The Fate of the “Black Swan”
Author: Moore, Frank Frankfort
Date: 2016-11-27T06:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction
Description: Ebook prepared by crutledge@knology.net
Rights: Public Domain

TABLE of CONTENTS

CHAPTER I—AN INTERVIEW ON THE BEACH.

CHAPTER II—THE MISSING SHIP.

CHAPTER III—TOM MAKES UP HIS MIND.

CHAPTER IV—A STRANGE SAILOR.

CHAPTER V—A MESSAGE FROM THE DEEP.

CHAPTER VI—“I MEAN TO FIND HIM.”

CHAPTER VII—THE VIEWS OF CAPTAIN ROGERS.

CHAPTER VIII—“GIRLS DON’T COUNT.”

CHAPTER IX—A RECRUIT.

CHAPTER X—ABOARD THE “ TITANIA.”

CHAPTER XI—GOOD-BYE TO CIVILIZATION.

CHAPTER XII—THE TWO MATES.

CHAPTER XIII—A FRESH GALE.

CHAPTER XIV—THE SAILORS’ SUPERSTITION.

CHAPTER XV—TIIE ROUND ROBIN.

CHAPTER XVI—A COLLISION IN MID OCEAN.

CHAPTER XVII—“THREE FEET OF WATER IN THE HOLD.”

CHAPTER XVIII—THE LAST OF THE “TITANIA”

CHAPTER XIX—AN AMERICAN CITIZEN.

CHAPTER XX—A TEMPTING OFFER.

CHAPTER XXI—THE SCHOONER “PRIMROSE.”

CHAPTER XXII—THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF NEW GUINEA.

CHAPTER XXIII—AMONG THE CANOES.

CHAPTER XXIV—FRIENDLY NATIVES.

CHAPTER XXV—A DAY ON THE ISLAND.

CHAPTER XXVI—A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

CHAPTER XXVII—ON THE TRACK OF THE HEAD-HUNTERS.

CHAPTER XXVIII—ANCHORED IN THE RIVER.'

CHAPTER XXIX—IN THE STEAM-LAUNCH.

CHAPTER XXX—AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE NATIVES.

CHAPTER XXXI—A DISPLAY OF FIREWORKS.

CHAPTER XXXII—THE LONELY GRAVE.

CHAPTER XXXIII—IN THE HANDS OF THE HEAD-HUNTERS.

CHAPTER XXXIV—TIIE RESCUE OF THE CAPTIVES.

CHAPTER XXXV—THE STRANGER IN THE LAUNCH.

CHAPTER XXXVI—CONCLUSION.

LIST of ILLUSTRATIONS

- “WHAT!” SHOUTED TOM ... “A BACK SWAN? NO, NOT A BLACK SWAN”

- “FATHER, WHY SHOULD YOU BE OVERCOME BY THE SIGHT Of THIS PAPER?”

- THE BOAT WAS SOON AWAY FROM THE FOUNDERING VESSEL.

- TOM SAW THAT THE;CHIEF WAS BREAKING OPEN, WITH A STONE HATCHET,TIIE TINS OF PRESERVED MEAT

CHAPTER I.
AN INTERVIEW ON THE BEACH.

“IT’S a sin and a shame, Master Tom— maybe you expect to be ‘ Mister Tom’d’ now that you say you have done with school.”

“ No, no, Peter."

“ Well, well, maybe not; howsomever, I thought a reg’lar change had come over you, Master Tom, sir; an’ says I to my missus— Maybe you've forgot that I have a missus? ”

“ No, I haven’t; I hope you never forget it yourself, Peter.”

“ Not me, sir, not me; my missus isn't the sort o’ woman a man like me would be likely to forget. She has a kind o' way o' remindin' you that she's your wife—leastways my wife —when you find that you can’t pick up your moorings handsome after beatin’ about for an evenin’ ’twixt the Binnacle an’ Bowline and the Crosstrees. Ay, she has a way o’ her own o’ convincin’ you—leastways o’ convincin’ me— that she’s master o’ the sitiation. Oh, it’s a fine ord’nance that decrees that the husband must honour, love, and obey his missus in health and wealth, et cetery. Howsomever, that’s beside the point. I was sayin’ that I said to her, says I, ‘It’s a sin and a shame that Master Tom should ha’ been at home for nigh two days without ever so much as cornin’ to ask if the Little Sister was still classed A1.’ ”

“ Well, I’ve come now, Peter; isn’t that enough? ”

“No, Master Tom, sir; beggin’ your pardon, it’s not enough. It was me what overtook you just now, or, maybe, we’d never ha’ heard tell o’ the name o’ the boat that you used to take such pleasure in, since the time you had to be tied up to the tiller. An’ me has been a sayin’ to my missus all the summer, says I, ‘ What’s the good o’ havin’ the yawl swabbed every mornin’ through the blessed summer, when Master Tom’s not here to see her, and to stand on her deck as Master Jeff used to do long ago?’”

“Ah, Peter, that’s it—that’s it. Indeed, I’m as fond of the old boat as ever; but how could I take any pleasure in it when I should always be thinking of the days we have sailed together —Jeff and I—on the Little Sister? Tell me that, Peter, tell me that.”

“ An’ why should you be like to pipe your eye as you’re doin’ now, when you think o’ those old days, Master Tom? It makes me mad to see a young fellow like you cornin’ on in that way. Poor Master Jeff! Ah, don’t I mind the first day the Little Sister come to the Port from Netherhaven, where she was built! Master Jeff come down with his father to the wharf—it was his birthday, and he had been promised a boat as a kind o’ present; but he expected only to see a model two feet or so long, and when he was told that this was to be his own boat he caught his father round the legs and hugged him——

Now,what’s the good o’ your takin’ out that handkerchy again, Master Tom? If I had knowed that you would take it to heart like this I would ha’ held my jaw. Look at me, now; I don’t give way like that. I—I——It’s not manly to pipe your eye for nought It’s the breeze that somehow has got under my dead-lights that makes my eyes watery like. I never could abide a breeze gettin’ under my old dead-lights. That’s what it is, Master Tom, sir; that’s what it is, indeed. When I pass my sleeve across them I’ll be all right.”

“ Ah, Peter, Peter, the old memories are too much for us both. Shall we never see the dear old boy again—never—never? ”

“That’s a straightfor’ard quest’n, and I’ll give you a straightfor’ard answer to it, sir. Shall we never see him again? I tell you we shall see him again. What’s to hinder us seein’ him again? ”

“Think, Peter, that it’s eighteen months since he left us—ten months since the Black Swan was last heard of.”

“I do think o’ all that, Master Tom, an’ the more I think o’ it the more I feel that your brother is all right. Why, have you never heard tell o’ Charlie Baker that went out to Chiny in the Viking? Ah, no, it was before your time. Well, Charlie sailed as boatswain o’ the Viking for the Chiny Seas, an’ every one i’ the Port gave up all hope o’ seein’ him again when the barque hadn’t been heard of for a twelvemonth— his sweetheart, Nellie Barnes, was the only one that didn’t lose all hope for him; an’ she was right, for one mornin’ Charlie himself appears at the village with a beard as long as from the Red Sea to the thirty-first of December, and steps into the Binnacle an’ Bowline, quite friendly like, to ask about all the folks, and to know partic’lar if Nellie was married. Well, Bob Brewall of the inn was that frightened you might ha' knocked him down with a feather, as the sayin’ is; he took Charlie for his own ghost A merry weddin’ there was at the Port —you bet your money on that, Master Tom.”

“And what had become of the Viking?”

“ She had run ashore on the coast of Australia, sir, and Charlie had gone to the gold-diggin’s— an’ a good thing he made of it too. Then you mind about Josh Franklin? Ah, no, that was before your time as well.”

“That may possibly account for my failing to remember him. What happened to Josh Franklin, Peter?”

“ He hadn’t been heard of for more nor five years, Master Tom, and, to speak truth, people here wouldn’t ha’ been over partic’lar if they hadn’t heard o’ him for another five, for he weren’t a credit to the Port by no manner o’ means; but one fine day comes a stranger, dressed like a gentleman, brass buttons and a velvet collar on his coat, a sky-blue tie wi’ a big carbuncler pin shinin’ out o’ it for all the world like a port light—oh, a complete gentleman he was—an’ he comes into the Binnacle an’ Bowline, quite jaunty-like, and asks if they has a score again one Josh Franklin; well, the lan’lord stood starin’ at him for about a minute before he comes to know him. But soon all the Port come to know him, for by the evenin’ there weren’t a man sober in the Port—ay, the wives soon come to know that Josh had returned—there was no mistakin’ the man.”

“ And what had become of him in the meantime?”

“Nobody knew for sartin, sir; but it’s my belief that he was consarned i’ the smugglin’ business off the South coast—it was a moneymaking trade in those days, Master Tom, but I’m afear’d it’ll never be that again—ay, ay, the good old days ’ll never come back; but Master Jeff will, sir; cheer up your heart, sir; Master Jeff will live to sail the Little Sister by your side, and by the side o’ Missy, too—that’s the moral o’ the yarns I’ve been spinnin’ to you. So here we are at the old house, an’ if you step inside, Master Tom, it’s glad my missus will be to see you.”

“ Not now, Peter; but I’ll come before the week is over, and we’ll have a long talk about the old times—the good old times when we were all together.”

“An’ together we’ll all be yet, Master Tom; make up your mind to that, sir; and so my respecks, and good evenin’ to you.”

“ Good evening, Peter; I’ll try and take your advice.”

CHAPTER II.
THE MISSING SHIP.

THE two persons whose Interview has just been recorded, differed the one from the other in every point Peter Crosby was an elderly fisherman of Utterport, one of the villages of the coast of Utter-shire. Strictly speaking, Peter was no longer a fisherman; for, though he now and again came ashore with a string of mackerel or rock-codling, he made no attempt to interfere with the regular fishing trade of “the Port,” as the place was called by its inhabitants, who declined to admit the possibility of any other port existing on the coast. Peter had for long been in the employment of Mr. Courtland, of Courtlands, the owner of the village, his business being to look after the two boats which belonged to the Manor: the Little Sister, a ten-ton yawl, and the Swallow, a small, handy pleasure-boat, with a mast that could be unstepped at will. Upon Peter had devolved the duty of instructing in the elements of seamanship the two sons of Mr. Courtland— and the daughter as well, it was rumoured throughout the Port, for it was known that Miss Courtland could sail a boat as well as either of her brothers, and such an accomplishment does not come by nature.

The eldest of the Courtland family was Geoffrey, and the youngest was Tom, whose conversation with Peter has just been recorded. He was sixteen years of age, his sister Bertha being nineteen, and his brother Geoffrey three years older still.

Eighteen months previous to this day, when Tom overtook the old man strolling along the sandy beach of the bay, and accompanied him to his cottage at the Port, Geoffrey Courtland had gone on a voyage to the East in a fine, full-rigged ship, the Black Swan. He had just won a scholarship at his college; but it seemed that the honour had been too dearly purchased, for he had returned from Oxford looking so haggard, and feeling so weak, that the doctors who were consulted on the subject of his condition, had ordered him to take a long sea voyage, and to abstain from work of every kind. A passage in the Black Swan was obtained without delay, as it was thought he would derive more benefit from being on board a sailing-ship than a steamship, and in due course a letter had been received from him dated from the Cape, and, subsequently, one from Bombay. Then came the news that the ship had been spoken further east, but after that—a blank. The people at Courtlands waited day after day, week after week, month after month for tidings of the ship, but none came. Mr. Courtland wrote to the owners of the Black Swan, inquiring if any news of her voyage had been obtained, and he received a courteous business-like answer to the effect that since the publication of the fact that she had been spoken on her course to Eastern Australia, no communication respecting her safety had reached the owners.

At the end of four months, Mr. Courtland hastened to Liverpool, and drove to the office of the owners of the Black Swan. In the outer room a woman was sitting, crying bitterly. While he sent in his card to the managing owner, he ventured to inquire what was the cause of the woman’s grief. She told him that her husband was the second mate of the Black Swan, and that the owners were in the habit of paying her three-fourths of his wages at the office upon the first of every month. They had paid her regularly until the previous instalment had come due, and then they had, after some hesitation, given her the money.

“ But now,” said she, “ they have sent me out a message that there is no more money coming to me; they have given up all hope of the ship. She is lost, they say, and my husband with her, and they will not pay a man’s wages when they have removed his name from the book of their crews.”

Mr. Courtland turned away. He tried to say a few words of hope to the woman, but his voice faltered, he broke down completely, and when the clerk, to whom he had given his card, reappeared, he found Mr. Courtland seated in one of the chairs with his head bent forward buried in his hands.

Mr. Courtland did not wait to have an interview with the managing owner of the Black Swan, who, he was informed, was now at leisure; he left the office, taking with him the woman with whose sorrow he had such reason for sympathizing. He went to her house, and remained there for some hours, for now he found words of comfort to speak to her, and speaking such words brought comfort to his own heart.

“I cannot bring myself to believe that the ship is lost,” he said; “and to show you that I have more than hope in her safety, I will send you every month the sum which you were in the habit of receiving from the owners; when the ship comes home, and you receive the arrears of pay, you can refund me.”

He left Mrs. Borrowdaile—that was her name —with hope in her heart, such as she had not known since the Black Swan became overdue.

Mr. Courtland, however, was not so successful in his endeavour to impart fresh hope to his wife. This lady, who loved her eldest son with a tenderness that seemed to increase the longer they were separated, listened to the words her husband spoke; to the stories which he told her he had heard in Liverpool of ships being many months overdue, and yet reaching port in safety; of ships being lost at sea, and yet every one on board being saved in the boats. Many such tales Mr. Courtland told his wife, but he did not tell her that the owners had declined to pay the wages of the second mate of the Black Swan to the woman whom they regarded as his widow. Mrs. Courtland was not, however, to be deceived by tales. She knew that her husband had obtained bad news at Liverpool—that he had little or no hope for the safety of the ship.

Then Tom had come back [from school—for the month was September; and it was understood that he was about to prepare for entering Oxford. The boy felt with terrible vividness the change that had come over the household at Courtlands, where every one had been accustomed to make merry. Even his sister Bertha, who had always been the first to meet him on his coming home for the holidays, with an amusing chronicle of the events that had taken place at the village since his previous visit, had nothing to say to him that might dispel the cloud which he felt Was hanging over the house.

Poor Tom was very miserable, and, even after his interview with Peter Crosby on the second evening after his return, he did not feel much happier, though the old man fancied he had told the boy some very cheering stories.

CHAPTER III.
TOM MAKES UP HIS MIND.

ON leaving the old man in his cottage in the front row of the houses comprised in the village of Utterport, Tom Courtland walked on to the little beach of pebbles where the fishing-boats were hauled up. There was a general odour of fish about this part of the coastway, and one could know, it was said, when one was passing this beach, even in a ship miles out at sea. There was always a net or two hung up to dry upon poles, and occasionally a freshly patched sail— the brown sails were invariably patched with white, but some were so extensively patched it would have been impossible to tell whether the original material had been brown or white.

A few of the fishermen were working at one of the boats, whistling and laughing, as was their wont. As soon as they noticed Tom approaching they became silent, and touched their caps respectfully. When he had passed on a little way he could hear the men talking in whispers together; he knew that they were making some remark about his brother. They were saying that “Master Jeff,” as he was called, should never appear by the side of his brother again. That respectful silence which fell upon the men as Tom passed told him exactly what they thought about the absence of Geoffrey.

He walked on until he reached the summit of the long line of black cliffs beyond the crescent beach, and threw himself down upon the short, tawny herbage that was scattered about in patches along the ground for many a mile; then looking out to the sea that was now steel-grey in the cold light of the autumn evening, he gave himself up to his gloomy thoughts.

There was no wind, but the sea’s voice was heard through the still air as the waves of the flowing tide broke among the large rocks at the foot of the line of cliffs, and this sound mingled with the moan of the distant waters—that strange, mysterious voice which seems to come from beyond the horizon—from the meeting-place of the sky and the sea. Then, as the evening became more dim, there drew nigh to the boy the cries of the birds of passage that were beginning their flight to the South.

He listened to the sounds for a long time.

“They seem to be calling ‘ Follow, follow/ to me,” he said. “ I wish I could follow them, and learn at least the truth about the dear old boy. Oh, Jeff, Jeff, old Jeff! why don’t you send us a message to say if you are alive? This waiting without hope will kill us all. But what can we do? What can we do? I would go out over that water in search of you, Jeff, if I knew in what direction I should go. I am tired of waiting here without you—I am, indeed. If I could only get a sign from you, asking me to search for you, I would go away and search for you until I died.”

The tears were in his eyes as he spoke. No sign came to him from the sea, and the laughter and the snatch of a song that came from a boat which was being rowed out to the fishing-ground for the night, seemed to mock his grief.

He got upon his feet once again and walked hastily inland from the cliffs. He reached the coast road, and went along between the hedges that grew in a straggling fashion on either side. He did not stop until the old square church tower was before him. In a few minutes he was at the iron gate, which he opened, passing through to the little avenue and walking up to the porch, around which the ivy clung in heavy tangled masses. There was a movement among the leaves as he approached; the birds that found a sanctuary there were just settling themselves down for the night. Even this trifling incident served to recall to the boy more vividly than ever, recollections of his absent brother. He remembered how Geoffrey had told him long ago, as they had stood together at the church porch and had heard the rustling of the ivy leaves through the still evening, that it was a sign the old birds were going up to their nurseries to “ tuck in ” their babies and make them snug for the night. Tom remembered now how they had laughed over the idea upon that evening long ago—so very long ago it seemed that everything in the world had changed since then.

While the boy stood there in the dimness, leaning against one of the buttresses of the old church, suddenly there came to his ears the sound of faint music. It was some time before he was able to know whence the music arose. Taking a few steps out from the wall of the church, he perceived that there was a light inside —a very faint light that was hardly sufficient to bring out the crimson and blue robes of the saints that were pictured upon the stained glass of the oriel window. Some one, he knew, was playing upon the organ in the empty church.

He listened closely, and then he heard the sound of a sweet, sympathetic voice singing the anthem—

“ Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord,”

The sound of the organ mingling with that voice, so full of expression, so full of tenderness, went out into the dimness of the evening and joined the faint sound of the sea that was never silent. The boy listened as if he were hearing in a dream mysterious voices from another world. He listened until the music waned away and only the moan of the sea was heard. Then he went round once more to the porch, gently pushed open the door, and entered the old church with its high-backed oak pews and dark rafters, and its quaintly carved lectern and pulpit.

The only light in the church came from the organ candles; but it was sufficient to show him the figure of a girl sitting on the stool in front of the instrument, with her head bowed down to the ivory keys. The light shone upon her bright hair until it seemed to him like the golden halo round the head of a pictured saint. He stole softly up the steps to the organ-loft, and then she raised her head. The light was not so dim but that he could see the tears that wetted her face.

It was Grace Marchmont, the eldest daughter of the Rector of Utterport, and she had been engaged to be married to Geoffrey for more than a year before he had left home.

“ I was passing the church and I stopped to hear you play. Gracie,” said Tom. “I heard what you were singing. It was his favourite anthem.”

“ He brought it to me,” she said in a low tone. “He brought it to me. It was his favourite; it is mine now.”

“ I have been thinking about him all day,” he said, after a pause. “ How could I help it? The place does not seem like the same when he is away. No one seems the same. My father is changed altogether, and my mother—oh, Grade, I think she will not live through the winter. Bertha is the only one I can talk to.”

“You can talk to me, Tom dear. You will find me the same. Though I should live to be a hundred, I shall never give up hoping to see him again in safety. My dear, I can’t help feeling sad—very sad at times—I feel so just now—but soon my hope returns. Oh, dear old Tom, this faith is the best gift one can possess, and I do possess.it. I believe Geoffrey is safe—I can’t tell you why I believe it, but I feel that he is. We shall see him again, and all be happy together.”

