it were not so, he should not be here.—Was that a shark's fin alongside?"

"Yes, I think so. Cook has been throwing scraps overboard, I suppose.—See, there goes an empty meat-tin."

As he spoke the article named rose into the air, and fell with a splash in the water. At the same time Jim Slagg was seen to clamber on the bulwarks and look over.

"Come here—look alive. Stumps!" he shouted.

Stumps, whose proper name, it is but fair to state, was John Shanks, clambered clumsily to his friend's side just in time to see a shark open its horrid jaws and swallow the meat-tin.

"Well now, I never!" exclaimed Slagg. "He didn't even smell it to see if it was to his taste."

"P'r'aps he 's swallowed so many before," suggested Stumps, "that he takes for granted it 's all right."

"Well it 's on'y flavour; and he has caught a Tartar this time," returned the other, "unless, maybe, tin acts like pie-crust does on human vitals."

​The low deep voice of the captain was heard at this moment ordering a reef to be taken in the top-sails, and then it began to strike Robin and Sam that the breeze was freshening into something like a gale, and that there were some ominous-looking clouds rising on the windward horizon. Gazing at this cloudbank for a few minutes, the captain turned and ordered the top-sails to be close-reefed, and most of the other sails either furled or reduced to their smallest size.

He was in good time, and the vessel was ready for the gale, when it rushed down on them hissing like a storm-fiend.

The good ship bent before the blast like a willow, but rose again, and, under the influence of able seamanship, went bravely on her course, spurning the billows from her swelling bows.

"What a thing it is to know that there is a good hand at the helm in times of danger!" remarked Sam as he and our hero stood under the shelter of the starboard bulwarks, holding on with both hands to the rigging, while the rushing waves tossed them on high or let them drop in the troughs of the seas; "I should feel safe with our captain in any circumstances."

"So should I," said Robin with enthusiasm, his eyes glistening with delight as he gazed on the angry ocean.

​There was no thought of danger in the mind of any one at that moment. A good ship, ably commanded, well manned, and with plenty of sea-room,—what more could be desired? Nevertheless, deadly peril was close at hand.

That marvellous little creature—which, in the southern seas, builds its little cell, works its little day and dies, leaving to succeeding generations of its kind to build their little cells and die, each using its predecessor's mansion as a foundation for its own, until pile on pile forms a mass, and mass on mass makes a mountain—the coral insect, had reared one of its submarine edifices just where the cable-ship Triton had to pass that day. For ages man had traversed that sea without passing exactly over that mountain, and even if he had, it would not have mattered, for the mountain had been always many fathoms below the surface. But now the decree had gone forth. The conjunction of events predestined had come about. The distance between the mountain summit and the ocean surface had been reduced to feet. The Triton rose on the top of a mighty billow as she reached the fated spot. The coral peak rose near the bottom of the water-hollow beyond, and down on it the doomed ship went with an awful crash!

Her speed was checked only an instant, for the top of the rock was knocked off by the force of the ​blow, and the ship passed swiftly on, but there could be no mistaking the significance of that shock. An involuntary shout of alarm from some,—a gasp, half of surprise, half of horror, from others,—then a rush of active effort when the captain gave orders to man the pumps.

There was urgent need for haste. The mass of coral rock had stuck in the hole it had made, else had they gone down in a few minutes. As it was, the water rushed in furiously, so much so that the captain detailed a party of men to construct a raft, while the rest relieved each other at the pumps. No doubt he was partly urged to this course by the consideration that a vessel weighted with telegraph cables and other heavy material connected therewith could not float long in a leaky condition.

"Keep close to me, Robin; we must sink or swim together."

It was Sam who spoke. He was very pale, but his firmly-compressed lips showed no sign of unmanly fear. Robin, on the contrary, taken by surprise, and too inexperienced to correctly estimate sudden danger, was flushed with the feeling that now was the time to do and dare whatever should be required of him! They went to the pumps together, where Stumps and Slagg were already at work with many others.

It is surprising how fast and hard men will toil ​when life depends on the result. There was a catlike activity about the carpenter and his mates as they cut, sawed, lashed, and bolted together the various spars and planks which formed the raft. In a marvellously short space of time it was ready and launched over the side, and towed astern by the strongest cable on board, for the danger of parting from it in such weather was very great. Knowing this they had lashed some casks of pork and other provisions to it before launching.

