that spoil it as an uninhabited isle?”
“A little, but not much.”
“The thicket is too small to contain anything with life, I fear,” said Dominick, whose anxiety as to food and drink prevented his sympathising much with the small-talk of the other two. “Luckily the weather is warm,” he added, “and we won’t require better shelter at present than the bushes afford, unless a storm comes.—Ho what have we here?—a path!”
They had reached the entrance to the thicket, and discovered what appeared to be an opening into it, made apparently by the hand of man.
“Nothing more likely,” said Pauline. “If so many wrecks have taken place here—as you seem to think—some of the crews must have landed, and perhaps lived here.”
“Ay, and died here,” returned Dominick, in a grave, low tone, as he pointed to a skeleton lying on a spot which had once been cleared of bushes, but so long ago that the vegetation had partially grown up again. The man whose bleached bones lay before them had evidently perished many years before. On examination, nothing was found to afford any information about him, but when they had advanced a dozen yards further they came upon six little mounds, which showed that a party—probably a wrecked crew—had sojourned there for a time, and finally perished: so far their story was clear enough. One by one they must have sunk, until the last man had lain down to die and remain unburied.
Pushing past these sad evidences of former suffering, and feeling that the same fate might await themselves, they came to a sight which tended slightly to restore their spirits. It was a pool of water of considerable size, whether a spring or a rain-pool they could not tell. Neither did they care at that time, for the sudden feeling of relieved anxiety was so great, that they ran forward, as if under one impulse, and, lying down on their breasts, took a long refreshing draught. So powerful was the influence of this refreshment and discovery on their spirits that they became totally regardless and forgetful for the moment about food—all the more that, having so recently had a good meal, they were not hungry.
“I was sure we would find water,” said Otto, as they continued to explore the thicket, “and I’ve no doubt that we shall find yams and plantains and breadfruits, and—aren’t these the sort of things that grow wild on coral islands, Dom?”
“Yes, but I fear not on such a little scrap of reef as this. However, we shall not be quite destitute, for there are cocoa-nuts, you see—though not many of them. Come, our prospects are brightening, and as the sun is beginning to sink, we will look out for a suitable camping-ground.”
“As far away from the skeleton, please, as possible,” said Otto.
“Surely you don’t suppose it can hurt you?” said Pauline.
“N–no, of course not, but it would be unpleasant to have it for a bedfellow, you know; so, the further away from it the better.”
As he spoke they emerged from the thicket, at the end opposite to the spot where they had entered, and had their spirits again powerfully cheered by coming suddenly into a blaze of sunshine, for the bright orb of day was descending at that side of the islet, and his red, resplendent rays were glowing on the reef and on the palm-trees.
They also came in full view of the islet beyond, which, they now perceived, was of considerable size, and covered with vegetation, but, as Dominick had suspected, separated completely from the reef or outer isle on which they stood by a deep lagoon.
“Splendid!” exclaimed Pauline.
“As I feared,” muttered Dominick, “and no means of reaching it.”
“Pooh! Didn’t Robinson Crusoe make rafts?” said Otto; “at least if he didn’t, somebody else did, and anyhow we can.”
“Come, let us continue our walk,” said Dominick. “You don’t fully appreciate the loss of our boat Otto. Don’t you see that, even if we do build a raft, it will at best be a clumsy thing to manage, and heavy to pull, slow to sail, and bad to steer, and if we should chance to be on it when a stiff breeze springs up from the land, we should probably be driven out to sea and lost—or separated, if Pina should chance to have been left on shore at the time.”
“What a fellow you are, Dom, for supposing chances and difficulties, and fancying they cannot be overcome,” returned Otto, with the pert self-sufficiency that characterised him. “For my part I rather enjoy difficulties, because of the fun of overcoming them. Don’t you see, we three can make quite sure of never being separated by never going out on our raft except together, so that we shall always enjoy ourselves unitedly, or perish in company. Then we can easily get over the difficulty of being blown out to sea, by never going on the sea at all, but confining ourselves entirely to the lagoon, which is large enough for any reasonable man, and may be larger than we think, for we can’t see the whole of it from where we stand. Then, as to sailing and rowing slowly, we can overcome these difficulties by not being in a hurry,—taking things easy, you know.”
To this Dominick replied that there was one difficulty which his little brother, with all his wisdom and capacity, would never overcome.
“And what may that be?” demanded Otto.
“The difficulty of being unable to talk common-sense.”
“True, Dom, true, that is a great difficulty,” retorted the boy, with deep humility of aspect, “for a man’s conversation is greatly affected by the company he keeps, and with you as my only male companion, I have not much to hope for in the way of example. But even that may be got the better of by holding intercourse chiefly with Pina.”
“But what if I refuse to talk?” said Pauline, with a laugh.
“Then will you be all the more able to listen, sister mine, which is the most common-sense thing that you can do, except when brother Dom speaks,” said the incorrigible boy.
They had seated themselves on a bank while thus conversing, and from their position could see over a considerable portion of the lagoon. Suddenly Dominick pointed to an object a long way off, which was half concealed by the shadow of an island.
“Does it not look like a canoe?” he asked eagerly.
“Can’t make it out at all,” said Otto, shading his eyes with his hand.
“The sun on the water dazzles one so,” observed Pauline, “that it is difficult to look steadily.”
In a few moments the object which had drawn their attention sailed out from under the shade of the island, and, breaking up into fragments, rose into the air, proving itself to be a flock of large aquatic birds which had been swimming in a line.
“Things are not what they seem,” observed Pauline, rising and following her brothers through a little thicket.
“What a pity!” exclaimed Otto; “I was in hopes it was a canoeful of savages. It would be such fun to have a real Friday to be our servant.”
“More likely that our Friday would kill, cook, and eat us if he could,” said Dominick, to the surprise of Otto, who gave it as his opinion that savages never ate men, and asked if his brother really believed that they did.
“Indeed I do. We have it recorded by all the best authorities that South Sea islanders are given to this horrible practice. There can be no doubt about it whatever, and the less we see of these fellows in our present defenceless state the better.”
“How little,” said Pauline,