“ Oh, Gracie, do you really feel so? Do tell my mother this; it will comfort her greatly, because I know that she feels more for you than for any one else. If he were at home now we would be looking forward to your marriage. It was to be before Christmas, Jeff told me when he was going away,”

“ Yes, before Christmas; ” the girl turned away with what sounded very like a sob. Tom took her hand and pressed it affectionately. In another moment she seemed to have recovered herself. “ And why might we not still be married before Christmas? ” she said with a smile—a smile that caused a tear to fall from her eye upon his hand. “ Why might I not still be able to keep the promise I made to him just outside the porch, upon the last evening he was with us? ”

“ Oh, Gracie, if it might only be.”

“ Why might it not be? Oh, if you knew how I feel about him, Tom dear! I cannot believe that he is lost to us. Should I not feel if he were lost? Do not tell me that I am talking nonsense—that I am talking wildly. Oh, Tom, he had become so dear to me; he is still so dear to me! ”

Once again she threw herself down upon the organ-stool, and bowed her head to her hands upon the keys of the instrument.

“ Gracie,” said the boy after a pause, “ I was going up to the Rectory to tell you what I have had on my mind—to tell you the resolution I have come to. I am going away to look for Geoffrey.”

She started up and caught his hand.

“ You are? You are indeed?” she cried. “ Oh,

I knew you would do so. I knew you would not be content to remain here while he was away. Often and often during the past month I have been thinking of asking you if you would do this. Oh, if I were not a poor weak girl, I would have gone away myself to look for him —to find him as you will, Tom—as you will. Think of him wrecked, perhaps, on some shore which no ship ever approaches—perhaps among savages. Think how many stories—every one of them true—the people at Utterport tell regarding their fathers, their brothers, their friends, who have been mourned as dead, but who have afterwards turned up quite safe.”

“ Old Peter reminded me of some when I saw him just now,” said Tom. “ He believes, as you do, that Jeff is not lost, though nothing has been heard respecting the ship for so many months, and though the owners believe that she has foundered at sea, or been wrecked upon some dangerous reef. It is quite true what you say, dear: the ship may have been lost and Geoffrey saved, though he may have found himself in some place from which he could not write to us—there are lots of places in the world still without postmen. Yes, I shall go, Gracie. I shall go for your sake, for all our sakes. I shall find him if he is alive.”

“You will indeed, with God’s help, Tom,” cried the girl. “ I wish, oh, I wish I could go with you. Still, if I cannot go with you, I can pray for you. I will never cease to pray for you, Tom. God bless you, my dear boy, my brother! ” They went out of the old church together, and up to the Rectory that stood at a short distance from the gate, and here they parted.

CHAPTER IV.
A STRANGE SAILOR.

TOM COURTLAND, on leaving the Rectory, hurried along the road toward Courtlands. His heart was full of the plan that he had proposed to Grace—full of the hope that he might be able to discover, at least, tidings of his brother. Even if the worst had happened, and Geoffrey were no longer alive, Tom knew that his father, and mother, and sister, and the girl who was as much to him as a sister, could bear the tidings better than the terrible suspense in which they were now living. He hurried along the road with beating heart, resolving to tell his father of the hope that had taken possession of him. So absorbed was he in the idea of finding the brother whom he loved so dearly, that he never contemplated the possibility of his father’s opposition to the scheme; the course which he was desirous of pursuing seemed so plain to him, he never thought of the likelihood of its appearing unwise to other people.

The road was very dark at this time, for the moon had not yet risen, and the air of the early night was anything but clear; scarcely a star appeared in the sky above him.

When he had come within a short distance of the entrance to the grounds of his father’s house, he was somewhat startled by the striking of a match under the wayside hedge a few yards ahead. The little spark of flame made in this way was sufficient to show him, leaning up against the hedge, the figure of a man in the ordinary fisherman’s attire of Utterport. He was lighting his pipe with the match, and at every puff that he gave, his face glowed as the little flame of the match leaped up for an instant.

Tom wondered what should bring one of the fishermen so far from the village at this time, when he knew all the boats would be on the point of starting for their night’s work. He went close to the man in order that he might see who he was, for Tom knew every one at Utterport; but he soon perceived that this man was a stranger, though undoubtedly a sailor.

The man straightened himself up from the hedge against which he had been leaning, and took the pipe out of his mouth, as Tom peered somewhat rudely into his face.

“ I beg your pardon,” said the boy, politely, endeavouring to atone for his seeming rudeness, “ but I fancied I knew you. I took you for one of the Utterport fishermen. It is very dark to-night.”

“Very dark, sir,” said the stranger, not returning his pipe to his mouth. “Being a stranger in these parts it’s a bit awkward for me. I asked the course down below, but I don’t think I can steer by the bearings they gave me.”

“Maybe I can help you,” said Tom. “Perhaps you wish to go to Avonford; if so, you should have taken the road further inland.”

“No, sir; Avonford is not the name of the port I am running for,” replied the stranger. “ I am bound for a house that the fisherboys told me was about here, though I haven’t managed to come upon it yet.”

“ Had the house got a name? or have you the name of the person who lives in it? ”

“ I have got the name, sir, somewhere about me, but not in my head. I don’t doubt but I’ll come across the place before night.”

The man evidently felt that he was unduly occupying the time of the young gentleman. No men are, as a rule, so considerate as sailors, and this one was no exception to the rule.

“I am in no hurry,” said Tom, “and if I can help you in your search I will gladly do so; I know every house in this neighbourhood, from Utterport to Avonford.”

“ I’m much obliged to you, sir,” replied the stranger. “ I’ve got a piece of paper with the name on it in my pocket, and mayhap you can spell it out by the light of a match. Here’s the paper, and here’s the matches. There’s not enough wind to put out the flame, and we are to the leeward of the hedge. Now then, master, stand by to read when I strike the match.”

Tom had the paper with the writing on it in his hand, the man struck a light and held it down to the paper, making a lantern of his hands. The flame gleamed for an instant upon the writing, and Tom uttered a cry of surprise, for the name that he read was—“ Mr. Courtland, of Courtlands, near Utterport.”

“ Do you know the house, sir? ” asked the man.

“ Do I know it? Why, I was born in it! Mr. Courtland, whose name is on this paper, is my father. Have you a message for him? Do you wish to see him? ”

The man fell back a step or two and put the paper once more into his pocket.

“ Your father?” he said. “Yes. i have a— a sort of message for him, leastways a kind of letter—”

A sudden thought struck the boy. He caught the man’s arm suddenly, saying in a whisper— “ You are not one of the crew of the Black Swan? You do not bring news of my brother’s death? ”

“ No, sir, no,” the man replied. “ I never saw that craft in my life, but—is your father an old man, sir? ”

“ No,” said Tom, wondering at the question; “ I don’t think he is over fifty. Why do you ask such a question? "

“And your mother, sir—she is alive? Is she in good health—not weak, or like to be overcome by any news she may hear of a sudden? ”

“I know now what you mean,” said Tom. “ I know now that you bring news of my brother —he is dead—he is dead! ”

“ Hold hard, sir! ” cried the man. “You are going ahead too fast, you have got too much way on. I didn’t say naught about any party being lost. I didn’t hear that anybody was in that way—leastways it’s not certain. I think I’d better go on to your father, sir; though if I had given thought beforehand as to how to this business would turn out I would have stood by my ship.”

He picked up a small bundle that he had laid on the ground beneath the hedge after he had spoken, and showed himself anxious to go on.

“Wait for one moment, and then we shall go on together,” said Tom. “Tell me at once the worst there is to be told. Do you know if my brother is alive or dead? ”

“I don’t know,” the man replied. “Why, I don’t know who your brother is. I’m only a messenger, sir. My duty doesn’t go further than to give a piece of paper into the hands it was meant for, and I only wish that somebody else had been told off for the duty. The name of the person I want to see is on that paper you read, and if you will have the kindness to bring me to him I will be obliged to you.”

“Come with me,” cried Tom; “we have remained too long here already.”

The stranger shouldered his bundle, and they hurried together along the road toward Court-lands.

CHAPTER V.
A MESSAGE FROM THE DEEP.

SCARCELY a word was exchanged between Tom Courtland and the stranger until they had reached the great gate at the entrance to the avenue of oaks leading up to the square, grey, solid mansion of Courtlands.

As they stood in front of the great door, studded with iron, while the bell jangled inside in response to Tom’s vigorous pull of the handle, the sailor removed his cap and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his pilot coat.

“ Ay,” he muttered, “ I wish it had fallen to somebody else to bear my message; but when I’m in for it I'll not start tack nor sheet till I’ve done my duty.”

The servant who opened the door stared at the stranger, who was asked by Master Tom to walk inside.

“ Is my father in the house? ” the boy inquired.

“ He is in the library, Master Tom,” answered the servant, leading the way across the great hall. The sailor found it less easy to walk upon the polished floor than upon the deck of a ship in a gale.

“They’ve been swabbed with a will, these planks, but not by that gentlemanly young fellow with the white calves and the hair dabbed with flour,” he murmured, for he felt that he must make some effort to keep up his courage, which was quickly sinking beneath the influence of the footman, who led the way across the hall as if he owned the entire house, but was condescending enough to be friendly to the visitors.

Mr. Courtland was seated at a desk in the dimly lighted room. He looked up on his son’s entrance; seeing the stranger, and perceiving that he was a sailor, he gave a little start.

“ Father,” said the boy, “ this is a seaman whom I overtook on the road out from the village. He has a message to deliver. I think it refers to Geoffrey.”

Mr. Courtland started up.

“A message—a message—from him—from my boy—he lives, then—he gave you the message for me? ”

He had grasped the sailor by the arm in his excitement.

“ I ask your pardon, sir,” said the man, quite put out by the vehemence of Mr. Courtland. “ I ask your pardon for coming to you in this fashion; but you see I’m boatswain aboard the barque Titania, and she just put into dock at Bayport yesterday, and the skipper says to me, ‘ Raymond,’ says he—that’s my name, sir— Joseph Raymond—‘ as it was you that picked up the bottle,’ says the skipper, ‘ it’s your duty to put it and the paper into the hands it’s meant for.’ He says that, sir, or I wouldn’t have taken the liberty to come here to meet you or the young gentleman.”

“ I don’t quite understand you, my man,” said Mr. Courtland, endeavouring to conceal his impatience. “ I have received no paper from you.”

“No, sir; not yet; I’m coming to that,” said the man, wiping his forehead—the interview was beginning to be too much for him. “You see, sir, I shipped as boatswain in the Titania fifteen months ago, the voyage being to ’Frisco, from there to Shanghai, and through the China Seas to Sydney, for home’ard cargo. We made a fairish good run, sir, taking one thing with another, for we rounded the Horn without having to take in a reef—without having to shift a bit o’ canvas whatsoever. It was cold enough at Shanghai, for you must know, sir, that people that talks of going to China as if they was a-going to the hottest country on a chart o’ the world, little knows what they be a-talking of. Why, sir, I’ve seen it that sharp to the north’ard in the China Seas that our ratlines was covered with icicles every night; of course, as you sail south—”

“Yes, yes, my good fellow,” cried Mr. Courtland, laying his hand upon the man’s arm persuasively; “ I have heard that what you say is true; but remember that we are waiting to hear the message you hinted at just now. We have been in suspense for many months. Tell us all you know—all—let it be the worst—we can bear it better than this horrible suspense.”

Once more the man drew his sleeve across his forehead. He glanced down to the bundle, made up in a large silk handkerchief, lying on the floor.

“ If it lay with me, sir, you would have had it all out at once,” said the stranger, apologetically; “but the fact is, sir, our skipper gave me a talking to about how to break the news to you.

‘ Don’t blurt it out at once, Joe,’ says the skipper to me, ‘ but get into talk with them first; bear up now and again for the story of how you picked up the bottle, but sheer off,’ says he—he’s a sharp man, that skipper of ours—‘sheer off when you come in sight o’ the paper inside the bottle till you can break it to them gradual like’—not the bottle, but the news, sir. ‘The feelings,’ says he, ‘is like a halliard when the ship is being put about: if you let it go sudden, the strain makes it snap, but if you ease it handsomely you’re all right.”’

“And you have done all that,” said Mr. Courtland. “You have nothing to reproach yourself with ; you have sheered away often enough. If you have any news of my son, tell it to me, I implore of you, at once—at once! ”

The boatswain of the Titania looked at Mr. Courtland, then at Tom, in silent protest against the violation of the system laid down apparently with great clearness by his captain. Then, with what sounded like a sigh, he knelt upon one knee and unfastened the knot of the handkerchief.

Out of the bundle he extracted a bottle— a clear glass bottle that had probably once held lemonade, for upon the glass the name “ Schweppes ” was embossed. This he handed up to Mr. Courtland, who took it mechanically.

The man silently turned over the other articles in the bundle, and finally brought forth a brand-new tin tobacco-box. He got upon his feet, and in the silence of the room one could hear the rasping of his thumb-nail against the edge of the lid in his vain attempts to “prise” it open: the box being a new one, the lid fitted tightly down upon it. At last, however, it flew up, and the sailor, with an exclamation of satisfaction, extracted a small piece of soiled paper, carefully folded so as to fit into the tobacco-box. He unfolded the paper, taking a long time to do it—Tom saw how his hands were trembling as he handed it to Mr. Courtland.

They were trembling indeed, but not so violently as Mr. Courtland’s as he grasped the paper and brought it under the light of the lamp to read the words that were written upon one side.

Mr. Courtland read the words. He gave a groan and fell into a chair, covering his face with his hands.

“ My boy, my boy! ” was all he said, but his utterance was sufficient to tell the agony of his heart.

“The skipper was right—quite right—he’s always right,” murmured the boatswain of the Titania. “ I brought it out too abrupt like. I should have sheered off a bit and luffed up to the wind for a while. See how he takes it! Oh, there’s none of us knows how to do these things like the skipper.”

Tom went to his father and laid his hand upon his shoulder.

“May I read the paper?” he asked in a low voice.

His father silently thrust it into his hand.

Beneath the light of the lamp the boy read the words that were written in pencil upon the paper.

“ Ship‘Black Swan’ struck by cyclone on night of Dec. 22, dismasted and water-logged . . . only one boat remains . . . they are launching it now . . . Captain says no hope ... I am prepared ... if this is picked up at sea or on shore, will the finder, out of charity, send it to the father of the writer, at Court lands, near Utterport, England?

“ Captain says our chances of safety . . . give up all hope ... see us again ...”

The fragmentary form of the writing was due to the way the paper was torn. Indeed, it was so ragged it was remarkable that it did not drop all to pieces the instant it was touched.

On the back of the sheet, Tom read the words—

“ To Dear old Jeff,

“from Tom,

" Wishing you many happy returns of your fifteenth birthday, old boy.”

The boy had read one side of the leaf without giving way, but when he saw his own writing of seven years ago, and knew that it was the inscription upon the first page of a book which he had given as a birthday present to his brother Geoffrey, he burst into tears.

The boatswain of the Titania was apparently a very hard-hearted man, for at this point he began whistling an air through his set teeth in quite a careless way as he knelt beside his bundle and knotted the ends of the handkerchief once more; but his fingers fumbled curiously over the knots, and instead of tying the two opposite ends together, he made fast the corners at the same side, so that when he went to lift up the bundle the contents rolled out upon the floor.

He started and drew his sleeve across his eyes.

“ The skipper was right—quite right,” he muttered. “ I should have beat about a bit afore picking out that there flag o’ distress from the signal-box. It’s too much for them. The skipper would say it were overmuch for me too, if he didn’t know that I was as tough as a junk of navy pork.”

At this moment the door opened, and there appeared the figure of a fair-haired girl of about nineteen, in dinner dress. She paused at the door, looking from Tom to his father in a startled way, and finally at the stranger.

“ Oh! ” cried the boatswain, in despair; “ oh, this is the last straw! It's like hitting a man when he’s down, this is. I wish I was well out of it all.”

CHAPTER VI.
“I MEAN TO FIND HIM.”

“FATHER—Tom—what is the matter?” said the girl, entering the room. “ Ah, I know—I know you have bad news! Oh, Tom, Tom, tell me all; don’t you know I can bear the worst? ”

The boy looked up with streaming eyes.

“ Oh, Bertha, the worst has come,” he cried— “ that has come ”—he put the paper into her hand; “ to think of it all—oh, to think of it! It is the leaf out of a book I gave him years ago. It was picked up by the boatswain of a ship called the Titania—”

“Barque Titania, sir, Rogers, master, picked up bottle floating lat. i6° 30" south, long. 156° 10" east.”

The man found that he must ease his mind by saying something. He watched the young lady reading the paper. She did not shriek out as he expected she would. Her lips quivered for a moment, and one of her hands was pressed against her side, as if to quiet the wild beating of her heart Her face, under the light of the lamp, became deathly pale, he could see; still she did not cry out, as he had heard that all girls did at the smallest excuse, and for this forbearance he felt grateful to her. He had no confidence in his own power to remain in the presence of a shrieking lady.

Suddenly she looked up from the paper to the boatswain.

“You picked up this at sea?” she said, quietly. Her voice was wonderfully calm.

“Yes, miss; lat. i6° 30" south, long. 156° 10" east. You see I’m bo’sun of the barque Titania, Rogers, master. It was in a dead calm in the Southern Seas, I had launched a boat with two men in it to fish, when I cast my eyes upon the neck o’ that bottle bobbing about not a cable’s length from us. I picked up the bottle and found the paper inside, and the skipper gave me orders to bring it here, which I wish he hadn’t, for it seems that I didn’t sheer off enough before giving up the paper. It broke them down, miss, and I humbly ask their pardon.”

“Why should they be broken down?” said the girl. “ Have you not brought us news of one who was very dear to us, and whom we thought to be dead? There is nothing in this paper to make us feel utterly hopeless.”

“ Not a word, miss; not a word,” cried the man, enthusiastically. “ That’s what I’ve been a-trying for to say, but somehow it didn’t come so ready to me as it do to you, miss.”

“ Father,” said the girl, laying her hand upon Mr. Courtland’s shoulder. He still sat with his head bowed down to his hands. “Father, why should you be overcome by the sight of this paper? Surely you do not look upon it as proof-conclusive that Geoffrey is lost? It seems to me that it should have just the opposite tendency.”

Mr. Courtland looked up. He grasped his daughter’s hand and shook his head without uttering a word.

“You really cannot have read the message that Providence in so wonderful a way has put into our hands,” she continued with some reproach in her voice.

“What does it say?” asked her father in a low tone.

“ Why, it tells that the ship was disabled by a sudden cyclone, and that she was sinking; but they were launching a boat which they would have plenty of time to load with provisions, to sustain them until picked up by a passing vessel, or until they should reach some of the islands.

You see where the last sentences have been torn—”

“ That wasn’t my fault, miss,” said the boatswain, apologetically; “ it were caused by a leak in the cork, and the corners of the paper got damp and fell off when the skipper opened the paper.”

“ I am sure it was not your fault,” she said; “but if you supply words for those that are missing in the last paragraph, it will read, ‘ Captain says our chances of safety are strongs so that our friends need not give up all hope that they shall see us again? ”

“ Bravo, miss! ” cried the boatswain, enthusiastically. “ Right you are, miss, though none of us was clever enough to see the matter in that light before now. Why, it’s as clear as daylight that the words that fell off with the mouldy paper are as the young lady says, ‘we’re all right,’ says the gentleman that wrote the paper. ‘Don’t make yourselves uneasy about us,’ he says; and when a man writes like that, take my word for it, he’s all right; he’ll turn up before long. Now, sir, cheer up, all’s not so bad as it seems.”

Tom Courtland felt himself encouraged in the operation of cheering up by a few hearty slaps on the back. He had the paper in his hand, and was eagerly scanning it.

“You are right, Bertha,” he cried. “Father, she is right. There is just room on the torn spaces for the words Bertha has supplied. Examine the paper and you will see this.”

Mr. Courtland took the paper in his hand, and held it under the lamp, for his eyes were not so good as his son’s.