Still they laboured with unflagging resolution at the pumps, for many of those on board were picked men, whose sense of honour urged them to strive to the uttermost to save the ship, for it was no ordinary merchantman, freighted with an ordinary cargo, which could easily be replaced as well as insured, but a vessel freighted with those magic wires which couple continents and unite humanity, whose loss might delay, though it could not ultimately arrest, the benign and rapid intercourse of man with man in all parts of the globe.

"Keep your eye on Sam and me," whispered Robin to Jim Slagg, finding himself alongside that worthy during a spell of rest. "Let us keep together, whatever happens."

Robin did not quite believe that anything serious was going to happen. Some spirits find it as difficult to believe in impending disaster as others ​find it to believe in continued safety. It seemed so impossible to Robin, in his inexperience, that the strong and still buoyant vessel which had borne them so long and bravely should sink! Nevertheless, like the rest, he laboured with a will.

Slagg took the opportunity to give a similar caution to his friend Stumps.

"She 's sinking, sir," said the carpenter, who had been sounding the well, to the captain, about an hour later,

"I know it; stand by to have the raft hauled alongside. Knock off now, lads, there 's no use in pumping any more."

The men ceased, with a deep sigh, and by that act the death-warrant of the cable-ship was signed.

During the next quarter of an hour the crew were busy slipping down the cable that held the raft. A few ran below to fetch small articles that they valued, but by that time the vessel was so low in the water, that there was little time to spare, and the captain began to urge haste.

"Now then, lads, over the side with you," he said, chancing to look at Sam Shipton as he spoke!

That spirit of heroism which induces men to resolve to be the last to quit a sinking ship, came over Sam just then, and he shrank back. He and his chief were in charge of the telegraph, apparatus. It would be disgraceful to quit until all on board ​had left. He laid his hand on the strong cable that held the raft and said, "I 'll stay to the last, sir, and cast off the rope, if you 'll allow me."

"We don't cast off ropes in such circumstances," replied the captain; "we cut 'em."

Sam was silenced, but not the less resolved to hold to his point, if possible. He still held back, while the captain, being busy with the others, some of whom were rather too eager to go, paid no further attention to him. Robin, Slagg, and Stumps, recognising Sam as their leader, fell behind him and kept close.

At last all were on the raft, except the captain and the four friends.

"Now, then, come along," said the former, somewhat impatiently.

"After you, sir," said Sam, with a polite bow.

"Overboard, sir!" shouted the captain, in a voice that would brook no denial, and Sam at once stepped on the bulwark, for he was not naturally rebellious.

Just as he spoke the rope broke, and the raft fell astern.

"Jump! jump! it 's your only chance," cried the captain, at the same moment springing into the sea.

Sam was on the point of following, when an exclamation from Slagg checked him. Looking quickly back, he saw that Robin was not there.

​Our hero, while modestly standing behind his comrades, had suddenly remembered that the small bible given him by his mother was lying on the shelf at the side of his berth. He would have lost anything rather than that. There was yet time to fetch it, so, without a word, he turned and sprang below, supposing that he had ample time.

"Robin! Robin!" shouted Sam and Slagg together, at the top of their voices.

"Coming! coming!" reached them faintly from below, but Robin did not come. The hasty summons induced him to leap over a chest in returning. He struck his head violently against a beam, and fell back stunned.

With another wild shout his friends rushed down the companion hatch to hasten his movements by force. They found him almost insensible. Lifting him quickly, they carried him on deck, and bore him to the stern of the vessel.

"Robin! Robin!" cried Sam, in an agony of impatience—for the raft was by that time far astern, besides which the shades of evening were beginning to descend—"do try to rally. We must swim. We 're almost too late. Can you do it?"

"Yes, yes, I can swim like a duck," cried Robin, rising and staggering towards the bulwarks.

"But I can't swim at all!" cried Stumps in a voice of horror.

​Sam stopped as if suddenly paralysed. Then, laying hold of Robin, held him back. He felt, as he looked at the dark heaving sea and the now-distant raft, that it was not possible for him and Slagg to save both their injured and their helpless comrade.

"Too late!" he said in a voice of despair, as he sat down and for a moment covered his face with his hands. Slagg looked at him with a bewildered rather than a despairing expression.

"So, we 'll have to sink together since we can't swim together," he said at last, with a touch of reckless vexation, as he gazed at the naturally stupid and by that time imbecile face of his friend Stumps.

"Come, only cowards give way to despair," cried Sam, starting up. "We have one chance yet, God be praised, but let 's work with a will, boys, for the time is short."

THE RAFT.

Sam Shipton's one chance did not seem a bright one, but, with characteristic energy, he proceeded to avail himself of it at once.

When the raft was launched over the side, as described, the carpenters had embarked upon it with the rest of the ship's crew, dropping their tools on the deck beside the mass of unused material of ropes, spars, planks, etc., as they left. Four of the spars were pretty equal in length. Sam selected them hastily and laid them on the deck in the form of a square, or oblong frame. Then he seized an axe.

"Unravel some of the ropes, Robin," he cried. "You two select some planks as near ten feet long as possible. Quick—ask no questions, but do what I tell you."

Sam Shipton was one of those who hold the opinion that every man born into the world, whether gentle or simple, should learn a trade. ​He had acted on his belief and taught himself that of a carpenter, so that he wielded the axe with skill, and gave his orders with the precision of one who knows what he is about. His comrades, although not trained to any special trade, were active handy fellows, with the exception, indeed, of John Shanks, whose fingers were usually described as "thumbs," and whose general movements were clumsy; but Stumps had a redeeming quality to set against defects—he was willing.

With a few powerful well-directed blows, Sam cut four deep notches into the two longest of the selected spars, near their ends, at equal distances from each other. Into these he laid the ends of the two shorter spars, thus forming a frame-work.

"Twelve feet by ten, not a bad raft," he muttered, as if to himself, while he snatched a rope from the bundle of those disentangled by Robin. "Take a rope of same size you two, and lash the opposite corners as you see me doing. Stumps will go on selecting the planks."

Sam jerked out his words with as much rapidity and force as he applied to the labour of his hands. There was something quite tremendous in his energy—and little wonder, for, as he glanced now and then along the deck, he saw that the ship was rapidly settling down to her final dive, and that the closing scene would be sudden.

​Powerfully impressed by his example, the others worked in total silence and with all their might, for Sam's conduct, far more than the appearance of things, convinced them of their danger.

"The planks now, Stumps! Drive in as many of these clamps as you can find, Slagg—so (he set the example)—we've no time to bore holes for bolts. A plank now; that 's it! Hand some nails—no, the biggest nails and the big hammer. Mind your fingers!"

Down came the heavy hammer on a four-inch nail, which went half through the thick plank. Two more such blows and the iron head was buried in the wood. Six planks sufficed to cover the frame. They were laid lengthwise with nails just sufficient to hold them. A piece of thick rope passed four times round the entire fabric still further secured them in position.

"Tie a lot of these nails in a bit of sailcloth, Slagg, and fix 'em to the raft—to one of the spars, not the planks. Do the same with a saw, hammer, axe, and cask of biscuit—water, too; don't forget water. Make a belt of a bit of rope, Robin, and stick that small axe in it. Have it handy."

While he spoke Sam did not look up, but gave all his attention to the tightening, with a hand-spike, of the knot on the thick rope that bound the raft together; for we may as well inform those ​who don't know it, that the tying of a knot on a cable is not managed in the same way or with the same ease that a similar operation is performed on a piece of twine.

"But how shall we lift it over the side?" asked Stumps, becoming suddenly alive to a difficulty.

"Help me to haul on this rope and you shall see," said Sam.

He ran to the side, lifted a coil of rope off its belaying-pin, threw it on the deck, cut the rope clear, and hauled it to the raft, to one end of which he made it fast.

It was the strong rope, by means of which one of the mizzen yards was braced, and was rove through a block attached to the outward end of the yard.

"Hoist away now—with a will!"

"Hold on," cried Slagg, stuffing a mass of sail-cloth violently, by means of a handspike, underneath the binding rope of the raft.

"There now—yo ho! heave ho—o!"

Up went the end of the little ark of safety, and when one end was raised very little force was required to push it over.

"Hold on! hold on! hold—o—o—on!" yelled Stumps, straining to prevent the raft from leaving the ship.

"No, no.—Let go! let go! let go—o—o!" roared Sam.

​Stumps did let go and almost fell from the combined effect of his efforts and despair, as the raft swung off, splashed into the sea far out of reach, and hung half suspended from the yard-arm.

"It 's all up with us," gasped Stumps.

"Not yet, but it will be all up with us in two minutes," returned Sam, unable to repress a smile even at that moment.