“ I admit that what you say in this respect is reasonable,” he said; “ but read the first part of the message, ‘ Captain says no hope; ’ how do you reconcile that with the possibility of safety? ”

“ Why, father, do you not see that the second part of the message is meant to be different from the first? If nothing had occurred to alter the aspect of the situation, what would be the use of writing another sentence beyond the first? I see everything clearly. At first the disaster to the ship made all aboard feel that destruction was staring them in the face, and at this time Geoffrey wrote the first part of his message; but soon the captain came to see that the aspect of affairs was not so hopeless as it seemed, and this caused Geoffrey to add the paragraph which should, I am convinced, read as I have said.” “Why, that’s the case in a nutshell,” cried the boatswain of the Titania heartily; he had gained courage by the words of Miss Courtland, and was no longer the shy man he had seemed to be on entering the room. “The young lady’s right, sir; she’s even righter nor our skipper, and he’s never out in his reckoning. Yes, sir, make your mind easy, you’ll see the gentleman that wrote them lines before many months has gone by. He’s safe enough.”

“ He is safe,” cried Tom, “and I mean to find him and to bring him home.”

“ Bravo, sir! ” said the stranger—he was getting bolder and bolder every minute. “ Bravo! says I, and so says all of us. Why, I’d no notion of the turn things was going to take in this saloon.” “ My boy,” said Mr. Courtland to Tom, “do not settle anything in your mind until we have talked over the matter in all its phases. Where would you expect to find Geoffrey? Even assuming that he was in the boat which you suppose was launched from the ill-fated ship, you cannot expect that it would remain at the same latitude and longitude all this time. Supposing the ship or the boat had been picked up by another vessel, the owners would have been communicated with months ago, and a letter would have been forwarded from the first port at which the vessel touched.”

“ I see that clearly,” said Tom; “ but supposing that the boat were to find its way to a place that didn’t possess a post-office where you could drop a letter in, to be sent by a mail steamer and delivered at any place in England in due course? ”

“ Exactly so,” said the boatswain shaking his head shrewdly, as though he knew all about the matter. “Just you suppose what the young gentleman says.”

“You think that the boat may have found its way to some island in the Southern Seas that is never visited by trading ships? ” said Mr. Courtland.

“What more likely?” said Tom. “I believe that has happened, and so does Grace March-mont. I have just parted from her, and I have given her my promise to find Geoffrey.”

Mr. Courtland seated himself and appeared lost in thought. In the silence the boatswain made many pantomimic signs both to Tom and his sister, expressive of his approbation of the stand they were taking. He imitated the waving of a flag above his head, then winked with his left eye, and afterwards with his right, at the boy. Turning to the young lady, he shook his head admiringly, and simulated the action of patting her on the back. As soon as Mr. Court-land rose from his seat, the sailor assumed a face so solemn that Bertha could not help laughing, in spite of the anxiety that was upon her heart.

“No, no,” said Mr. Courtland quickly, “we shall not decide anything in a moment on this matter; we shall have to talk it over together. If I were to lose you also, Tom, what would life be worth to me? Oh, I cannot think of your running the risk, my boy. To lose my eldest son has almost broken my heart, and if—”

“But you have not lost him, father,” said Bertha. “ Do not think that you have lost him. You must get back the hope that you used to have.”

“ I must confess,” said her father, “ that I do not feel so utterly prostrate now, as I did when I first received that paper with Geoffrey’s handwriting upon it. I owe this to you, dearest child; but what do we not owe to you, my good friend, for your disinterested kindness to us all?” He put out his hand to the boatswain whom he was addressing, and the man grasped it after first wiping his own palm with great vigour upon the leg of his trousers.

“ Why, sir,” said he, “ I don’t know as how I have done anything worth thanks, only, you see, as it was me that picked up the bottle, our skipper would have it that it was my duty to put it into the hands it was meant for. As the barque was bound for Bayport, it was nothing for me to run down here. Besides that, sir, if you don’t mind my saying it—though it’s a liberty, I admit—I’ve had a sort of interest in this affair ever since I come across that bottle with the paper inside. I’ve known before now of men having to make a post-bag of a bottle and a post-office of the sea—it’s an unsatisfactory sort o’ mail sarvice that—being most irreg’lar—but I never myself become one of its postmen till now. Yes, sir, it was a great liberty I took, but many a time on the run home I found myself on my watch on deck thinking over the matter, and wondering if I’d hear the end of it. So, sir, I make my respecks to you and to the young lady, sir, that has a fine spirit to go through the world with; and the young gentleman too, sir, that ’ll find his brother, never you fear. My humble respecks to you all.’’

He gave a jerky bow towards each of the occupants of the room in turn, and, picking up his bundle, was about to make for the door, when Mr. Courtland came forward and declared that he would not hear of his leaving the house before morning.

“You will go to the butler’s room and have supper, and afterwards we shall, I hope, have the benefit of your advice as to what course should be pursued in this matter, which is one of life and death to us,” said Mr. Courtland; and Tom, interrupting the man’s protestations of being unprepared for such an honour, hurried him out of the room and presented him in due course to Mr. Bennett, the old butler—a personage who, as the boatswain of the Titania found out before long, had studied in the com-pletest way the art of making people comfortable. He knew exactly what every person in every condition of life wanted under all circumstances, and he was fully prepared to prescribe for the stranger, who was now handed over to him. He heard immediately from the man himself that he had walked the eight miles from the nearest railway station at Avonford, and that he had “grubbed,” as he called the operation of dining, about noon. Having these few particulars to go upon, Mr. Bennett had no difficulty in marking out a course of life for the man for the next hour and a half. The boatswain confessed as he lit his pipe, and stirred the decoction he had in the tumbler before him, that the boiled beef of Courtlands was, on the whole, preferable to the “salt horse” of the barque Titania. The butler had no difficulty in believing this statement.

Not until the night had advanced considerably did the boatswain join Mr. Courtland and his family in the library; and in the meantime the butler had told him the story of Master Geoffrey’s life—how he had been beloved by all the people in the neighbourhood, and how he had gone away in the unfortunate Black Swan, looking pale and delicate, but with a cheery word for every one to whom he had said good-bye.

“If you want to know what Master Geoffrey was like, at his best, before he took to those studies that pulled him down so, you just go and look at Master Tom,” said the butler. “It is no wonder that the two were more than brothers in affection, for they are as like one another in face as ever two people were on this earth. Though there’s more than five years between them in age, Master Tom is within a couple of inches of being as tall as his brother, and since Master Geoffrey’s letters came to a standstill, Master Tom has looked full five years older.”

“ Never mind, sir,” said the boatswain; “when he finds his brother—as find him he will—those five years will drop off his life as clean as you are shaving the rind off that lemon, though if you’re doing it to mix a fresh tumbler of punch for me, I must cry ‘ avast! ’ I make it a point never to take more nor three tumblers as you mix it, sir. There’s many a man that thinks half a dozen tumblers not a drop too much, but three is my allowance, sir ”

In the library, Joe Raymond, the boatswain of the Titania, found Mr. Courtland and Mrs. Courtland, with Tom and the young lady, busily engaged marking off certain points on a large map of the Southern Seas. They had found the latitude and longitude where the bottle bear ing the precious message had been picked up. It was at a part of the Pacific off the northeast of Australia; but Raymond explained that, as the current in this neighbourhood bore south at an average rate of nearly two knots an hour at the Monsoons, the latitude and longitude where the bottle had been picked up should not be regarded as within many miles of where the bottle had been thrown overboard. Assuming that it had been drifting in that current for the seventy days, it would not be unreasonable to come to the conclusion that the Black Swan had met with the disaster more than a thousand miles to the north, and the boat would in that case either have made for Torres Strait, where there would be some chance of being picked up by a passing vessel, or have sailed to some of the islands with a view simply of saving the lives of those aboard. It was obvious, assuming that the boat had been successfully launched, and that it had survived the heavy seas which would follow the shock of the cyclone, that the captain had adopted the latter of the two courses, for the boat had certainly not been picked up.

“Yes,” said Tom, “I see it all clearly before me now. The boat has made its way to one of the islands, and there the survivors are today, and there they must remain until a chance ship releases them from their imprisonment, or until a special expedition goes in search of them. It remains for you, father, to say how they shall be saved.”

“Go, Tom, go; and God grant that you may be successful,” said Mr. Courtland solemnly.

The boy’s face flushed, and his heart beat very fast at having obtained permission to carry out the scheme which he had been thinking over for the past two days. He grasped his father by the hand without a word, and then went and kissed his mother.

“ Begging your pardon, sir, I would ask you not to make up your mind to anything in partic’lar without first seeing our skipper and having a talk with him,” said Raymond. “ Bless you, sir, he’s always right in what he does, and he’ll tell you in an hour more of what you should do, under all circumstances, than I could tell you in a year.”

“Good!” said Tom. “If my father gives me permission, I shall go with you to Bayport tomorrow, and not merely listen to the advice of Captain Rogers, but take it as well.”

“No one that ever took his advice was sorry for it,” said Raymond. “ There’s only one thing sure in this world, and that is that Captain Rogers of the Titania is never wrong.”

And with these words that seemed to express the principal article in his creed, he bowed to each of the occupants of the room and gracefully retired. Tom whispered something to his father, and then followed the boatswain to the butler’s room, where they sat round the fire, talking over adventures in strange seas, until Mr. Bennett declared that every one in the house had gone to bed, and he would not hear any more stories.

The boatswain protested that Mr. Bennett was in command of the room, and that every one was bound to obey his orders; so Tom with a laugh went off to his own apartment.

It was a long time, however, before he could go to sleep; and when at last he closed his eyes, he dreamt that he was sailing in the Little Sister over a broad sea, and from a rocky island in the centre his brother Geoffrey beckoned him to come to his assistance, when all at once the sea appeared to be covered with canoes manned by a strange race of blacks; the Little Sister seemed, however, to possess the power of an ironclad ram, for wherever she sailed, the canoes went down, and Tom thought that he reached the island in safety, and then sailed away with Geoffrey on board.

When he woke he recalled all the incidents of his dream. He wondered what it meant.

CHAPTER VII.
THE VIEWS OF CAPTAIN ROGERS.

EARLY the next day Tom Courtland started with Raymond, the boatswain, for the flourishing town of Bayport, where the Titania was docked; the boatswain, as usual, waxing enthusiastic in praise of Captain Rogers. When at last the vbarque was reached, Raymond took off his cap before a tall, well-made man, reporting himself, “ Come on board, sir,” and then, standing to one side as he introduced the young gentleman to Captain Rogers, he looked as if he expected to hear Tom express his open admiration for this wonderful master mariner.

However powerfully Tom may have been impressed on coming into the presence of Captain Rogers, he contrived to conceal his feelings. He shook hands with the captain, and in a very few words succeeded in explaining that he was brother to the writer of the message which had been picked up in the Southern Seas.

The captain looked at him with interest and extended his hand.

“When I sent the boatswain to deliver the paper to the person for whom it was intended,” said the captain, “ I never imagined that the matter would end there; I expected to be visited by some one who was interested in the writer of that paper. Come into my cabin and let us talk over the whole matter.”

Tom accompanied the captain into his room.

“ Before we begin to talk about the probabilities of my brother being alive,” said Tom, “ I should tell you that I have made up my mind that he is alive, and that it is my duty to go in search of him.”

“ So that nothing I may say will alter your belief?” said the captain with a smile.

“ I think you are justified in saying so much,” replied the boy after a pause. “ It seems foolish to you, no doubt, for a fellow to come to ask your advice on a subject when his mind is already made up; but I don’t think I need conceal from you anything of what I feel.”

“And let me tell you,” said the captain warmly, “ that I consider that no affair of this sort should be entered into in any other spirit than that which you have displayed. No man is worth his salt who does not make out a programme for himself, and endeavour with all his heart to follow it out to the end, if he believes it to be right Of course he never is able to work up to his programme, because he does not possess the power of foreseeing all the things that will crop up to thwart him; but if the programme cannot be fully carried out, it can be partly carried out, and partial success is better than nothing at all. Now that you have been frank with me, you may depend on my returning the compliment. I will tell you exactly what I believe to be your prospects of success in whatever attempt you may make to find your brother.”

“ We understand each other thoroughly," said Tom. He felt himself beginning to comprehend why the boatswain should have such an admiration for his captain.

“ Quite so,” said Captain Rogers, taking his log-book out of a locker. “Now will you have the goodness to tell me all you can about your brother and his voyage? He was, I conclude, a passenger aboard the Black Stvan? ”

“He was” said Tom, “but he thoroughly understood every point in the sailing of a ship.”,Tom then told the captain all that he knew regarding the voyage of the Black Swan up to the time the last letter from Geoffrey had been received—a letter which had been posted at Bombay.

The captain listened attentively, and then remarked, "You are no doubt aware, Mr. Courtland, that the underwriters have paid the insurance money on the Black Swan, and that the owners have given up all hope of her safety.”

“ Yes; I know that.”

“ And the owners are quite right. When the people who have insured the ship give up hope, and pay over the money to the owners, you may take it for granted that there is no hope that the ship is yet in existence. Underwriters are the most hopeful of men: they never pay a penny for the loss of a ship until they can t help it.”

“ But to assume the loss of the Black Swan is not to say that every one aboard was also lost,” said Tom.

“That is exactly what I was about to remark,” said the captain. “ Now here is the entry in my log-book about the picking up of the bottle by Raymond, my boatswain, when fishing in one of the boats.” He pushed the blue-covered book across the table at which they were sitting, and Tom read the formal entry of the finding of the bottle and a copy of the words written upon the paper that had been found within. “ Now turn to the next entry and you will find my calculation of the driftage of the bottle.”

“ The boatswain gave us the result of your calculation last night,” said Tom. “The only question that remains is, in my opinion, what course was taken by the boat which my brother says was about to be launched.”

“The nearest land is one of the islands,” said the captain; “ but I am not sure that the person in command of the boat would make for any of them. I am rather inclined to think that he would do his best to make the Australian coast, where he should have a chance of being reported, or of finding his way to civilization.”

“Why might he not have made for New Guinea?” inquired Tom.

“ On account of the many coral reefs about there,” replied the captain; “ this is one great source of danger, the other is the hostility of the natives along that coast; to get among them once would be to remain there for an indefinite period—most likely never again to see the face of a civilized creature. I could give you many instances that have occurred within my own experience to lead to this belief. I once was compelled to send a boat’s crew ashore to cut a spar to make a temporary bowsprit to replace one that had been carried away, but it took us all our time, as the Americans say, to reach the ship again in safety. Our expedition for the spar was likely to have been a sparring one in earnest.” Tom was silent for some time.

“ But you see,” said he at length, “ since so long a space has passed without any word being received from my brother, we must assume that he has been cast away on some shore from which he could not communicate with England, or, in fact, with any civilized people; so why should it not be reasonable to suppose that the boat had been compelled to make that land? ”

“What you say is quite right,” remarked the captain. “ When a man is in charge of a crew in an open boat, with, perhaps, provisions running short, he is inclined to be thankful when he comes in sight of any shore, without going into the question of whether it is the exact shore he would like to land upon.”

“ Now that we have come so far in our consideration of the matter,” said Tom, “perhaps you would kindly tell me what steps you think I should take in going in search of my brother? ” “The decision on that subject can only be come to after a good deal of thought, Mr. Court-land,” replied Captain Rogers, shaking his head. “ But now let us report progress. The conclusion we have come to up to the present is that Mr. Geoffrey Courtland, aged twenty-two, is now alive, but probably in great peril, upon some part of North-Eastern Australia, or upon some island lying between that coast and the South of China, and that he will remain there until he is rescued by some efficiently provided expedition organized for the purpose. That is our report up to the present? ”

“ It is,” said Tom. “ And now what we want to know is, how should this expedition be organized in order to have the greatest chance of success? ”

“ To-morrow is appointed for the second sitting of the conference on this subject,” cried Captain Rogers with a laugh. “ And now here comes the steward to lay the table for tiffin. He brings a second plate, you see, and I hope you will not upset his calculations by declining to be my guest. It may not be the last time you will sit in my cuddy.”

He gave his head a significant shake as he spoke his last sentence.

” I hope with all my heart it may not be the last time,” cried Tom. “Why should I not go out with you to the East on your next voyage, Captain Rogers? That would be a start for me, at any rate, in my search expedition.”

“That,” said the captain smiling, as he laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder—“that may form the subject for the second sitting of our conference—perhaps for the third.”

On coming on deck, after partaking of a capital lunch with Captain Rogers, Tom Courtland found Raymond, the boatswain.

“Well, sir,” whispered the boatswain, “haven’t you found out that he is a wonderful man? Hasn’t he put the whole thing into a nutshell for you? ”

“ He is a wonderful man, indeed,” said Tom.

“ Ah! ” cried the boatswain triumphantly. “ I knew you would say so as soon as you came within hail of him. He makes every one see that he’s right. The only one I ever knew that doubted him at all only did so once. He was a boy that shipped with us as an able-bodied seaman, and he began to jaw the captain about something the second day that he came aboard. ‘ You’re wrong,’ he said to the captain, quite saucy like. ‘We’ll see about that,’ said the captain, looking around to see if there was a rope’s end handy. Well, he picked up about a fathom of good, sound line, and he gives it a turn round his hand; the boy fancied he saw some one beckoning to him in the fore part o’ the ship, and made as though he were partic’lar uneasy to get for’ard. But he were a bit uneasier when the captain got his hand on his collar. Well, sir, in less than the turning of a fourteen-seconds log-glass that boy had changed his mind altogether about the captain. Oh, he’s a wonderful man for convincing another that he’s in the right.”

Tom laughed and declared that, so far as he was concerned, the captain would never need to bring forward, to prove that he was right, such powerful arguments as he had used with the ship’s boy, whose scepticism vanished under the persuasive influence of the fathom of trustworthy rope.

CHAPTER VIII.
“GIRLS DON’T COUNT.”

AT the railway station, when about to return to Avonford and thence to Courtlands, Tom suddenly felt a hand laid upon his shoulder as he strolled down the platform. Turning, he saw a tall, athletic man of perhaps a few years over twenty, who silently greeted him.

“Why, Fitz,” said Tom, “who would have expected to see you here? I thought you were in Ireland. How is it you have not been to see us for so long? ”

The stranger, whose name was Barry Fitzgerald, but who was better known among his friends as Fitz, seemed somewhat put out at Tom’s question.

“Well, Tom, the fact is I didn’t like—that is, I was too busy—I have been fearfully busy for ever so long.”

“ Busy! What have you been doing? ”

“ Oh, nothing in particular. A fellow can be busy enough though he does nothing in the long run, can’t he? ”

“ I dare say,” said Tom; “ but I’m sure we all thought it queer that you should drop us so suddenly as you did.”

“ You all thought so? ” said the other quickly. “ Whom do you include in ‘ all ’? ”

“Why, the lot of us, to be sure,” said Tom. “ The pater, mater, old Bennett, and myself: that’s the lot of us.”

Fitzgerald looked disappointed. “ Is that all of you? ” he said.

“Well, yes, all of us except my sister, and she doesn’t count, of course.”

“ Oh, she doesn’t count? ” Fitzgerald was looking rather glum—an expression that was rarely upon his face. The fact was that in his mind Miss Courtland counted somewhat.

“ Well, I’ll count her if you insist on it,” said Tom. “But we mustn’t forget in all our counting to count the moments till the train starts. We have only two minutes now. How far are you going, Fitz? ”

“ I meant to go on to Avonford, and perhaps to drop over to Courtlands to-morrow to inquire if—if your people were receiving visitors.”

Tom’? face became grave,

“ Come into a compartment with me, and we can talk together as we used to do long ago— you and Jeff and myself/' said he, putting his arm within his friend’s.

“Ah!” said Fitzgerald, almost to himself. “Ah, Jeff—poor old Jeff!”

They got into a compartment, and sat facing one another in silence until the train had started. Then Tom put his hands on the knees of the other, drawing his attention from the landscape of Bayport chimney-pots, which he was regarding in a rather abstract fashion.