"What d'ye mean ?" said Stumps in amazement. "How can we ever git at it now?"

"Why, stoopid," said Slagg, "don't you see that we 've only to go up the mast, out on the yard-arm, and slip down the rope."

While he was speaking, Robin, by Sam's orders, was performing the feat referred to.

"Look sharp!" he cried, turning to the others.

A heavy lurch of the ship caused their breasts to leap almost as fast as their bodies, for they were all more or less aware of the danger of the ship sinking before they could get clear of her. The darkness, too, was, as we have said, increasing by that time, though it was still light enough to enable them to see what they were about.

In a few minutes they all had gained the end of the yard-arm, slipped down the rope, and got upon the raft, but it was difficult to hold on, because at each heave of the ship, the fore-end of the raft was raised quite out of the sea, and then let fall with ​considerable violence. As soon as Sam reached it, he bade Robin cut adrift with his axe, so great was the heave; but at the moment the raft hung almost perpendicularly in the air, and Robin could do nothing but cling to the rope that bound it. Next instant it again fell flat on the sea.

"Now—cut!" cried Sam.

The rope was severed with one blow; almost at the same instant the stern of the Triton flew up with a degree of violence that no wave could account for. It was her last fling. Instantly after she went down head foremost. The masts, by good fortune, leaned away from the raft at the time, else they would have been struck by the yards, or involved in the rigging. As it was they did not escape. The vast whirlpool caused by the sinking ship drew them in with irresistible power. For one moment the horrified youths saw a dark green vortex towards which they rushed. Another moment, and they beheld a green funnel whirling round them as they sank into midnight darkness, while an ocean of roaring water filled their ears.

Who shall attempt to describe the feelings or sensations of that moment! The one absorbing idea of self-preservation was of course dominant, coupled with an intolerable feeling that the upper air could never be regained.

​It was reached, however, by all of them. First by Sam Shipton, who shot waist-high above the sea with a loud gasp, and struck out wildly. Then, recovering presence of mind, he swam more gently, and looked eagerly round. He was immediately followed by Robin and Slagg. Last of all by Stumps, who came up legs foremost, and, on turning other end up, saluted them with a roar that would not have shamed a monster of the deep. But the roar was cut short by a gurgle, as, in his frantic struggles, he sank himself again.

Observing this, and seeing that the others were comparatively self-possessed, Sam made towards his drowning comrade. The poor fellow, catching sight of him as he came near, made a clutch at him, but Sam was well aware of the danger of being grasped by a drowning man. He swerved aside, and Stumps sank with a gurgle of despair. Twice again did he rise and sink. Once more he rose. With a rapid stroke Sam swam behind him and caught him under the armpits. Violently did the poor fellow strive to turn round and clasp his preserver, but Sam, treading water, held him easily at arm's-length with his head just above the surface. As long as he struggled nothing more could be done for him; Sam therefore put his mouth as near to his ear as possible and shouted—

"Stop struggling! else I 'll let you go!"

​It was probably as much the tone of Sam's voice as the sense of these words that calmed Stumps. At all events he instantly lay, or rather hung, perfectly limp and still.

"Now," continued Sam, "you are quite safe if you do what I tell you. If you don't you 're a dead man! D' you understand?"

"Yes," gasped Stumps.

"Let your hands and arms lie flat on the water! Don't try to raise your head farther than I let you! Keep your feet still! Let yourself hang helpless while I hold you and look round for the raft."

It was obvious that Stumps had regained self-command, for as each of these orders was shouted in his ear, in the tones of a sergeant-major, he obeyed with eager, almost ludicrous, promptitude.

"The raft is here, close at hand," said a voice close to Sam's ear.

It was Robin who had discovered him at that moment.

"Is Slagg safe?" asked Sam.

"Here he is, all right," said the worthy referred to, puffing and choking as he swam up.

"Keep off—don't get in front of him," said Sam, in a warning voice. "He mayn't have recovered self-restraint enough yet to refrain from grasping you. Guide me to the raft, Robin, while I swim on my back, and see that you don't let it hit me on the ​head when I come close. You and Slagg help each other on, and then help me with Stumps."