“Fitz,” said Tom, “you did not hear that we had news from Geoffrey? ”

“ What! ” shouted the young Irishman, “ news from poor old Jeff? ”

“Yes.”

“ And he is safe? ”

Tom shook his head.

“ We can at least hope so now, and we are determined to do so with all our hearts.”

“ But if you got news from him direct he is bound to be safe. I wondered how it was that you did not look cut up, Tom, but this is the reason—the best reason in the world. To tell you the truth, my dear boy, I remained away from Courtlands simply because I knew what a state you were in about Geoffrey, and I am the worst one in the world to be about a house that is not in its normal condition. I’m a regular duffer at expressing sympathy and that sort of thing. I’ve tried it before now, and I’ve always wished that I had stayed at home and not made the attempt to express my feelings. But tell me all about the message.”

“It was only a paper with a few words written upon it which had been set adrift in a bottle,” said Tom. “ The bottle was brought to us yesterday by the man who picked it up more than two months ago.”

“ And what did the paper tell you? ”

“ It told us that the Black Swan had been dismasted by a cyclone, and that a boat was being launched.”

“ No more? ” There was some disappointment manifested in the tone of Fitzgerald’s voice as he asked the question.

“No more,” said Tom. “What more would you have? Fellows at such a time do not sit down to write regular long letters. What we have received is quite sufficient to renew our hopes. I have been aboard the Titania at Bayport just now—it was the Titania that picked up the bottle containing the message for us—and the captain thinks that we are fully justified in assuming that Geoffrey may be alive, and that it would not be folly for me to go out to the East in search of him—at least I believe the captain has that impression in his own mind, though he would not discuss the point to-day, but would only promise to think over it until to-morrow, when I am to see him again.”

There was a pause before Fitzgerald said, “Then you think Jeff is safe?”

“ I am sure of it,” cried the boy, eagerly; “ and what is more, Grace feels that he is! Oughtn’t that to be enough to convince any one that he is at any rate alive? ” he added.

“ Of course, of course,” said his companion; but the tone in which he spoke was not such as would cause any one who heard him to feel that he was absolutely convinced on the subject. “ And you have made up your mind to go in search of your brother? You are a brave fellow, Tom, and you deserve to succeed. Where arc you going in the first place? ”

“ That we shall have to decide to-morrow with the captain of the Titania. But I certainly mean to go. Think of the true accounts you have read of men being cast on barren islands —on savage islands—and remaining there until they were found by their friends, or until they contrived to make a boat to carry them off. Why, there are hundreds of cases of this sort on record. They have not been invented by the fellows who write books on the ‘ Robinson Crusoe ’ model, but are facts. Think of all the places that remain unexplored in the East up to the present, Fitz; why, if a man were to be wrecked on the north-east coast of Australia— on any part of the peninsula of Carpentaria, or on almost any part of New Guinea what chance would he have of being heard of, unless an expedition were sent in search of him? There are many islands of the same sort in the South Pacific”

“And you mean to go to them all?”

“Certainly!” almost shouted Tom in his eagerness; the fact being that he was full of the purpose which he had set himself to accomplish, and the more he tried to convince his friend of its feasibility, the more convinced he himself became that his plans could be successfully carried out. “Certainly, I mean to go from island to island if necessary. Look here, Fitz, if put to it, I feel myself equal to exploring not merely the whole of New Guinea, but the whole of Australia as well.”

“ Bravo! ” cried Fitzgerald. “ You are of the right sort, my boy. I believe that you would be equal to anything, and, what’s more to the point, I believe that you will find Jeff.”

The train had very nearly reached Avonford before Tom suddenly said—

“You never told me what was bringing you to Avonford, Fitz. Why could you not come on with me to Courtlands as you used to do long ago with Jeff? I told you just now that we were all wondering what had become of you. Hadn’t you better come with me and explain matters yourself? You can go off the first thing in the morning.”

Though in his eyes this permission did not increase the attractiveness of his visit, Fitzgerald agreed to make the journey to Courtlands, and to neglect the important business which it appeared was bringing him to Avonford. It so happened, however, that the business which he had set himself to accomplish was simply to find out how Miss Courtland was bearing the great sorrow which had fallen upon her family when, as Fitzgerald thought, all hope for Geoffrey’s safety had been abandoned.

Barry Fitzgerald was a young Irishman who had been at college with Geoffrey Courtland, and had become his greatest friend. He had, during the three years preceding Geoffrey’s departure, been a frequent guest at Courtlands, often spending weeks at a time with the family, and joining the male members in their cruises in the Little Sister. Since his friend’s departure, he had inherited a considerable property in Ireland through the death of his father; but he had continued in England, reading for the bar, though in a desultory fashion that prevented his making much progress.

On reaching Courtlands, Fitzgerald did not find every member of the family so sanguine as Tom. Mr. Courtland seemed to have aged greatly, and Mrs. Courtland, who had invariably been the most cheerful in this household of cheerfulness, was now silent, and apparently resigned to the worst. Bertha alone shared Tom’s sanguine temperament, though Fitzgerald at first thought that she greeted him somewhat coldly, as indeed she did. When, however, Tom described his interview with Captain Rogers, and repeated the boatswain’s story of the captain’s powers of persuasion, she laughed merrily, as Fitzgerald had often heard her laugh in the old days.

Another member of the party showed herself equally imbued with the faith that Tom possessed; for Grace Marchmont only now and again gave evidence of the anxiety that was in her heart. More than once Fitzgerald noticed her gazing abstractedly upon the portrait of Geoffrey that hung in the dining-room, and he could see that before her eyes turned away from it they were filled with tears. He knew it was but natural, and by no means inconsistent with her faith, for her to be moved in this way when watching the portrait of the man to whom she had given her heart.

On the whole, Barry Fitzgerald felt that he had been right in coming down to Courtlands with Tom. He felt that his presence had helped to make the present seem more like the past, and he fancied that he had never seen Bertha look so beautiful.

Later in the evening, Grace set out to return to the Rectory, accompanied by Tom, and also by Bertha and Fitzgerald. It was a lovely autumn night, the air being perfectly still over the coastway, and the atmosphere saturated with the sweet scents of the garden as the party left the house, and of the autumn leaves as they walked down the avenue, Tom and Grace going first, and Fitzgerald with Miss Courtland following.

Before they had gone far along the road, there was a wide space between the first and second couples.

“ How often have we not walked upon this road together!” remarked Fitzgerald to his companion.

“ How often indeed! ” she answered. “ I was wondering the other day if we should ever do so again.”

“Were you thinking about me?” he cried quickly.

“Yes,” she said quietly; “why should I not? One’s thoughts are free.” She gave a little laugh.

“No,” he answered, “mine are not. I have not been able to think about any one but you for the past two years. I told you so a year ago, and you promised me that I should have an answer when—that is, before the year would come to an end.”

“ No,” she said in a low voice; “ I did not say so; I said I would give you an answer when Geoffrey should return.”

“Yes, I remember you said so, and I have waited patiently.”

“You have,” she answered; “but you see the time for me to give you an answer is not come yet.”

She spoke mournfully, and turned away her face. Her mournfulness did not communicate itself to her companion; in fact, he felt rather satisfied than otherwise that the thought of his not having received an answer made her mournful.

“But more than a year has passed, Bertha,” said he, “and yet—I do not want to appear selfish in talking about my hopes when you have so much upon your mind—still——”

“ Indeed, I do not think you at all selfish,” she answered quickly. “ I have never known any one who was less selfish—and—I will tell you all that is on my heart—when Geoffrey comes back.”

“ I wish I could bring him back,” he said.

“ Do you indeed? ” she cried earnestly, and he felt that she had caught his hand. She only held it for a moment, then dropped it suddenly. “A wish,” she said in a low tone; “of what value is a wish? ”

He stopped in an instant.

“ What a fool I have been! ” he cried; “ what a selfish fool! Oh, Bertha, forgive me—forgive me. You are right—I see you are right; a wish is nothing unless followed by an action. I will make an effort to bring him back; if I should have to search the world over, I will do my utmost to bring him back to you.”

“You will? ” she cried, holding out her hand to him. “ I knew you would not fail me in this —I trusted in you all along. You are the best friend we have in the world, and when Geoffrey returns—”

He clasped her little hand tightly in both his own, then raised it to his lips.

Thus the compact was made between them.

“Tom, old boy,” said Fitzgerald, as they sat together late that night, “ I hope you will not object to take me on your expedition as second in command.”

“What!” Tom had leapt to his feet in excitement.

“ You will find me amenable to discipline, I assure you. I will regard you as my superior officer, and obey all your commands to the letter, if you will agree to take me on.”

“Take you on? Oh, Fitz, you are the best fellow in the world! But what could have put the idea of coming with me into your head? No one knows of it, I suppose? ”

“ No one, except Bertha.”

“ Oh, she doesn’t count.”

“As you mentioned coming down in the train,” said Fitzgerald. “ My dear Tom, take my advice, and instead of looking upon a girl as a cipher, count her as two units in future.”

“ If Bertha has made up your mind for you on this point, I will count every girl as a hundred in future,” said Tom. “Now I don’t mind confessing to you, Fitz, that it was Grace who made up my mind for me about going.”

“ Then I think you will admit in future that girls count as something.”

CHAPTER IX.
A RECRUIT.

IT is needless to say that Mr. and Mrs. Courtland were surprised when, on the following morning, they were made acquainted with the intention of Barry Fitzgerald to accompany Tom to the East; it is also needless to say that Fitzgerald did not confess that his suddenly formed resolution had been impelled by his little chat with Bertha Courtland on the previous evening. The young man talked to Mr. Courtland and his wife in such a way as led them to believe that if he had not made up his mind to go with Tom he should be the most unhappy person in the United Kingdom. In fact, it appeared from all he said that the prospect of the adventure had turned up at exactly the proper moment, if he wished to be saved from perishing through idleness.

“ What on earth should I do if I were to remain at home all the winter? ” he said. “ That’s just the question that floored me yesterday. I assure you, I didn’t like to look the future in the face. The courts won’t sit for another couple of months; and when they do sit, if I am called to the bar at the beginning of the term, no attorney would be such a fool as to entrust me with a case—at least, I hope not for the sake of his client. I was thinking seriously of taking to hunting as a profession, but my agent writes to me to say that all the dogs in our neighbourhood have been sold to save them from being poisoned by the Land Leaguers. ‘ That’s a pretty state of things,’ said I to myself when I got his letter and found, like Othello, my occupation gone. I thought of going into Parliament—they say there’s endless fun to be got out of going into Parliament nowadays — but that would mean making speeches to the free and independent electors, and I hate making speeches— I’m making one now, by the way—so you see, as the ground was cut under my feet in every direction, nothing was left to me but to make up my mind to go into partnership with Tom on this excursion. I hope I have made myself clear.”

“ Quite clear, my dear boy? ” said Mr. Courtland, smiling. “ You have made the goodness of your heart apparent,”

“ No, no; don’t say that, please; goodness of heart has really got nothing to say to it. It’s selfishness more than anything else, on my part, I assure you.”

“ Call it what you will, Fitzgerald,” said Mr. Courtland, “ the effect of your resolution is. equally satisfactory to us. Poor Tom is of course very eager in this matter, but it must not be forgotten that he is only a boy.”

“ He is a capital fellow,” said Fitzgerald. “ He is so much in earnest in this affair, he would make the Lord Chancellor join him in the expedition if his lordship came in contact with him, and heard him speak about the certainty of finding Geoffrey.”

“ Tell me frankly, Fitzgerald,” said Mr. Court-land in a low tone, “what do you think of Tom’s resolution? Is there any hope? ”

“ Frankly, Mr. Courtland, I believe that before we return we shall either have found Geoffrey or know the reason why he cannot be found.”

“ That is the object of your expedition,” said Mr. Courtland, earnestly. “We can bear to hear of his death, but the suspense which we are in at present is unendurable. You can understand this, Fitzgerald. You can understand how Lady Franklin, long after every hope for her husband’s safety had been abandoned, looked forward to the return of the search expeditions, though she knew the most they could bring to her was the certainty that he was lost. Oh, anything is better than suspense.”

“ I hope, Mr. Courtland,” said Fitzgerald, “that we shall be able to bring you confirmation of your most sanguine hopes rather than of your worst fears.”

“You will do all that men can do,” said Mr. Courtland, extending his hand which Fitzgerald grasped warmly.

“ Oh,” murmured the young man when he found himself alone. “ Oh, if he only knew that I am working from selfish motives alone, what would he think of me? I tried to impress it on him, but it was no use. If it were not for HER sake, I am afraid I should remain at home.”

There are really quite as many men in the world who underrate themselves as there are who do the opposite. Fitzgerald actually felt that he was among the most selfish of mortals, because he had made up his mind to go in search of Geoffrey Courtland on account of his love for Geoffrey Courtland’s sister; and he could not bear that those around him should think that he was undertaking the duty from purely disinterested motives.

The interview with Captain Rogers of the Titania was quite as satisfactory as that of the day before—nay, more so; for, though the captain took great interest in Tom and his plans, he had all along felt that perhaps he was doing wrong in encouraging the boy to engage in an enterprise, the success of which would, he knew, be in a large measure dependent upon coolness and maturity of thought—gifts that one could hardly expect to be at the command of so young a fellow.

“ I have been thinking all night upon the likelihood of your success, Mr. Courtland,” said the captain, when the two visitors to the Titania had seated themselves in the cabin.

“And what is the result of your thoughts?” inquired Tom. “ Have your ideas changed since you have heard that Mr. Fitzgerald is to accompany me? ”

“Not materially. When I sat down to a small-scale general chart of those seas, and began to think of the chances of finding any particular person at an unknown spot among the islands, to say nothing of the mainland, I felt that you might as well start from America to look for some one in Europe, without knowing whether that some one was in France or Russia, Norway or Greece. That is about how you stand, Mr. Courtland. Why, New Guinea of itself is as large as France.”

“ I had no idea that it was so immense,” said Fitzgerald. “ To tell you the truth, I had never given the matter the least thought, having no notion that I should ever make up my mind to commence a series of explorations in those regions. Why, the expedition will be worth undertaking if only to give me a practical lesson on geography. The general idea in England is that New Guinea is about the size of the Isle of Wight—a nice tidy little spot that does as a sort of preserve for birds of Paradise.”

Tom felt a sinking at heart as he reflected upon the difficulties of the task he had set himself to accomplish. The captain seemed to notice a discouraged look upon the lad’s face, and hastened to dispel it.

“ Of course,” said he, “ it would be absurd to compare the difficulties in the way of carrying out a search like this in a civilized country, with those in the way of the same undertaking among savages. If a man wants to hide himself effectually, he will go to the most densely populated city, and he will very soon get lost among his fellow-men. But if he goes where white men are scarce, there is no difficulty in tracking him.”

Tom’s face brightened once more.

“I see exactly what you mean,” said he. “ If it is once understood along the coast of, perhaps, North-East Australia that we are searching for the survivors of the Black Swan, we shall be certain to get upon their track if they are in the land of the living.”

“That’s about it,” replied the captain. “But I wouldn’t lead you to suppose that you shall have no more difficulty in your search than a letter-carrier would have in delivering: an envelope, legibly addressed, to a house in his district.”

“ Still you must not forget that you picked up and delivered a letter from a place whose postal system is of the most elementary type,” remarked Fitzgerald.

“ I don’t forget it, sir; and if I didn’t believe pretty strongly that there is a Providence who controls this world, so that nothing that happens should be looked upon as strange, I would not venture to advise you and Mr. Courtland to leave your homes for the enterprise you have in hand.”

“ But you have not advised us yet,” said Tom.

“ I do so now, then,” said the captain. “ I will give you my ideas on the subject in a very few words. My theory is that the boat from the Black Swan would steer a southward course, so as to run a better chance of being picked up by a passing vessel. Now, it hasn’t been picked up— we may assume so much, for if it had, you would have got a letter sooner than I could have delivered the message in the bottle. Well, not having been picked up, the boat most likely made its way to some place out of communication with civilized people. At present my belief is that the first land the boat made was the east coast of New Guinea; but perhaps I may change my opinion after thinking over the matter again.”

“We will begin, then, by searching New Guinea,” said Tom; “ so that the question now is, how are we to get there? ”

“A beginning must be made somewhere, Mr. Courtland,” said Captain Rogers, “and New Guinea may as well be your starting-place. Now, as to how you are to get there, much remains to be said. You must get to Australia in the first place, and procure at Sydney a suitable craft and a suitable crew. It is quite possible that in the meantime some intelligence respecting the boat of the Black Swan may be forthcoming. You may obtain such information or such counsel as shall lead you in the right direction for the discovery of your brother and his companions, if he has any.”

“ If we only had your assistance to organize our expedition at Sydney!” said Tom. He was beginning to be downcast once more at the contemplation of the difficulties before him. He had previously only thought of the romance of the undertaking, but this romance was now reduced to the prosaic business of chartering a vessel and hiring a crew, just as if he were going into the coasting trade at home, and had received an order to carry a couple of hundred tons of coal from the Tyne to the Thames.

“Yes,” said Fitzgerald, “if we only could obtain your help at Sydney, we should be all right.”

“You may count on my help, if that is any satisfaction to you,” said the captain. “My next voyage will be to Sydney direct; and, unless you wish to hurry on by steamer, you can have a cabin in the Titania.”

Both Tom and Fitzgerald leapt to their feet, one on either side of the cabin-table.

“ The very thing! ” they cried simultaneously.

“ Avast, avast, my friends! ” said the captain, with a laugh. “Take my advice and don’t decide so important a question on the impulse of the moment. Consider that you could reach Sydney a month sooner if you were to go by steamer, than if you were to sail in the Titania.''

“We do consider it,” cried Tom. “What we want is your advice in respect to our action on arriving at Sydney. We don’t know any one there who could help us; and besides, we shall have the benefit of your hints on the voyage out. What do you say, Fitz ?"

“ I think that if Captain Rogers agrees to take charge of us out to Australia, we may consider the battle as half fought.”

“ I feel that I should make a speech in response to such handsome compliments,” laughed the captain; “ but I hope you’ll excuse me. All that I can offer you is my word that I shall do all that is in my power to help you in this matter.”

“That is enough for us,” cried Tom.

It was thus decided that, subject to the approval of Mr. Courtland, the voyage to Sydney was to be made in the Titania, the captain promising to arrange with the owners—he held a large share in the ship himself—as to the cost of the passage.

The next day Fitzgerald left for his home, and Tom went to London to purchase an outfit and a couple of heavy guns. On the morning of his departure, he strolled down to the' village and came upon old Peter, the boatman, busily engaged at the upturned punt of the Little Sister, by the side of which a tar-pot of more than ordinary dimensions, and flavour in proportion, stood upon a fire made among the stones, so that all the village might have the benefit of the smoke that streamed away to leeward; and certainly there was not a single cottage that did not get at least a sniff of the perfume. Tom used to say that the ships approaching the coast were warned off it when a couple of miles out, by the scent of Peter’s tar-pot.

“ I’m just giving her a lick o’ the brush, Master Tom, before laying her up for the winter with the yawl. I’d like to have her neat against Master Jeff’s cornin’ back. It wouldn’t do for him to turn up some fine mornin’ an’ find us unprepared for him. Ay, whatever time he heaves in sight, he will find a boat ready for him. God bless him! ”

“ I think we may trust you for that, Peter,” said Tom. “It has been a poor summer for all of us.”

“It has been a deal worse for me nor for anybody else,” growled the old man. “ I says to my missus, says I, ‘ If that there yawl could speak, she would ha’ a deal to say this blessed weather,’ says I. ‘ Master Jeff away voyagin’, and Master Tom not carin’ no more for the feelin’s of that there Little Sister nor if she was a coal-bunker.’ Why, Master Tom, it used to make my old deadlights ache to see that boat lyin’ there without a word o’ complaint, but lookin’ as if she felt her treatment like a livin’ thing. Never mind; next year ’ll make up for all the defecks o’ this. But bless me; who’s this a-coming along the quay? Why, if it be’n’t Dan Humphreys, that shipped as second mate o’ the Capsicum o’ the Pickle line.”

A smart young fellow in a pilot-jacket, and with a cap bearing in front the house-flag of the celebrated line of Pickle Brothers, was strolling, apparently listlessly, along the little quay where the boats were lying.

“ If you give me leave, I’ll hail Dan, sir,” said the old boatman. “ Dan, ahoy! ”

The young man addressed in this fashion hastened up and touched his cap in a smart way, suggestive of the quarter-deck and not the fo’c’s’le.

“ Why, Dan, have you made the run already? ” asked Peter. “ Here was Master Tom wonderin’ who you was, and I’m blest if I could believe these here old dead-lights when you hove in sight.”

“ She’s a tidy craft is the Capsicum, Mr. Crosby,” said the young man. “ We made the run from Rio to the Mersey in thirty-six days. You’ve heard of the Capsicum of the Pickle line, maybe, sir? ” and he turned to Tom.

“ I have certainly heard of the Pickle line,” said Tom.

“ The Capsicum is the clipper of the fleet, sir; she is sister ship to the Gherkin, but a deal smarter in her passages. Good morning, sir.”

“ Stand by your moorings a bit yet, Dan,” said Peter, “ and tell us what sorter run you had to the Spanish main when you left New Zealand —wasn’t it to New Zealand the Capsicum was chartered from the port o’ the Mersey? ”

“We made very good time to the Horn from Auckland; but we were delayed a couple of days in the Straits."

“ How was that, Dan, my man? ”

“We were in need of water, and our doctor was a sort o’ botanist and was bound to lose himself in the forest. A boat’s crew of us went in search of him."

“ Did you, now? An’ he turned up?"

“ He did, and with him we found a white man —the chief mate of a vessel that had gone ashore, all hands but himself being lost, near a year ago. It took him all his time, he said, keeping clear of the Indians that live along the coast of the Straits."

“But he wasn’t killed? Well, well, we do come across queer things in our time," was the comment of the old fisherman. “ Now, I shouldn’t wonder,” he continued, “ if the friends o’ that man hadn’t give up all hope o’ ever seein’ him again, an’ yet, for all that, he was as well as you or me. Well, well, I hope they were glad to cast eyes on him safe an’ sound. Good-bye, Dan; mind you call and see my missus as you pass the door." The young man touched his cap again to Tom, and walked on. “Now, Master Tom,” cried Peter, “if it wasn’t Providence that sent that young fellow this way just now, I’d like to know who did. Take the moral o’ that story to heart, Master Tom, an’ don’t you go about as if Master Jeff was lyin’ in the churchyard up there. He’s as safe an’ sound as the young man you’ve just heard tell of, an’ he’ll be found, if anybody goes out to search for him.”

“ Peter,” cried Tom, “ I believe you to be quite right, and I am going out to find my brother.”

“ What! ” the old man threw down the tarbrush. “What do you say? God bless you, sir! I knew you had it in you. You’ll bring him back, never fear. There’s a God above us, Master Tom.”

The old man wiped his eyes, and Tom walked homeward. He knew that Peter had arranged that Dan Humphreys should appear upon the scene with his story the first time that Tom himself would be walking through the village, but this did not cause him to think the less of the old man.

CHAPTER X.
ABOARD THE “ TITANIA.”

IN a fortnight the barque Titania, Rogers, master, was swinging at anchor in the river four miles from Bayport, waiting for the last of her stores to be put aboard, and waiting also for the second of her passengers; for, though Tom Courtland had been aboard for some hours, Fitzgerald had not yet put in an appearance.

Captain Rogers was occupied in his cabin with the managing owner, and the steam-tug that had brought the barque out of the harbour was drifting slowly to leeward, waiting until the signal was given to come alongside to carry the business man back to Bayport. On the deck were the two officers: Mr. Gulbrandsen, a Norwegian, the chief; and Mr. Ringland, the second. The boatswain, carrying out the orders of the chief mate, was piping vigorously, and the seamen were for the most part aloft shaking out the sails, though others were making all trim on the decks.

Tom had been for an hour in the state-room which he was to occupy with Fitzgerald, seeing that everything was stowed to his satisfaction, though he might have taken it for granted that the able-bodied seaman who had been told off to lash down the chest to the iron stanchions in the floor would know how to discharge this duty.

When he had satisfied himself in this respect, he came on deck and went aft, looking anxiously up the river for the boat that should be bearing Fitzgerald to the vessel from Bayport. It was pretty late in the afternoon, and the breeze was freshening. As soon as the captain and the managing owner would have completed their business, the vessel would be put under way. He fancied that he could perceive, in the stern of one of the Bayport open yawls coming out of the harbour with her big lug set, the figure of the man for whom he was waiting.

He hastened back to his cabin to hunt out his new binoculars, glad to have an opportunity of testing them practically. The captain, glancing through the door of his own cabin and seeing the “ new-fangledness ” of the young man, had a quiet laugh with the owner.

"A capital young fellow, is that Courtland,” he remarked.

“And he will be better by the time he reaches Sydney,” said the owner. “ The new look will have left those glasses of his, and he will have learnt a good many things he doesn’t know now. Whether he finds his brother or not, his enterprise deserves to succeed.”

“ Well, what do you think of your glasses, Mr. Courtland? ” asked the captain, coming behind Tom as he carefully adjusted the binoculars, bringing them to bear upon the yawl.

“They are first-rate,” he replied. “ Try them for yourself.”

The captain re-adjusted them and took' a steady aim with both barrels for the yawl.

“ I agree with you as to their quality,” he said. “ Why, they are so powerful you can almost hear what Mr. Fitzgerald is saying to the boatman in the stern.”

Tom laughed.

“ I hope he is saying that he had no right to remain ashore until the last minute.”

“ Don’t make yourself uneasy, my boy,” said the captain. “ We won’t have our anchor up for at least twenty minutes.”

“ But that’s running it pretty close for Fitzgerald; he might have kept you for another hour.”

“Why, you have become quite a disciplinarian,” laughed the captain. “ Take my advice, don’t wear yourself out before the time. Wait until Mr. Fitzgerald is late before you abuse him for not being punctual.”

Tom felt that he had deserved this suggested rebuke, for the fact was that, in spite of his determination to be as cool and collected at starting on this voyage as if he had spent all his time making trips to the furthest ends of the earth, he was now in a condition of nervous excitement which he himself would have called “ fussiness,” had it been manifested by any one else. He was, however, not to be blamed for his excitement at this moment. He had never been further away from home than the town where his school was situated, and now he was setting out on a voyage, the limits of which he could not foresee, any more than the dangers which would be associated with it.

It was quite as well that he had entreated his father not to see him aboard the Titania and that his partings had been made at home. He felt that he must have utterly broken down beneath such a strain upon his nerves at the last moment.

Then the Bayport yawl came alongside the Titania, and Fitzgerald ran up the rail and found his friend on the deck of the barque. After shaking hands with the captain and reporting himself with a laugh, “ Come aboard, sir,” he hastened to the side, shouting down directions about the disposal of some apparently very important matter.

Tom went over to the side also, and was just in time to see lifted over the bulwarks a wicker cage containing some kind of bird that kept itself wedged into a corner, so that the shaking seemed to do it no injury.

Fitzgerald grasped the cage and paid no attention to the slinging up of the rest of his belongings, or of the ship’s stores that had come off with him in the yawl.

“ Thank goodness, he is safe so far,” he cried. “Why, what on earth is it?” asked Tom.

“ Can’t you see? ” replied Fitzgerald. “ Oh, no, he has gone into a corner of the cage; the excitement is too much for him. It’s a blackbird, Tom—not a vulgar blackbird such as you find every day, but a genius in the bird line—a bird ready to distinguish himself when occasion demands. How do you feel, old chappie? ”

He put his face down to the cage as it stood on the skylight. The bird looked cautiously up, then gave itself a shake, and to Tom’s amazement, cried out in a hoarse voice—

“ Ye don’t know what’s before ye! Ye don’t know what’s before ye! ”

“ You’re all right now,” said Fitzgerald to the bird. “You’re aboard a snug ship, where you’ll remain for the next four months. What can you complain of? ”

“Ye don’t know what’s before ye!” cried the bird once more.

“Now what do you think of that for a blackbird?” said the Irishman. “It’s my impression that its equal doesn’t exist even in the tropical forests of New Guinea.”

Tom laughed at first. “ I agree with you in that opinion most heartily,” he said. But then the discretion of the commander of an important expedition overcame the natural surprise and amusement he felt on coming in contact with the talking bird. “ It is very funny,” he remarked; “ but do you think it is the proper thing to take with us on this expedition, Fitzgerald? ”

“ I suppose it can hardly be looked upon as a valuable auxiliary,” replied Fitzgerald. “But never mind, my boy, you don’t know how useful it may turn out.”

“ I certainly don’t,” said Tom. “ If we were to be cast away on a desert island, it would hardly furnish us with a decent meal.”

“ It would be cannibalism to eat a thing that looks up to your face and addresses you in grammatical English,” said Fitzgerald. “The fact is, Tom, the bird was given to me as a farewell present by my foster-mother in Ireland last week. It was all the poor old woman had to give. Her husband taught the bird to speak some years ago, and they have kept it for me. I had not the heart to refuse it, and I promised also to take it with me ‘ for luck,’ the old woman said.”

“ I can't see where the luck comes in,” said the captain, who was standing by; “ but I don’t see why you should not take the thing on with you, at least as far as Sydney, if it lives through the voyage.”

“ I’ll put it on board-wages at Sydney,” said Fitzgerald.

“All aboard, sir,” said the second mate, coming up to the captain at this moment.

“Then signal the tug to stand by to take the owner ashore, and prepare to get under weigh, Mr. Ringland,” said the captain.

In a short time the little steamer had bustled alongside the barque; the managing owner, after shaking hands with the captain and the two young men, wishing them a prosperous voyage and an accomplishment of the great enterprise they had in view, got aboard the tug, which speedily steamed off for Bayport, the sound of its paddles becoming fainter and fainter in the distance.

“All clear for’ard, Mr. Ringland?” shouted Captain Rogers.

“ All clear, sir! ”

“ Give way, then.”

“ Give way it is, sir! ”

The men had the capstan bars in their hands in a moment, and then, with the “click, click, click,” of the pawls falling in due succession into the rim, the strains of a somewhat rasping fiddle were heard, and the song arose—

“ Our Joey set sail on a Friday morning—
Rouse her in, rouse her in!
They went to Davy Jones with no word o’ warning—
Rouse her in, rouse her in!
Then Joe, says he, ‘ Let the ship be trim and tidy,
I never more will want for to go to sea on Friday—
For Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday’s my day,
But never, if you’re wise, go to sea on a Friday.’
Rouse her in, my lads, rouse her in.”

Tom had never heard a regular sea-song, and he was greatly amused at this one that contained about twenty stanzas, the refrain being—

“Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday’s my day,
But never, if you’re wise, go to sea on a Friday,”

each of the men at the capstan taking a day of the week and singing it out as a solo.

When the anchor was up, but not stowed, the peak of the big mainsail was hauled up, the foresail was run up, and a man was told off for the wheel. The sails began to draw, and the good ship plunged ahead through the light waves of the bay, leaving a track of curling foam in her wake.

The two passengers, while sail after sail was being shaken out and the boatswain’s pipe sounded fore and aft, stood together, looking out eagerly until the entrance to the bay should be reached, where they knew the lights of Utterport could be seen through the darkness, and perhaps even, should they pass very close to the coast, the lights in the windows at Courtlands might be apparent to the wanderers on the deep.

Perhaps the captain, in spite of his vigilance on deck while sail was being made, had an idea of what was passing in the minds of the young men, for he allowed the Titania to run for a long way on the starboard tack, so as to get very close to land. Tom heard the second officer say to the captain—

“Shall I put the ship about, sir?” when they had kept on the one tack for so long, and he heard also the captain’s reply—

“ Let her run, Mr. Ringland.”

“Veil,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen, the first mate, commenting on the captain’s orders, “ veil, I vould not have believed zat he vould have run ze chance of putting ze ship on ze reef he knows is zare. Cut if she go, ve vill not be to blame. Zat is true.”

There could be no doubt about it. There were the lights of the little village they knew so well, gleaming faintly through the dimness of the early night—they could even make out the lights of some of the fishing-boats at anchor in the bay. In a few minutes, by the aid of the pilot-glass, the glow in the windows of Court-lands could be seen.

The two young men stood on the deck in silence, looking across the stretch of the bay. Each had his own thoughts of the past and of the future.

Gradually the lights on the shore dwindled away, and then from the poop there rang out the order—

“ Stand by to go about.”

“ At last,” muttered the Norwegian.

The watch on deck had been standing by the braces for some time in anticipation of the order to go upon a new tack, and in a few minutes the jibs were flapping and the booms swinging as the helm was put hard over. Then the yards were squared, and the Titania forged ahead towards the open sea. A course was given to the man at the wheel, and the quartermaster rang seven bells on the ship’s bell.

“ Now then,” said Captain Rogers to his passengers, “don’t you think we had better go below and see what the steward can do for us in the tea way? You will soon get used to our hours aboard ship: breakfast at eight, dinner at two, tea at six, and supper when you feel hungry.”

They went together down to the snug little cuddy, and found that the steward had urged upon the cook the necessity for exerting himself at the outset of the voyage, so as to give the passengers a good impression of the galley of the Titania. The dishes of fish were numerous, and for the most part extremely good eating, and the ham and eggs could not be surpassed. To Tom’s surprise, the tea was not only drinkable, but delicious.

“ I take to myself the credit of teaching the steward how to make good tea,” said the captain. “When I first sailed in the Titania, he used to lay before me a cup of curious black liquid, and I used to swallow it without a word of complaint, but immediately afterwards I invariably asked him what it was I had been drinking. On his replying, ‘Tea, sir,’ I merely said, ‘Thank you.’ Well, this course of proceeding so exasperated him, he had a consultation with the cook, and the result of their combined intellect is tea that can be called tea.”

“ And that can be drunk as such without misgivings,” said Fitzgerald. “ I never drank better in my life—even in Ireland, where they have a reputation for making tea.”

“ Yes,” said the captain, “ I know the system on which tea is made in Ireland. It is produced by placing a few slices of lemon at the bottom of a tumbler and pouring over them boiling water, adding a stiff glass of poteen and a lump of sugar.”

“ How we are traduced! ” said Fitzgerald, laughing heartily.

“ Why, Fitz,” said Tom, “you told me yourself that one time there was a wreck of an East-Indiaman on the Irish coast, and when the natives found the chests of tea that were washed ashore, they boiled the contents in pots and straining off the liquid, ate the stewed leaves like cabbage.”

“ It was on the coast of Cornwall that happened,” said Fitzgerald; “ but every story like that is set down to the credit of Ireland.”

The captain and Tom laughed, but suddenly from the far end of the cabin there came a hoarse voice, singing,

“Let Erin remember the days of old,
Let Erin remember the days of old,
Let Erin remember the days of old.”

It was the quaint voice of the blackbird, and though it sang pretty correctly the air of the Irish melody, it never got beyond the first line. Then it burst into a hoarse laugh.

“What’s the matter with you, Finn Mac-Coul?” said Fitzgerald.

The bird continued laughing hoarsely as before.

“Ye don’t know what’s before ye! Ye don’t know what’s before ye! ” it cried, and then went on with his laughter.

“ I don’t care about that bird,” said the captain, rising to go on deck.

“ He is slightly uncanny,” said Fitzgerald. “But you will find that he improves upon acquaintance.”

The captain shook his head and went up the companion.

CHAPTER XI.
GOOD-BYE TO CIVILIZATION.

IT was some time before Tom, on awaking the next morning, remembered that he was neither lying in the dormitory at school nor in his own snug bed at home. There was really no motion of the ship to acquaint him with the exact facts of his situation, and he felt that all the talk there was about the discomforts of travelling by sea was nothing but a slander upon one of the most delightful modes of existence in the world.

The Titania, with all sail set, was flying through the water at the rate of nine knots, and as the wind was coming astern, and there was just sufficient to drive her along without raising the sea, the motion was so very steady as to be almost imperceptible.

Tom drew the curtain of the state-room window, and, looking out, saw the sparkling green water on every side, but no land was visible. Here and there he could see a vessel with all sail set, the early sun gleaming upon her white sails, and on the horizon appeared the smoke of a steamer. The Titania was, he knew, just getting out of the Channel; toward evening the sails in sight would not be so numerous.

In the lower bunk of the state-room, Barry Fitzgerald was sleeping peacefully, quite unconscious of the motion of the vessel or of Tom’s restlessness over his head. He had not been disturbed by the swabbing of the deck—an operation that by no means tends to encourage balmy slumbers, especially when the men engaged in this duty fasten the heads on their brooms by reversing the stick and thumping the handle-end upon the deck. At such times, a person sleeping just beneath the deck is apt to become restless. Fitzgerald, however, had not been affected by this action of the sailors on deck.

Suddenly, as Tom sat up in his bunk, looking out of the window, he heard seven bells struck, and thus learnt, without referring to his watch, that the hour was half-past seven. Just as he was thinking he should get up, a light knock came to the cabin door.

“All right,” shouted Fitzgerald from below, for, though he had slept through all the unaccustomed noises, the instant the knock had come, he was wide awake through the force of habit.

The pantry-boy entered with two cups of cocoa on a tray, and with the message from the steward that the bath was filled, and ready for which of the gentlemen wished to use it first.

“ What, a bath-room! ” cried Fitzgerald. “Well, this is a most perfectly appointed ship. I had no idea that we should be so well provided for; I had visions of being compelled to get on deck in the early morning and simulate a house on fire in front of the hose used for washing the deck—by the way, have they not washed the deck this morning ?”

“What a thing it is to be able to sleep soundly under all circumstances!” cried Tom with a laugh. “Why, you might have fancied that the crew were doing their best to dig their way through the deck down to the cabins; half of their work seemed to consist in hammering the heads on the broomsticks. I think that as you have shown yourself so well fitted to occupy your bunk, I had better make myself the first companion of the bath.”

He left the cabin, and was soon in the enjoyment of the salt water in the capacious bath which the captain of the Titania had lately added to the accommodation of the vessel.

When he returned, feeling very fresh and comfortable, he found Barry surveying in a very mournful way his case of razors. Fitzgerald wore only a moustache, and professed to abhor the idea of whiskers and a beard.

“Why are you looking so mournful?” Tom inquired.

“ It would make any fellow mournful,” Fitzgerald replied. “I was just thinking that I might as well have left my razors at home; it will be impossible for me to continue shaving when we get into the bush or the jungle, or wherever we may go. Isn’t that enough to make any fellow feel in low spirits? ”

“ It seems to me that it should have just the opposite effect,” said Tom. “ You should rejoice at the prospect of being saved the trouble of scraping your chin.”

“ You say that because you have no necessity to scrape your chin,” said Fitzgerald. “ It is, I admit, an awful bore, but it’s better to submit to it than to wear a beard. I don’t know how I’ll ever get used to it. Tom, we have indeed said good-bye to civilization.” His voice was full of sadness. “Yes, the connection between shaving and civilization is much greater than is generally imagined.”

Tom burst out laughing as his friend, with an air of quiet resignation, put the sparkling weapons back once more into their case, and passed his hand over his chin, feeling the progress that the crop of bristles had made in that region since the previous day.

“ Never mind, old boy,” said Tom when he had finished his laugh; “ you will have all the better fun when the time comes for cutting the crop. You will have a jolly harvest about this time next year.”

“ Make the entry in the calendar to-day, Tom,” murmured the Irishman, “ ‘ September 26th, hairshooting begins.’ ”

CHAPTER XII.
THE TWO MATES.

ALL that dayThe Titania sped southward with all plain sail set. The breeze was a delightful one, and it was accompanied by no clouds. The sky was blue overhead, and around the vessel the green waters sparkled out to the horizon.