Nothing could have calmed Stumps more than the cool, firm way in which these orders were given, so that he allowed himself to lie like a log while his deliverer drew him gently backwards until the back of his head rested on his bosom. Sam then struck out gently with his legs; Robin turned him with a push in the right direction, and thus, swimming on his back, he reached the raft. Slagg and Robin having already helped each other upon it, grasped his hair. At once he freed one hand and caught the rope that bound the raft. Stumps naturally slewed round, so that his mouth and nose went for a moment under water. Fancying that he was forsaken, he caught Sam round the neck, drew himself up, and gave a terrific yell.

"Ha! you may choke me now, if you can," muttered Sam, as he grasped the rope with both hands, "only, the longer you hold on to me the longer you will be of getting out of the water."

The terrified lad still retained sufficient sense to appreciate the force of the remark. Looking up as well as he could through his dishevelled hair, he held out one hand to Slagg, who grasped it firmly. Releasing Sam, with some hesitation he made a convulsive grasp at Robin with the other hand. Robin met him half way. A loud "heave ho!" and a ​mighty pull brought him out of the sea, and sent him with a squash on the boards of the raft, where he lay gripping the ropes with his hands as with a vice.

Before his rescuers could turn to aid Sam, he stood panting beside them.

"Thank God," said Sam, "for this deliverance!"

"Amen!" was the earnest and prompt response from the others.

Yet it seemed but a temporary deliverance, for when these castaways looked around them, they saw nothing but a heaving ocean and a darkening sky, with the tiny raft as the only visible solid speck in all the watery waste. Compared, however, with the extremity of danger through which they had just passed, the little platform on which they stood seemed to them an ample refuge—so greatly do circumstances alter our estimate of facts!

But they had not time to think much, as may be easily understood, for a great deal still remained to be done. Their little ark was by no means secure. We have said that only enough of nails had been driven into it to hold the planks to the framework, but not to withstand rough treatment. Indeed, during the plunge two of the planks had been torn off, but the binding rope held them to their places, as Sam had foreseen.

Very little daylight now remained, so that not a moment was to be lost.

​"No sign of the big raft," said Sam, stooping to unfasten the hammer and packet of nails, after taking one quick, anxious glance round the horizon.

"But it may be not far off after all," said Slagg, kneeling down to aid his comrade, while Stumps, by that time recovered, assisted Robin to tighten the ropes that held the pork barrel. "With such poor light it 'ud be hard to make out a flat thing like that a-kickin' in the hollows of the seas."

"But you forget," returned Sam, "that it must be a-kickin' on the top o' the sea as well as in the hollows. Another nail—thanks. However, I don't expect to see it again."

"Well, now, I expects to see it in the mornin' not far off," said Slagg. "Is the water-cask fast, Robin?"

"All right—and the pork too."

"And the sail. Just give it an extra shove under the ropes, Robin. We 'd be badly off if we lost it."

"I don't see what good a sail can do us," said Stumps, who had now quite recovered.

"Not as a sail, Stumpy," replied Slagg, whose spirit soon recovered elasticity, "though even in that way it may help us, but as a blanket we shall appreciate it before long."

Slagg was right. After the planking had been ​secured and the rope refastened, those unfortunates found themselves in an unenviable position. The gale had indeed abated somewhat, though the heaving of the great waves was little less tremendous, but the night had settled down into a state of pitchy darkness, so that they could barely see each other's faces, while the seas continually washed over them, obliging them to hold on to the ropes for fear of being washed away.

In such circumstances sleep was out of the question, yet they stood sorely in need of rest.

"Now we 'll see what 's to be done wi' the sail," said Slagg, after they had been seated some time doing nothing. "Sleep I want, an' sleep I 'll have, so lend a hand, boys."

He drew out the sail with some trouble, so well had it been stuffed in, and bade the others hold and prevent it from flapping while he fastened the corners down. He did not arrange it like a tent, but spread it as flat as possible, doubling the superfluous edges inward, so that it presented little or no obstruction to the free passage of wind or water over them.

This done, they all crept underneath, and found it to be a much snugger den than they had expected, for the two casks prevented their heads from being pressed down when a few tons of water rolled over them—as occasionally happened.

​Still they did not dare to sleep until each had fastened a rope round his waist and bound himself to the flooring. Having done so, each laid himself alongside of a turn of the binding cable, and, embracing that affectionately with both arms, laid his head on the planks and shut his eyes.

Many and varied are the conditions under which healthy members of the human family seek and find repose, but we venture to think that few conditions have ever been found which were more unfavourable to sleep than that which has just been described.