The two passengers aboard the barque felt naturally in the highest spirits. It would have been impossible to feel otherwise under the influence of such a day of bright sky and clear air. The enterprise upon which they had embarked seemed an easy one to them, as they sat on their deck-chairs astern, listening to the breaking of the little waves upon the bows of the vessel, and watching the white birds that had followed the Titania from shore, dipping gracefully to the water on all sides, picking up whatever might chance to be thrown overboard that could be swallowed. They were not particularly squeamish, those birds, but seemed to enjoy a meal of potato parings quite as heartily as if it had been dainty fare.

Fitzgerald had brought on deck his wonderful blackbird, Finn MacCoul, and for hours it sang in the sunshine as gaily as though it were in its native woods. Between the carol of the bird, the crowing of the fowls in the hen-coops, and the bleating of the sheep which formed part of the ship’s stores, the passengers might have been pardoned for laughing and declaring that going on a sea-voyage differed in no way from going on an excursion into the country.

Their spirits were still further increased by the chat they had with Mr. Ringland after breakfast He had heard from the captain, he said, what was the object of their voyage, and he felt sure that they would be able to accomplish the rescue of Geoffrey Courtland, who, there was every reason for believing, might have saved himself in the boat belonging to the Black Swan, if the vessel had really gone down, a catastrophe which Mr. Ringland said might not have occurred before she had brought all who were aboard to land—whether to Northern Australia or some of the islands, it was impossible to say. Mr. Ringland, in fact, talked to the young men as if the success of their enterprise were assured.

The tone which he adopted was very encou raging to Tom, but somehow it was much less effective with Fitzgerald.

“ He’s a great deal too sanguine,” said this young man, when Mr. Ringland had gone to his cabin. “ He talks as if we were going on a pleasure excursion, and he seems not to fancy that we have weighed carefully for ourselves the chances of Geoffrey’s safety. It is his sanguine Irish nature that prompts him to say rather more than he means by way of encouragement.” But Tom declared that the second mate had not taken an over-sanguine view of the enterprise. What the captain had said about the difficulties of such an undertaking as that they had set out to accomplish was, in Tom’s belief, too strong a statement of the matter in hand.

But whatever effect Mr. Ringland’s words may have had, it must certainly have been neutralized by the conversation the passengers had with Mr. Gulbrandsen, the Norwegian mate. This man was a tall, athletic fellow, with fair, curly hair and blue eyes. He invariably took the worst view of everything, and had no hesitation in expressing himself to this effect to every one with whom he came in contact, though, to do him justice, he only did so when requested. He never volunteered any expression of opinion.

“You have sailed in the Titania for some time, I suppose?” said Fitzgerald, going up to where Mr. Gulbrandsen was leaning over the bulwarks amidships.

“ Tree years, sir,” the other replied.

“Then you have, no doubt, been in every part of the world? ”

“Veil, very nearly, sir. As ve have only been about tree monts in English ports, ve vere bound to see all ze rest of ze vorld. But zere is not much to be seen in ze vorld; it is a very poor sort of place.”

“ It’s the best place I was ever in, at any rate,” laughed Fitzgerald.

The Norwegian smiled, but rather mournfully. There was no reply to make to Mr. Fitzgerald’s remark, but he felt that it did not alter the truth of what he himself had stated regarding the poverty of the world as a place of residence.

“ I dare say you are right, Mr. Gulbrandsen,” continued Fitzgerald. “The world is not up to much after all. I have not had much experience of it as a whole yet, but I hope to have some before another year.”

“ It is nonsense going out to see ze vorld,” said the Norwegian. “One part of ze vorld is the same as anoder. If you pass your life in a village vit a hundred inhabitants you run as good a chance of knowing ze vorld as if you travelled east and vest, and nord and soud. You do not believe me, I see—no one does, but vcn zey have travelled for ten or twenty years, zey all come to zink vit me.”

“ It would require more arguments than you have brought forward to convince me that the world is so uninteresting,” said Fitzgerald with a laugh. The laugh seemed to please the mate, for there was nothing he liked more than meeting people who openly expressed their disagreement with his peculiar notions. “ A chat with you is useful, Mr. Gulbrandsen,” continued Fitzgerald. “ Coming after a talk with Mr. Ringland, your opinions are doubly effective.”

“ Oh, Mr. Ringland is a very good fellow indeed,” said the Norwegian. “ But he vould try to make you believe on ze darkest day zat ze sun is shining; he vould try to make you believe zat ze hottest day is no more zan pretty mild, and zat ze snow and ice are pretty warm. He has told you, I am sure, zat you have only to zail away in ze Titania, and in a short time ze gentleman you look for vill be found vaiting for you. Ach, I know Mr. Ring-land and his vay. I do not say zat he is wrong.”

“Neither do I,” said Fitzgerald. “What is your opinion on the subject of our expedition, Mr. Gulbrandsen?” he asked after a moment’s pause.

“I zink, sir, all ze chances are against you,” replied the Norwegian blandly, as though he were uttering the most agreeable thing in the world.

“ You do not think that the man who wrote the message which was picked up by the Titania on her last voyage, was saved? ”

“ Plain, I don’t zink he vas; on ze contrary, I believe he vas lost, vit ze boat and everybody else.”

“But don’t you think that the boat might have found its way to some of the islands to the west of where the Black Swan may have foundered? ”

“In zat case,” said this Job’s comforter, “ze gentleman and ze boat’s crew have been eaten long time ago. Nearly every island zere is ze home of cannibals.”

“You do not give one much encouragement for such an expedition as we have undertaken,” remarked Fitzgerald quietly.

“Vat is ze use of encouragement ven ze end vill only be disappointment? ”

“None; but you must remember the end has not come yet, and neither you nor I can foresee what the end will be. Now I may tell you that I am no more discouraged by what you have said than I was encouraged by Mr. Ringland’s sanguine view of the matter; having carefully weighed long ago the probabilities of success, and having arrived at the conclusion that there were sufficient grounds for hoping to accomplish all we have set out to do, I am not likely to be turned aside by any opinion that may be expressed by another person on the subject of our prospects.”

“ Quite right, sir,” said the Norwegian. “Ven a man makes up his mind to a zing, he should go on vit it to ze end, even if it is as hopeless as your expedition.”

“ But it is not hopeless, my good friend,” cried Fitzgerald; he was really more amused than angry at the persistent way in which the Norwegian endeavoured to discourage him. It was the man’s nature, he could see, to take the gloomiest view of everything and endeavour to force it upon others. “It is not hopeless, you will find, when the three of us—my friend, his brother and myself—make the return voyage in the Titania."

“No one vill be gladder zan myself to see zat come to pass,” replied the mate with a very sad smile and a curious jerk of his shoulders, which was a peculiarity of his own.

“What was the Norwegian saying to you?” Tom asked of Fitzgerald when the latter had returned to his deck-chair.

“ Oh, he said a lot to me, and I said a lot to him. He is not a cheerful companion by any means”

“He is not of the same way of thinking as your countryman, Mr. Ringland? ”

“ I could not imagine two people more widely different.”

“Then I think we had better make a chum of Ringland.”

“ I would strongly advise you not to make the attempt to become chummy with the Norwegian. A wet blanket does not tend to make those who come in contact with it cheerful. I shall go and have a chat with Finn MacCoul.”

He went to where the blackbird was sitting pensively in its cage, apparently tired out with singing.

“Well, old boy,” said Fitzgerald, “what do you think of the aspect of things in general? ”

“Ye don’t know what’s before ye! Ye don’t know what’s before ye! ” cried the bird, adding its peculiar laugh.

“I know what’s before you if you continue saying that,” said Fitzgerald. He was really beginning to feel discouraged, in spite of the genial weather and the pleasure of flying through the water at the rate of nine or ten knots.

CHAPTER XIII.
A FRESH GALE.

BEFORE evening, the breeze had increased to half a gale, and the captain ordered some sail to be taken off the vessel, and by the time the bell had rung for tea, the Titania was showing signs of uneasiness. The sea was running too high to allow of her cutting through the waves as she had done in the morning; and even when the royals had been stowed and a reef of the topgallants taken in, the creaking of the masts and spars continued; and the bows plunged deep into every wave until the decks fore and aft were deluged with water, and the two passengers found it pleasanter sitting in front of the cabin stove than with the water about their ankles on the deck.

The steward, in laying the table for tea, took care not to forget the “fiddles”—that wooden framework divided into compartments to enclose each plate and saucer.

“ This means that we are approaching the Bay of Biscay,” said Tom, as he seated himself with Fitzgerald and the captain.

“ This is usually the most disagreeable part of our voyage,” said the captain. “ Let us hope that when we get a bit further south, we shall be able to do away with the fiddles for at least a couple of months.”

The captain did not remain long below. He hastily swallowed a cup of tea and ate a piece of the hot cake with which the table was liberally provided, and then, apologizing to the passengers, hurried on deck.

The steward was very irate at the want of consideration shown by the captain for the feelings of the cook.

“ It’s too bad, indeed,” said the steward. “Just when his favourite cake has been baked, and we fancy he is going to make a good square meal, he rushes on deck, and will remain there until eight bells, though he knows very well he might as well be below. He won’t take any more sail off the ship, and he can’t take anything off the sea. But it’s always the same; he believes that if he were to remain below for five minutes, the officers would allow the sails to be made handkerchiefs of.”

“ It’s really enough to make you quite despondent,” said Fitzgerald; “ but you may be quite certain that Mr. Courtland and I will do our best to make up for the shortcomings of the captain. The cook may rest assured that with us he will find any amount of appreciation for his skill.”

“Thank you, sir,” said the steward. “The cook has feelings like the rest of us.”

“ And we shall respect them accordingly,” said Tom.

When the two passengers were turning 'into their cabin at night, they could not help noticing how the wind had increased; but each climbed into his bunk without much difficulty, and the pitching of the vessel only seemed to rock them to sleep.

The next incident of which Tom was conscious was his struggle to hold on by the “ coaming ” of his bunk, to save himself from being precipitated to the floor, pretty much after the way the ball is thrown out of the cup in a game of cup-and-ball. Before the struggle had ended, he was very wide awake indeed. The Titania, he knew, was labouring through a heavy sea, and for the time being, the sea was getting rather the better of the conflict. If he had not wedged himself in his bunk, he would certainly have been tossed out, and, his bunk being the upper one, this might have been a serious matter.

The vessel was not only rolling, but pitching as well, and every now and again there would come a dull rattle of shattered water against her side, causing her to tremble from stem to stern. It was in vain that Tom tried to work out a systematic arrangement of his body, to lessen the inconvenience that resulted from the eccentric movements of the Titania. No sooner had he settled himself firmly to meet the “ fore-and-aft ” motion than he was displaced by a sudden roll. Once, indeed, there came a thunder of billows against the side, and in another instant the vessel was flung, as he thought, upon her beam ends—she seemed not to have ridden the waves, but to have been tossed like a feather from one mighty crest to another. He gasped for breath, and before the ship righted herself he experienced the sensation of being overwhelmed by the mighty waters.

Even Barry Fitzgerald was roused from his slumbers by the blow the vessel had sustained at that moment.

“Are you all right, Tom?” he shouted from the lower bunk.

“ All right here,” Tom replied. “ That was as narrow a chance of being thrown on our beam ends as I should like a ship I was sailing in to run.”

" It was something of a surprise to me,” said Fitzgerald. “ The wind seems to have freshened considerably while we were asleep,” he added, after a pause that was filled up by the howling of the gale in the hollows of the sails and its wild shrieking through the rigging.

“ Wind—freshened—considerably! I should rather think it has!” shouted Tom. “Why, it must be blowing a full gale. There cannot be any canvas worth speaking of on the ship, or she would be steadier. Hold on! ”

Before he had quite spoken, another heavy sea struck the craft, causing her to reel and stagger, and giving the two passengers quite enough to do to keep themselves in their bunks. When they recovered from this second shock, they heard the captain’s voice on the deck shouting some orders, and then came the sound of the crew hastening to carry out his command. The noise of the ropes thrown about the deck, the creaking of the tackle, and now and again the wild flapping of a piece of canvas, mingled with the inharmonious strident shriek of the cordage.

Sleep under such circumstances was, of course, impossible. Tom and his friend could only lie in their bunks waiting for the day to dawn. During these hours they experienced something of the drawbacks of a seafarer’s life. They had felt it to be very pleasant indeed to sit on the deck in their chairs, with the sunshine about them and the fresh breath of the sea upon their faces, but such agreeable moments were surely more than counterbalanced by the discomfort of this night of storm.

“It is quite as well that you have resigned yourself to the wearing of a beard,” laughed Tom, as he wedged himself into a corner of the cabin, trying to pull on some of his garments.

“ I agree with you,” said his friend, jumping to one side to avoid the splash of the water over the edge of the basin, into which he had poured about a cupful—quite too large a quantity, it appeared, for the depth of the basin; for though the water remained level, the vessel that contained it could not be induced to do so, and at every lurch of the ship a splash took place.

“ If you don’t dip your face into the basin between the pitches of the vessel, you will lose your chance,” said Tom.

“ I never knew so fully before, the excellence of the advice to take the current when it serves,” remarked Fitzgerald.

When, after a very unsatisfactory toilet, the passengers found themselves on deck, they were quite astonished at the scene before them. Only the smallest amount of sail was upon the vessel, and even with this she was labouring heavily. The seas were so high they made a clean breach over the bows, sweeping the decks fore and aft Two men were at the wheel, and they were not keeping a course, but only allowing the vessel to run before the wind. The captain, in oilskins and sou’wester, was holding on by a stay, superintending the lashing down of one of the boats, which Tom could see had its side partly stove in. Every now and again the captain would cast a look aloft, for, even close-reefed as they were, the sails showed signs of distress.

The passengers picked their steps as carefully as they could through the water that swirled along the decks before running out at the scuppers, and they were soon glad to find themselves in the cosy little cabin, though the dead-lights had been lowered over the ports, and the table bore only the smallest amount of breakables.

“We are running with bare poles in the cabin as well as on deck,” remarked the steward. “ That’s the worst of a gale; it doesn’t give a man a chance of showing that he knows how a table should be laid, and the galley is never in complete working order.”

“ Yes,” said Tom, with a laugh, “ that is the worst of a gale, from your standpoint; but it’s quite likely the captain has other notions on the subject.”

“ Oh, the captain! ” said the steward, with pity in his voice. “ The captain, sir, doesn’t care if there was neither galley nor cook aboard his ship, and I quite believe that he looks upon the steward as a dead head—a passenger that doesn’t pay his fare, and is always getting in the way when there is work to be done. I made him a cup of tea at four bells, and he only drank half of it before he ran off to superintend the clearing away of the wreck of the jibboom.”

“ What, is the jibboom gone? ” cried Tom.

“ It was carried away during the night, sir,” replied the steward.

“Why, it must have been a regular heavy gale,” remarked Fitzgerald.

“Heavy gale, sir? Well, another ounce or two added to its weight would have been too much for the Titania, laden as she is.”

“There will, no doubt, be a spare jibboom aboard, so that the accident is not a serious one,” said Tom. “Let us hope that the weather will moderate sufficiently to allow the carpenter to bend on the new spar.”

CHAPTER XIV.
THE SAILORS’ SUPERSTITION.

TOWARD evening the gale moderated in some measure, but the sea was as high as ever, and no more sail was made. The carpenter and a number of the men were preparing the spare jibboom, so as to have it in readiness, when the sea should abate, to bend it on to the bowsprit. The next day, however, there was no hope of being able to do this work, though the captain thought he might venture to shake out the reefs of the sails that were already set, and to have the vessel put on a course. On the afternoon of this day, for the first time since the gale commenced, the captain took his watch below. The steward had said many severe things about him at every meal; for the steward gave people to understand that he regarded the ship only as a sort of floating hotel, and any irregularity in attendance at the cuddy, he thought, should be visited with a rebuke.

For three days the weather continued moderate; the new jibboom was bent on satisfactorily, and the long boat was made staunch once more. Tom and his friend were glad to be able to take their places again on the deck; and Finn MacCoul,the blackbird,became almost eloquent in his address to his master as he stalked about the brass bars of the cabin skylight; but somehow all his songs and speeches ended with the warning, “Ye don’t know what’s before ye! Ye don’t know what’s before ye!”

More than once, Fitzgerald noticed some of the crew standing in the neighbourhood of the bird while he was talking, but they did not seem to be at all amused by the exercise of his faculty; they invariably went to the fore part of the ship, shaking their heads gravely.

One evening, after the Titania had been made ship-shape once more, and the steward’s heart had been gladdened by the reappearance of Captain Rogers at the cuddy, Tom’s old friend the boatswain came up to him as he was practising his hand making a splice.

“ What sort o’ thing is that, sir? ’’ he asked, in a low tone, jerking his thumb in the direction of the blackbird, which was even more merry than usual, as he perched himself upon the edge of the skylight and shrieked down to his master in the cabin. “ What sort o’ a thing is that, sir, anyways?”

“ Why, can’t you see that it’s a blackbird? ” said Tom.

“ Ay, it’s black enough, anyhow, to be that or something else in the black line,” muttered the boatswain.

“ It’s a very funny creature,” said Tom. “ You would fancy it knew what you were talking about, or even thinking about.”

“ And why shouldn’t it? Things like that has no trouble knowing all that’s in your mind as well as all that’s going to happen.”

“ How on earth could it know what’s going to happen, unless it hears the steward’s bell, and then it knows that dinner-time is come?”

“‘How on earth?’you say, sir; but maybe it’s not of the earth at all, but learns all it knows from another quarter.”

“ How can you talk such nonsense? ” cried Tom; for the man was speaking in a low and mysterious tone, winking in a suggestive way.

“ Maybe it is nonsense, sir,” said the boatswain; “ but there’s many will think it good enough sense for the wear and tear of ordinary life. Now, I’ve heard parrots and, maybe, cockatoos speaking away quite nat’ral, and no harm come of it; but I never did hear tell o’ a blackbird singing one minute like a sensible bird, and then beginning all of a sudden to talk like a Christ’an. It’s again’ all nature, I says, and no good can come to any ship that has aught like that aboard.”

“How on earth could the simple fact of a bird being aboard a ship bring any harm to it?” asked Tom. “If it was made of iron, and insisted on planting itself on the side of the binnacle, I could understand some harm being produced by its presence, but otherwise it is impossible to imagine that it could do any mischief whatever.”

“It’s very easy proving anything like what you say, sir,” said the boatswain; “but it’s not so easy making an able-bodied seaman think different to what he does. Nothing that’s unnat’ral can be right, we says, and there’s nobody that can say we’re astray on this point, for it stands to reason that if unnat’ral things was right, they’d be more plentiful in the world; but they’re scarce enough, thank goodness, and all goes right. Yes, Mr. Courtland; and the Titania isn’t used to such things as a blackbird that will sit there and jaw you like a sea-lawyer until further notice.”

The boatswain, having thus delivered himself, went to the fore part of the ship, shaking his head gravely, as before.

That evening, when at tea in the cuddy, Tom told the captain and Fitzgerald of his interview with the boatswain, regarding the “uncanny” aspect of Finn MacCoul aboard the vessel.

Fitzgerald laughed, and declared that he would protect his bird if the whole crew should attack it en masse.

" If it had not been given to me by my foster-mother, I would not have had anything to say to it,” he said; “but the old woman made me give my word that I would take it with me wherever I went, and she promised that it would bring me luck.”

“You are as bad as the boatswain,” said Tom. “ It is as stupid to fancy that the bird will bring luck as it is to fancy it will bring disaster.”

The captain shook his head, but before he could say a word, there was a shout on deck, and then the sound of a heavy fall, followed by the tread of many feet.

The captain ran to the companion, and while he was getting on deck, the voice of Mr. Ring-land was heard from above.

“ Come on deck quickly, sir! ” he shouted. “ One of the crew has fallen from the yard-arm to the deck, and we fear he is killed.”

CHAPTER XV.
TIIE ROUND ROBIN.

THE captain was on deck in a moment, followed by the two passengers. At the foot of the mainmast, the man who had fallen was lying surrounded by the men of the watch, while the carpenter, being the nearest approach to a professional man in the ship’s company, was administering, or trying to administer, a pannikin of water to him.

The captain saw at once that the man was not dead. He had fallen, not upon his head, but upon all-fours; and though his arm was broken, it might be said that he had escaped wonderfully. He had been sent aloft to free the running of a line that had become fast in a block; at the first jerk he had given the line it had run through, but he had failed to regain his hold upon the earring, and had thus fallen upon the deck. The captain bound up the Arm and put a splint about it—for he had had a pretty extensive surgical experience—and the unlucky man was placed in a spare bunk in the carpenter’s cabin amidships.

That night, Fitzgerald noticed the watch talking together, even more mysteriously than before, and from the fo’c’s’le also came the sound of voices. He went up to Mr. Gulbrandsen, who was on watch, and called attention to this strange incident; for the men were, as a rule, silent. It is only when sailors are ashore that they are noisy.

“ Somezing is going to happen, you may be sure,” said the mate. “ Ven men take to talking, it argues nozing good. Men talk for two zings: eider to make somezing bad happen, or to make every one know zey are fools. I have been vatching ze vatch for more zan a full hour.”

“ What can it mean, do you think? ”

The Norwegian shook his head. “Ve shall soon see. Zere is no use trying to guess vat a sailor is zinking about ven he does take to ze unusual practice of zinking.”

While they were talking thus, one of the crew was seen to come up through the fo’c’s’le hatch and walk to the boatswain’s berth, coming out from thence, bearing in his hand a small stone ink-bottle and a pen. He then returned to the fo’c’s’le, and the voices below became less loud; only now and again a sentence was heard, but of course the words could not be made out by Fitzgerald or the mate.

“ An inkbottle! zat is vorse and vorse,” said the latter. “ It is bad enough ven a sailor takes to talking, but ven he takes to writing he can only be looked upon as astray in ze mind. Ink is a terrible zing.”

“ But what is the upshot of the present business? ” asked Fitzgerald.

“ Ve shall see to-morrow.”

The mate was right, for the next day, immediately after the captain had “taken the sun” and had marked off the ship’s position upon the chart, there appeared outside the chart-room one of the ship’s boys, with his cap in one hand and a large sheet of paper folded neatly, but not particularly clean, in the other hand.

“Well, my lad, what’s your business aft?” said the captain, coming out of his room.

“ If you please, sir, it’s me that’s the youngest hand aboard, and so they said I was to carry it to you, though in course it wasn’t me that started it, sir; and I hope that bringin’ it’s no offence, sir.”

“ What is it? ” asked the captain.

The boy handed him the paper, making a scrape with one foot on the deck, by way of obeisance. He then turned and made his way back to the fo’c’s’le as quickly as was consistent with the preservation of his dignity as a delegate of the crew.

“ I know what it is,” muttered the captain to himself, as he unfolded the paper. “A round-robin? Yes, I thought so.”

Upon the large sheet of paper there was drawn a circle, exactly the size of one of the tin plates in use in the fo’c’s’le j in fact, the rim of one of the plates had been used as a guide in drawing the circle. In the middle of this there was a smaller ring, the guide for which had evidently been the rim of a penny, and radiating from the smaller circle there were a number of names scrawled in various degrees of illegibility. Outside the large circle, but following its course as accurately as possible, the captain read with some difficulty the following:—

“To cap. Rogers—sir us of the crew of the bark Titania of Bayport Rogers master whose names has ben rote hearwith and them that cant rite or spel propperly has made there mark umly begs to state that weave no caws to come plane of the ship the mast-er or the orfizzers but sir we says that no luck can come to a ship that has so unilateral a burd if it is a burd that sings and wobbles like a reel burd and then tawx and larfs as some hear has ben thare wen it did like a cristan hewman bein so we umly opes it may be sett free beefore it doo more ill for it brawt on the gale and well ni cost jim Close his life threw the fall weal ave no luck cap. Rogers sir til it goes for it is 2 black to bee good.”

These words filled up all the space between the outer circle and the margin of the paper; but within the circumference of the smaller circle were the lines:—

“ We speek good sence”
And means no O fence”
And so says awl of us”
Whoat has ritten our names thus.”

Captain Rogers did not laugh until he got inside the chart-room once more, for he knew that on deck some of the men were looking at him, and he did not wish that they should think he was receiving their document with ridicule. He knew the round-robin was a supreme literary effort on the part of the crew, and that its preparation had occupied the greater part of the watch below of the composer. In the chart-room, however, he laughed heartily, but only for a few moments. Then he shook his head seriously.

“ They may be fools,” he said; “ but they are seamen, and though a superstition may be foolish enough, it is not easily got rid of. It was stupid on my part to allow the thing to be brought aboard, in the first instance.”

He then went aft to where the two passengers were sitting, and asked them to follow him to the cabin. They did so, and when they had got below, he spread out the round-robin on the table, in front of Fitzgerald, without a word.

The young man read the document with a considerable amount of difficulty, and when he had got through it, he did not laugh, even once.

“ I never heard of anything so ridiculous,” he said. “ How on earth can men be such fools! Why, you couldn’t find a parallel to this superstition among the greatest savages.”

The captain shook his head.

“ It is easy enough saying that, Mr. Fitzgerald; but if you have ever been to a place called Ireland, I think you will admit that quite as foolish pieces of superstition exist among the people there. But for that matter, you needn’t travel outside England to come in contact with people believing in charms, and in lucky and unlucky days. That, however, is not the question.”

“What is the question?” said Fitzgerald. “You surely cannot expect that I will send my bird adrift at the suggestion of the crew, and because of their foolish fancies? ”

“ I thought not,” said the captain, quietly. “Then I shall have to face the crew as best I can. Even if you were willing, I would not advise you to do what the round-robin requests.”

“I only wish we had never seen the bird,” said Tom, with some degree of impatience.

“ I am as much attached to it now as if it were a human being,” said Fitzgerald, warmly; “and if it is condemned to leave the ship, you may take my name off the list of passengers too.”

“Nothing further need be said on this matter,” remarked the captain, going on deck once more.

The same evening, at the beginning of the dogwatch, the captain gave orders to the boatswain to pipe all the crew astern, and soon the quarter-deck was crowded with the entire ship’s company.

“ My men,” said the captain, “ I have received this round-robin from you ”—he held out the document—“but what you ask me to do, I may tell you at once, without any beating up to windward, can’t be done. I can’t order one of my passengers to set the bird adrift any more than I can order him to throw his gold watch overboard. But I must tell you that the bird is a lucky one. It’s not a raven or a magpie; and besides, its tongue has been cut by a silver knife, and that makes it all right.”

There was a murmur of satisfaction among the men, and they looked at one another, nodding and winking significantly.

“ We ask your pardon, sir, but we didn’t know that its tongue had been cut with silver,” said one of the men.—“ Of course, that accounts for its having all the jaw, mates.”

“And that makes it lucky, does it?’’said a more sceptical one.

The others looked at him somewhat contemptuously.

“ Of course, it makes it lucky to be cut with silver,” answered the first speaker, who was evidently the master-mind of the fo’c’s’le.

“ Then you are quite satisfied? ” said the captain.

“ Oh yes, sir, yes,” murmured the crew; but suddenly there came a sturdy, “ No, sir,” from the man who had ventured to question the value of the silver as a charm against the ill-luck attached to the bird.

“ I humbly beg pardon, sir; but in my belief a bird that’s black means ill-luck to sailor-men and the craft they sail in. All lucky sea-birds is white, as we can testify. There’s none that brings better luck nor a gull; and you’ll find that, silver and all, we haven’t heard the last o’ the thing—for it is a thing, and no reasonable bird—that’s below.”

“ Come along, mates,” said the leader of the men. “ Hiram Prior knows nought about luck or unluck, or he’d know that no spell can stand agen the stroke o’ silver.”

“ Now, then, quartermaster, make it four bells! ” cried the captain, as a hint that he was going to say nothing further on the matter.

“ Four bells it is, sir,” said the quartermaster, replacing the cap that he held in his hand.

In another minute all the men had left the quarter-deck, after making due obeisance to the captain, their politeness taking the form of scrapings of the deck with some, and of twitch-ings of the forelock with others.

Tom and Fitzgerald laughed heartily in the cabin that evening at the clever way the captain had got out of the difficulty.

“Yes,” said the captain, “the men are satisfied for the present; but,all the same,.I would advise you not to take your friend Finn MacCoul on deck again. He might not get off so easily, the next time his morality is called in question.”

“ I will look after him, you may be sure,” said Fitzgerald.

He nodded in the direction of the cage, and the bird seemed' to catch his eye; for in another instant there came from the cage a loud laugh, and then the usual phrase, “Ye dont know what’s before ye! Ye don’t know what’s before ye! Awful—awful—awful! ”

''I don’t blame the crew,” said Captain Rogers, shaking his head.

CHAPTER XVI.
A COLLISION IN MID OCEAN.

FOR the next two days all went well aboard the Titania. The man whose arm had been broken was progressing favourably, and, by the aid of the fresh breeze that was blowing, the vessel made great progress on her way to the southwest. The sun was becoming daily warmer overhead, and the genial atmosphere was extremely agreeable to the two passengers, as they sat on their deck-chairs, reading all the books they had brought with them respecting explorations in Northern Australia and the South Pacific.

After the ship had been at sea about three weeks, however, the wind dropped; and one morning, Tom, on coming on deck, found all the sails drooping without a wrinkle, from yard to yard. The main boom swung over the deckhouse, but the sheet was quite slack, and the ring of the block that passed through the stanchion rumbled gently, but only through the drifting of the ship in a current of the ocean. The man who was beside the wheel was letting the spokes run through his fingers idly, but it was the rudder that controlled the wheel, not the wheel the rudder.

To the boy who had never experienced a tropical calm, the scene was very wonderful. Every word spoken aboard the ship seemed to be echoed over the still waters for leagues, and then the silence was so intense, it seemed like the Egyptian darkness that might be felt. He was inclined to speak in whispers, for fear of breaking in upon this mystery of quietude.

The captain was far from being as well satisfied as his passengers were with the calm. He was as constantly on deck as he had been in the early days of storm in the Bay of Biscay. He looked first up to the sails, then all round the horizon, and finally at his aneroid. He would never have forgiven himself if even the lightest breeze had come within hailing distance of the ship without being made use of. When he tapped his faithful aneroid, however, and found that the index finger was as steady as though it were painted upon the dial, he resigned himself to circumstances, and indulged in the luxury of a cigar on the deck with his passenger?.

“ Ve vill make up for zis in a day or two, you vill find, Mr. Courtland,” remarked the Norwegian mate to Tom, as they stood together that night. The atmosphere seemed doubly still when the darkness had come. The night was anything but clear; scarcely a star was to be seen, and the water all round the vessel was black, only lit up at intervals with phosphorescent flashes as a shoal of flying fish would rise and skim along the surface for many yards. So still was the surface of the water, the very ripples made by the falling of the fish when their flight was completed caused the ship to sway perceptibly.

“ Ve vill have some bad vedder after zis,” continued Mr. Gulbrandsen, in his most cheerful tone.

“ Sufficient unto the day is the weather thereof,” said Tom. “Can’t you enjoy the present without looking forward to a dismal future? ”

“It is veil to be prepared for the vorst,” remarked the Norwegian.

“In that case you have nothing to reproach yourself with,” said Tom.

Meeting Mr. Ringland a short time afterwards, he thought he would see what view the second officer took of the situation.

“Weather, Mr. Courtland?” said Ringland “ Oh, splendid weather, indeed. And it will be just like this for the rest of the voyage.”

“Just like this?”

“ Exactly, sir,” said the Irishman. “ I’ve sailed many times to the East in this season, and it has always been just like this.”

“ If the weather was the same as this, I don’t think you made a great deal of progress,” laughed the boy.

“ Well, we had a bit more wind, I allow, but still splendid weather,” said the mate, anxious to hold on to the last to his prophecy of favourable things.

Tom felt that every one aboard the Titania should be regarded as singularly fortunate, since all temperaments would find congenial companions aboard. Those who were disposed to take a gloomy view of matters could not object to Mr. Gulbrandsen on the score of his cheerfulness, and those who looked at everything in its best light could never accuse Mr. Ringland of a desire to be despondent.

That night Tom and his friend laid out once again a chart of the north coast of Australia and the adjacent islands, and continued discussing the advisability of directing their attention., in the first instance, to some of the smaller islands of that archipelago, on the chance that the boat of the Black Swan might have found its way to one of these, the crew being thus shut off from communication with the world.

Captain Rogers thought the idea a good one, and they remained discussing the matter in all its bearings until the eight-bells of midnight had been struck.

The two passengers then turned into their cabin, and were soon asleep in their bunks.

It seemed to Tom that he had only just closed his eyes, though in reality he had slept for some hours, when he heard upon the deck a shout. In an instant he was sitting up in his bunk. There was a sound of a furious ringing of the ship’s bell, and in another moment there came a shock astern that dashed him heavily against the side of his berth. Then he heard a crash and a grinding of timbers, and the shouting of many voices.

“ What on earth can have happened? ” shouted Fitzgerald. “ Are you safe, old boy? ”

Before Tom could reply, the door of the cabin was opened quickly.

“ Mr. Fitzgerald, Mr. Courtland, get on deck, if you wish to save your lives. The Titania has been run down by a steamer!” shouted the steward.

CHAPTER XVII.
“THREE FEET OF WATER IN THE HOLD.”

AT the sound of the first shout that Tom heard he was wide awake, but now he seemed to be in a dream, pulling on his clothes by the side of Fitzgerald, but uttering no word. The cabin was in darkness, but neither of its occupants made any attempt to strike a light. Only through one of the windows came the uncertain glare of a lantern from the deck.

In a very few moments, and without having exchanged a word, both young men were outside their state-room; and as they came on deck, there shot high into the air a rocket from the stern, then a second, and then a third. What were those signals meant for? Tom wondered. He had not long to wait for an answer. Looking over the stern, he saw in the distance the red port-light of a steamer, and also the masthead light, and the gleam that came through the cabin ports. He heard the sound of the revolving propeller, and then he knew the truth. The steamer, after running down the Titania, was speeding away without waiting to find out the extent of the damage that was done. The shock to the Titania had been terrific — no vessel could survive it—and yet the sound of the “ churning” of the propeller was becoming gradually more indistinct through the distance.

“ Don’t waste another rocket, Mr. Ringland,” said the captain, through his set teeth; “we’ll need all the rockets we have aboard. Axes, carpenter, and clear away the wreck of the mizzen-mast. See to the chain pumps, boatswain. Sound the water in the well, quartermaster.”

Half a dozen lanterns were being carried about the deck, and by their light Tom saw that the mizzen shrouds on the starboard side had been carried away, and that the mast, with the spars of the mainsail, was lying over the side. The bulwarks for many yards astern had also been carried away, and the timbers of the deck had been torn up. The man who had been beside the wheel had had a narrow escape when the mast had fallen. Had the force of the concussion not caused the vessel to heel over, the topmast must certainly have fallen upon him.

Tom and Fitzgerald, without a word, seized two of the knives the carpenter brought, and commenced aiding the axes of the crew in hacking away the wreckage of the mizzen-mast; but the captain had swung himself over the side, and with a lantern was examining the damage done to the timbers. He was soon on deck again, and at the same instant the quartermaster with the lead hurried aft.

“There’s nigh two feet of water in the well, sir,” he said.

“Man the windlass of the after-hold!” shouted the captain. “Let the wreck of the mast lie well over the port side, to give her a list to port. Remove the hatches, carpenter. Jettison as much as you can of the cargo stowed at the starboard side, Mr. Gulbrandsen. Pumps in order, boatswain ? ”

“ Ay, ay, sir! ”

“ Starboard-watch to the pumps. Port-watch to the windlass. Steward and cabin-boy, provision the long boat. Look alive all! ”

The crew certainly did look alive, and soon the ship, that five minutes before had been lying silent and motionless on the tranquil ocean, was the scene of noise and bustle. The hatches had been knocked off, and the creaking of the windlass aft vied with the creaking of the chain pumps forward. The darkness of the night had not abated, and the lanterns, placed on the deck and hoisted between the masts, made a singular illumination to this scene of activity.

Not a man aboard the vessel was idle; even the one who had broken his arm during the first week of the voyage was standing with a lantern at the coaming of the hatch. Tom and his friend were working at the windlass, and so actively that they by no means regretted having left their cabin with only their shirts and trousers on. Bale after bale of precious merchandise was hoisted up from the hold and swung over the side into the water to lighten the vessel; and after thousands of pounds worth had been dispersed in this way, the captain gave orders for the deck, at the port-side, to be heaped with the heaviest goods—Sheffield ware and such like— to give the vessel the requisite “list,” for the damage done to the timbers extended below watermark. The goods were so placed, however, as not to choke the scupper-holes, through which the water was now running in streams from the pumps.

The captain and the carpenter were in a boat that had been lowered over the side, and they examined every inch of the smashed timbers, so far as they were able, and the conclusion they came to was that no list that could be given to the vessel would disclose the extent of the damage. When morning dawned, the report from the ship’s well was that, in spite of the pumping, there were six inches more of water in the hold.

“This will never do,” said the captain. “ We must find some way of stopping the leak.”

At the suggestion of the second officer, the large tarpaulin that covered the hatches was passed, by means of stout lines and weights, beneath the keel of the vessel, and then hauled up over the shattered side, so as to form a gigantic patch over the leak, the lines being still passed under the keel and over the bulwarks on the port side, so as to make the tarpaulin taut. It seemed that this contrivance answered the purpose for which it was designed, for the next sounding revealed no increase of water in the well.

“ We can keep her afloat for a week,” said the captain, wiping his forehead when this work was accomplished, and the windlass aft had ceased to work, though of course the pumps were not allowed to slacken. “ Yes, we can keep her afloat for a week.”

“ A fortnight,” said Mr. Ringland. “Twenty-four hours,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen; “and only so long if it continues fine vedder. I have seen ze tarpaulin trick tried before now. It only does for fair vedder, and now ze barometer is falling. Ve may have half a gale before night."

When the sun rose, the Titania was lying upon the water practically a wreck. The mizzenmast was hanging over the bulwarks, and the fore-topmast had also snapped off with the force of the collision.

Of course the captain ordered nearly all sail to be taken off the vessel, but such an order was not easily accomplished by the hands that remained over from those who were working the pumps. Before anything beyond the main-royals had been taken in, and while the wreck of the fore-topmast remained uncut away, a breeze sprung up. A man ran to the wheel, and then it was discovered that the axle of the steering-gear had been so warped by the shock of the collision, the wheel remained jammed, and the rudder chancing to be hard-a-starboard and immovable from that position, the sails were taken aback, and several torn to shreds, though the hands on deck let go the braces immediately. What was worse, the vessel heeled over to starboard, and the bales ranged along the port side, rolled across the deck, so that the water rushed in volumes through the rent above the tarpaulin. In a few moments the vessel’s head swung round, the yards were squared, and the bales rolled across the deck once more. Never was a craft in a less ship-shape condition. It was like a runaway horse, and those aboard were in the position of a rider who has neither bridle nor saddle.

The carpenter had a pretty busy time of it, detaching the rudder from the steering gear that had become disabled, and rigging up blocks on either quarter for a jury tiller. The greater part of the morning was passed before the ship could be steered, and when at last things became more ship-shape, the quartermaster reported to Captain Rogers—

“ Three feet of water in the hold, sir.”

The captain said nothing, but seated himself on the skylight, now shattered and twisted into an almost shapeless mass, and passed his fingers thoughtfully through his hair.

“Barometer still falling, sir,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen.