Nevertheless, they were met promptly by slumber most profound, as they lay wet and weary on the little raft that disastrous night, on the dark and surging breast of the Southern Sea.

LIFE ON THE RAFT.

To awake "all at sea"—in other words, ignorant of one's locality—is a rather common experience, but to awaken both at and in the sea, in a similar state of oblivion, is not so common.

It was the fortune of Robin Wright to do so on the first morning after the day of the wreck.

At first, when he opened his eyes, he fancied, from the sound of water in his ears, that it must have come on to rain very heavily, but, being regardless of rain, he tried to fall asleep again. Then he felt as if there must be a leak in his berth somewhere, he was so wet; but, being sleepy, he shut his eyes, and tried to shut his senses against moisture. Not succeeding, he resolved to turn on his other side, but experienced a strange resistance-to that effort. Waxing testy, he wrenched himself round, and in so doing kicked out somewhat impatiently. This, of course, woke him up to the real state of the case. It also awoke Slagg, who received ​the kick on his shins. He, delivering a cry of pain straight into Sam Shipton's ear, caused that youth to fling out his fist, which fell on Stumps's nose, and thus in rapid succession were the sleepers roused effectually to a full sense of their condition.

"It 's cold," remarked Stumps, with chattering teeth.

"You should be thankful that you 're alive to feel the cold, you ungrateful creetur," said Slagg.

"I am thankful, Jim," returned the other humbly, as he sought to undo the rope that held him fast; "but you know a feller can scarcely express thanks or—or—otherwise half asleep, an' his teeth goin' like a pair o' nut-crackers."

"The wind is evidently down," remarked Sam, who had already undone his lashings. "Here, Robin, help me to untie this corner of the sail. I had no idea that sleeping with one's side in a pool of water would make one so cold and stiff."

"If it had bin a pool, Mr. Shipton," said Slagg, "it wouldn't have made you cold; 'cause why? you'd have made it warm. But it was the sea washin' out and in fresh that kep' the temperater low—d'ee see?"

"What a cargo o' rheumatiz we 've been a-layin' in this night for old age," said Stumps ruefully, as he rubbed his left shoulder.

​Throwing off the sail, Sam stood up and looked round, while an exclamation of surprise and pleasure broke from him. The contrast between the night and morning was more than usually striking. Not only had darkness vanished and the wind gone down, but there was a dead calm which had changed the sea into a sheet of undulating glass, and the sun had just risen, flooding the sky with rosy light, and tipping the summit of each swell with gleaming gold. The gentle, noiseless heaving of the long swell, so far from breaking the rest of nature, rather deepened it by suggesting the soft breathings of slumber. There were a few gulls floating each on its own image, as if asleep, and one great albatross soared slowly in the bright sky, as if acting the part of sentinel over the resting sea.

"How glorious!" exclaimed Robin, as, with flashing eyes, he gazed round the scarce perceptible horizon.

"How hard to believe," said Sam, in a low voice, "that we may have been brought here to die."

"But surely you do not think our case so desperate?" said Robin.

"I hope it is not, but it may be so."

"God forbid," responded Robin earnestly.

As he spoke his arm pressed the little bible which ​he had rescued from the wreck. Thrusting his hand into his bosom he drew it out.

"Darling mother!" he said, "when she gave me this she told me to consult it daily, but especially in times of trouble or danger. I 'll look into it now, Sam."

He opened the book, and, selecting the verse that first met his eye, read: "In all their affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence saved them; in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; and he bare them and carried them all the days of old."

"That's a grand word for us, isn't it?—from Isaiah," said Robin.

"Well, what do you make of it?" asked Sam, whose religious education had not been attended to as well as that of his friend.

"That our God is full of love, and pity, and sympathy, so that we have nothing to fear," said Robin.

"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 're 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 was 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 friends 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.

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 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, bed-fellows 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' cutthroats 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 a 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 a 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 débris. 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' letter."

"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."

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 ran. 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. "Com—com—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 wickerwork—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. Yous 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 yous 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 ​

THE PIRATES' CAVE-Page 201.

​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! he'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, etc., 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 lamplight 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 débris of the recent feast.

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 tight-rope 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 '11 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 fall 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 lat.—"

"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 ship-mate 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 was a 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 Gable, 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.

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 new 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 of 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.

This article uses material from the Wikipedia article  Metasyntactic variable, which is released under the  Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.