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE LAST OF THE “TITANIA”

WELL,” said Tom Courtland, going up to where the captain was seated, “ well, what is the verdict? Is the Titania to be abandoned, or are we to hold on by her, and go to the bottom in proper style? ”

“ I only wish I had a quiet five minutes with the captain of that steamer,” said Captain Rogers, looking up. “The scoundrel! What sort of watch was he keeping, not to see our lights?—and then to sheer off without waiting to find out whether we could float for another half-hour!”

“ It could have been no English steamer that treated us that way,” said Tom.

“ No,” said the captain. “ It is a South American coaster, on the voyage from the Brazils to the Indies. I wish I could fall in with him ”

“To fall in with him would be the same as falling out with him,” laughed Tom. “Never mind the Spanish captain, but tell us what you mean to do.”

“ What would you have me do? ” shouted the captain. “I mean to do nothing, young man, absolutely nothing, because nothing can be done. Will you take command of the ship and give us your tides’ way? Oh, go and pack up your portmanteau, and take the overland route home! Never you come to sea again, my lad; no one but a fool ever does come to sea! Better to be a tailor, or tinker, or baker, or candlestick-maker, than the master of the finest craft afloat. A few hours ago we were in the best of trim, and now what are we? The poets that prate of the noble sea and sing about the happiness of a life on the ocean wave have a lot to answer for.”

“ How long will the Titania keep afloat? ” asked Tom, as the captain rose and was about to walk away.

“ At the present rate of making water, about fifteen hours.” The captain was evidently not disposed to be communicative. His brusque and almost rude manner did not, however, produce any impression upon Tom. He knew how much the captain was suffering, and sympathized with him heartily.

The boatswain was standing by the girders of the tarpaulin, doing his best to take them in an inch or two.

“ It’s a bad business this, sir,” he said to Tom; “ but what else could be expected with that black, unnat’ral creatur aboard? It’s the bird that has brought all the trouble upon us from the time we set sail. But never mind, sir; the captain, as I think I mentioned before, is a wonderful man. He’ll pull us through, don’t you fear.”

“ I don’t fear,” said Tom; “ but it would be more satisfactory if I knew by what means the operation of pulling us through is to be performed.”

He walked away quickly, for he was nearly tired hearing the boatswain’s account of the captain’s ability; he thought that the captain, if he had formed any plans for saving the ship, might at least have communicated them to his passengers.

“ Mr. Courtland, will you please make as small a bundle as you can of whatever you must take with you in the boat? ” said Mr. Ringland, who had at that moment come aft.

“ In the boat? ” cried Tom. “Are we to take to the boats? ”

“ There’s nothing else for it; the ship cannot float more than about fifteen hours at the utmost. But never mind,” continued the mate, cheerily; “ we shall be all right in the boats. We are only two days’ sail from the coast of the Brazils, and the boats are all staunch and well found.”

Having given Tom his instructions, the second officer hurried away to discharge some other duty.

Just then Barry Fitzgerald hastened up to Tom.

“You know what is to be done?” Fitzgerald cried. “We are to take to the boats.”

“So I believe,” said Tom.

“This is a bad start on our expedition, old boy,” remarked Fitzgerald, sadly.

“ A bad start indeed! But never mind; Mr. Ringland says we shall be in some port of Brazil in a few days, and we must make a fresh start from there.”

“ Yes, if we ever reach it. Mr. Gulbrandsen says if it comes on to blow a gale, we shall have no chance in the boats.”

“ Oh, I have no patience with that man! ” cried Tom. “He takes a wonderful amount of trouble to show us everything at its worst. Well, I suppose we must pack up whatever we may carry with us.”

It went to the hearts of the young men to be compelled to leave in their chests so many of those articles which had been suggested by the thoughtfulness of the outfitter as likely to be of service on an exploring expedition; but their rifles and ammunition they could not part with. They felt that they could convince the captain that ballast of this description was absolutely necessary for the safety of the boats.

While engaged in their packing, the steward entered their cabin.

“ Do, gentlemen, come down to the cuddy and show the captain a good example! ” he cried. “ I have laid out a capital tiffin for you all, and though it’s the last meal you are likely to have aboard this craft, I can’t get any of you to sit down to it. If you don’t come at once, the water will have reached the cabin floor, and you will not find it so comfortable. Do come down for the farewell meal.”

It was impossible to resist such an entreaty; so both Fitzgerald and Tom descended, and found that the steward had prepared a sumptuous repast for them, and, moreover, laid it out in the best style the resources of the ship would allow. It seemed, however, a mockery of their fate for the passengers to sit down to a table so brilliant with silver and glass, and so heaped with choice dishes; but no matter what may happen aboard a ship, the cook and the steward perform their avocations as usual. Even though the young men knew that beneath their feet the water was gradually rising every moment, they made a hearty meal.

On deck, the officers and crew were certainly not idle. The pumps were being worked more actively than ever by men stripped to the waist, like a man-of-war’s men in action. Others, who had completed their trick at the pumps, were lying asleep on the decks; and others were stowing provisions and water in the boats. The carpenter had stepped the mast in the long boat, and was making some alteration upon one of the beams. Tom could not help feeling that all aboard had great reason to be thankful that the damage done was not of such a nature as to bring about the foundering of the vessel in a moment, as so many collisions do. The time that was allowed them to prepare for leaving the vessel was ample to provide for the voyage in the boats.

Every hour the water in the well was sounded, and it was found to be increasing so slowly that the captain had great hope of keeping the vessel afloat till the next morning. By careful steering, the light breeze that was blowing was made the most of, and the Titania was sailing at the rate of nearly three knots.

It was an anxious night for every one aboard the Titania. The boats were in readiness to be launched, and every man knew the place he was to occupy. The first boat was to be commanded by the captain himself, and the second by Mr. Gulbrandsen. The two passengers learned that they were to occupy places in the captain’s boat; and having worked until their hands were blistered by the side of the men at the pumps, they turned into their bunks, and, in spite of their knowledge that the ship was slowly but surely settling down beneath them, fell asleep almost immediately, and did not awake until the captain’s voice sounded at the door of their cabin.

“ Long boat’s company, stand by to launch! ”

They started up, and were amazed to find that it was dawn.

Through the six hours that they had slept, the vessel had settled down to such an extent that the water was within a few inches of the scuppers. Had there been any sea on, she would, of course, have foundered long before.

“ There will be the less trouble launching the boats,” remarked Tom, when his friend alluded to the condition of the vessel.

When they had come on deck, they found that one boat had already left the ship, and the men were standing by the other at the captain’s command. It seemed that the captain was delaying as much as possible his departure. Fitzgerald could see that, though a stern look was upon his face, his lips quivered now and again. The young man knew what his feelings were when the hour had come to part from the good craft that had borne him in safety on so many voyages, east and west.

“ Let her go, men! ” the captain cried at last to the crew, who were standing with the boat-lines in their hands.

“ Let go, it is, sir.”

The running gear creaked for a few moments, and then the splash of the boat in the water was heard, and the water-logged hull rolled slowly and heavily with the displacement caused by the launching of the boat.

“ Passengers first,” said the captain.

Tom immediately dropped over the side into the boat. At that instant, Fitzgerald ran back to his cabin, and the next moment there sounded over the deck the hoarse voice of the talking blackbird as it shrieked—

“Ye don’t know what’s before ye! Ye don’t know what’s before ye! ”

“Here, Tom,” said Fitzgerald, going over to the side with the cage, “take charge of this while I lower myself.”

“ Hold on, sir! ” cried one of the crew, taking a step forward. “ Asking your pardon for making so bold, sir, but that thing doesn’t come in the boat with us.”

“Then neither do I come,” said Fitzgerald. “ If the captain gives the order that the bird is to remain by the ship, he gives the order for me to do the same.”

“ We don’t know anything about that, sir; but that thing, that brought all the ill-luck to us, doesn’t come any farder with us. So says all of us, capt’n.”

“ Mr. Fitzgerald,” said the captain, “ I appeal to you, as a sensible man, knowing the prejudice that exists against the bird, not to insist on bringing it with you. You know very well the crew cannot be reasoned out of their superstition.”

For a moment—but only a moment—Fitzgerald stood irresolute with the cage in his hand. Then a sudden thought seemed to come to him. He opened the door of the cage; the bird flew out with his weird laugh that sounded like a chuckle of mockery, and'settled upon one of the yards of the mainmast, where he burst into a song of wonderful sweetness. For some moments no one on the deck moved. All stood in silence, looking aloft at the little songster that brought back to every hearer memories of home. If the bird had come down at that moment, no one would have opposed his joining the boat’s company.

Only one man on the deck of the Titania had apparently not had his attention engrossed by the song of the bird, and this man was the first to break the silence with^the shout of, “ A sail on the starboard quarter!”

It is unnecessary to say that from that moment no one heard the strains that poor Finn Mac-Coul was uttering aloft. The attention of all was directed to where, out of the silver dawn in the east, there came the smoke from the funnel of a steamer.

“ I knew it,” muttered the man who had been the spokesman for the crew in objecting to the presence of the blackbird. “ I knew it. The first stroke of luck comes when that thing is sent adrift”

“ Take your place in the boat, Mr. Fitzgerald,” said the captain. “To the boat all.”

The Titania had sunk still lower in the water, and had given a few suggestive rolls just before he spoke.

Fitzgerald dropped over the side, and was followed by those of the crew who had been assigned to the captain’s boat. But the captain himself was busy bending on a reversed ensign to the only mast that remained standing. When that was done, he shouted to Mr. Gulbrandsen in the first boat to hoist his sail, and steer a course to intercept the steamer, and soon the gig was flying over the water with the big lug set.

The captain then hastened to the passengers’ cabin, and catching up everything they had left behind them, threw all into the boat. He then did the same with whatever he could lay his hands on in his own cabin and the officers’ berths.

Every now and again he gave a glance to the east, and saw that the steamer, though not steering a course directly for the Titania, could scarcely fail to notice the reversed ensign on the mainmast.

“Now, then, sir!” shouted the boatswain from the thwarts of the long boat. The hull had sunk so low, he could, by standing on the thwarts, see over the deck of the barque. " Now, then, sir, if you don't want to founder with the hull.”

“Ay, ay, boatswain,” answered the captain, cheerily.

At that instant, the report of a gun sounded across the water. The captain saw that the steamer had now changed its course, and was bearing down upon the wreck.

“Tread light on the deck, sir; she’s giving her last roll! ” shouted the boatswain. “Tumble over, sir. The water is rushing in at the scuttles. Don’t let us be swamped in the swirl.”

There was certainly no time to lose. The boat came under the quarter of the vessel, and the captain quietly dropped into the stern sheets< “ Push off,” he cried; “ push off for your lives! ”

The boat was soon away from the foundering vessel; but before three hundred yards of water had been placed between them, there came the sharp report of the breaking of glass. The ports were being blown out of the cabins by the force of the compressed air within. The water rushed in through the vacant holes. Along the beading of the bulwarks and out on the bowsprit the rats were running, having been driven out of the hold by the water. The hull gave a roll, and the boat’s crew thought that she would founder instantly. She did not do so, however, but hung trembling, as it were, upon the swell. All this time the blackbird was singing away on the yard-arm.

Suddenly there came from the water-logged hull the sound of crackling, as if of flames, and then a loud explosion as the deck blew up. The hatches were smashed to pieces, and the surface of the sea for many yards around was covered with fragments of broken wood.

“ Show a bit of sail,” said the captain, grasping the boat’s tiller. He could not bear to see anything more of the sufferings of the vessel that had been so dear to him.

But before the sail had been hoisted, a cry from Tom Courtland caused the captain to look round again.

The bows of the Titania were already under water, the after-hold having been lightened. Once or twice the vessel, like a living creature from whom the life was rapidly ebbing away, seemed to struggle to right herself—-the bow actually succeeded in lifting itself clear of the water—but only for a few seconds; then, with a heavy plunge, it sank so deep that the broken stock of the foremast dipped beneath the surface. There was a sullen smothered noise, like the roar of a dying lion, and then the barque Titania disappeared for ever, leaving the water swirling and eddying over her.

The blackbird had ceased his song when the deck blew up, but still he held on to the yardarm, until it seemed that he was really determined to go down with the vessel. As soon as the mainmast stock touched the water, however, the bird, with one of his queer laughs, quietly left his perch and flew to his master aboard the boat, and entered his cage, remarking in an undertone—

“Ye don’t know what’s before ye! Ye don’t know what’s before ye! ”

Fitzgerald looked round, and saw that most of the crew were grimly smiling. He saw more than one, however, draw his shirt-sleeve across his eyes.

CHAPTER XIX.
AN AMERICAN CITIZEN.

THE large steamer which, within half an hour from the foundering of the Titania, picked up the two boats, was the Inca Chief, bound from Liverpool to the River Plate; and in less than a fortnight, Tom Courtland and his friend Barry P'itzgerald, instead of being, as they expected, at Cape Town on their way to the East, were at Buenos Ayres, and further removed than ever from their destination. They were, however, too full of thankfulness for their escape from the peril in which they had been placed by the collision, to feel broken down by the reflection that they were in a worse position now for attaining the object they had in view, than when they had started from home six weeks ago.

The captain of the Inca Chief was extremely kind to them so long as they remained aboard the steamer, and when they went ashore, he introduced them to the agents of the Inca line, who had no hesitation in providing them with cash for the bills which they carried with them to turn into money at the Cape and at Sydney. The captain was greatly interested in their project, and expressed his belief, honestly and sincerely, that they should obtain at least tidings of the loss of the Black Swan, if they did not actually succeed in discovering Geoffrey Courtland.

“ I am very glad that you think so,” said Tom; “ but we have made a very bad start on our enterprise—have we not? ”

“Oh, my boy,” laughed the captain, “when you become as accustomed to the freaks of seafaring as I am, you will not think of such a trifle for more than an hour or two. Did you expect when you started from England that all you would require to do would be to run up a sail and lie back on a deck-chair until the vessel found her way to where your brother would be waiting to be picked up, when you would all return to England with bronzed faces and grown pretty stout through so long a spell of idleness? ”

Tom laughed.

“No, I hardly looked forward to that,” he said; “ but, I must confess, I looked forward to being as many degrees east to-day as we are now to the west.”

“ What does that matter? " said the captain. “ Suppose you want to get at that chair ”—he pointed to one exactly opposite them, across the table at which they were sitting—“ does it matter whether you go round the table by the right or by the left? You haven’t left school long enough to have forgotten all that you were taught about geography. You want to reach the western part of the Pacific. Well, if you go out by that door and walk for a considerable distance, you will find yourself at the eastern part of that ocean, so that all you have to do is to sail sufficiently far, and you will find yourself at your destination.”

“I never thought of that,” said Tom, after a pause.

“Nor did I,” said Fitzgerald. “ I had set my mind so entirely upon the East, I had no thought for the West.”

“ Every modern treatise on geography begins with the words, ‘The earth is a sphere,”’ said the captain; “ and yet you could lose sight of the very rudiments of the study. I’m ashamed of you! ”

“ Then you would advise us to cross the Andes and try and obtain a vessel for Sydney or Melbourne, at some of the ports on the west coast?”

“I believe, seriously, you could not adopt a better course,” replied the captain of the steamer. “Ask Rogers here what he thinks of the matter.” “ I agree with everything you say, with the exception of crossing the peninsula,” said Captain Rogers. “ I believe that any one would be a fool to attempt to travel by land when he can do the same journey by sea.”

“ I wouldn’t advise the trip across the Mountains,” said the captain of the Inca Chief, “ Mr. Courtland himself put in that detail.”

“Then we shall go round the Horn,” cried Tom. “ How on earth was it that neither of us thought of that before, Fitz? ”

“I am sure I can’t tell,” said Fitzgerald, shaking his head.

After some further consultation, it was resolved that the two should take passage in one of the steamers round to Valparaiso, and wait there until they had a chance of a ship bound for Australia or New Zealand.

“ And now,” said Captain Rogers, “ I have one thing more to say to you, and that is on the subject of a master for the vessel you intend to do your exploring in. There is only one man among all my shipping acquaintance who I know would be fitted for such a duty, and that is Gulbrandsen.”

“ What! ” cried both of the young men.

“it is a fact,” replied the captain, quietly.

“ Gulbrandsen, in spite of his habit of taking the worst view of everything, is the only man I know who has had sufficient experience of the islands off the coast of New Guinea, and of New Guinea itself, to be of any value to you. He was for some years aboard a surveying ship engaged in those waters, and he knows every rock and every coral reef as well as I know the bearings in the English Channel. I meant to part with him for the sake of your expedition as soon as we reached Sydney.”

“ But would he join us? ” asked Tom.

“ I am sure he would be glad to do so,” replied Captain Rogers. “ I know he has for long had a hankering after his old pursuit. I never knew an Arctic explorer that could content himself with ordinary work, and it is the same with other explorers. Now, I am sure that our friend is a victim to the complaint. At any rate, if you give me permission, I shall have a talk with him to-night.”

“We will be altogether guided by you,” said Tom. He had no particular liking for the Norwegian, nor had Fitzgerald; but they trusted Captain Rogers implicitly.

The next morning Mr. Gulbrandsen appeared at the hotel and greeted the two young men without any show of enthusiasm or excessive cordiality.

“ How do you do? ” said Tom. “ Captain Rogers has, no doubt, asked you if you would undertake the command of the vessel in which we hope to go on this search for my brother?”

“ Yes, sir,” said the Norwegian.

“ And you have, I trust, made up your mind to join us? ”

“It did not take me long to make up my mind,” said the man, with a somewhat grim smile. “ I have always been hoping to get back at some of my old vork in zose vaters. But I vish to say zat you need not expect zat all vill be plain sailing. Ve may have to vork for a year before ve find out anyzing.”

“ We quite understand that.”

“ Good! Zen anoder zing is, zat I am to be number one, and not number two, aboard ze vessel.”

“Of course, if there is to be a commander, he must be supreme,” said Fitzgerald.

“Good! Zen you may depend zat I vill do all zat any man in ze vorld could do to bring you success,” cried Gulbrandsen, warming up for the first time. “ But I do not say zat you vill be successful,” he added, apparently fearing that, by his show of enthusiasm, he had compromised his reputation for putting the worst complexion upon everything.

“We can only do our best,” said Tom.

“ And we shall never say that you led us on by raising false hopes in us,” added Fitzgerald, with a smile.

The result of the advice given to them by both captains was that the two young men, accompanied by Mr. Gulbrandsen, shipped the next day on a steamer bound for Valparaiso. Captain Rogers, Mr. Ringland, and the boatswain had taken passages home, and the crew had no difficulty finding berths in various ships lying in the river.

The three passengers for Valparaiso arrived at that port in due course, and inside a fortnight they found a large full-rigged ship bound for Sydney. Though not fitted for carrying passengers, the master, who was a countryman of Fitzgerald’s, contrived to make room for the two young men, and was glad to accept the services of Mr. Gulbrandsen as second mate for the run —for the Norwegian declared that he would not allow any passage-money to be paid for him.

After an excellent voyage, but one which seemed to the passengers very much less interesting than that of the unfortunate Titania, the lovely harbour of Sydney was reached, and the young men, it can easily be believed, did not lose any time in getting ashore. The captain of the vessel and Mr. Gulbrandsen had been invited to dine with them at the hotel the same evening, and the colonial cookery was found to be quite equal to the most successful efforts that had been made in the galley of the ship they had just left.

The little party were sitting together in the coffee-room, previous to separating. The large apartment was almost empty, but at a distant table three gentlemen were seated, with glasses in front of them. One of them was a short man, with a very brown face and iron-grey hair and whiskers. His companions were far from being so picturesque in appearance. They were well-dressed gentlemen, and apparently colonial merchants. All three were talking together with considerable earnestness, and a map lay before them, to which they occasionally referred.

Tom glanced at them now and again, until the captain and Mr. Gulbrandsen rose to return to the ship. This action seemed to attract the attention of at least one man at the table, for he looked up and, leaning forward in his chair, scrutinized somewhat rudely Tom Courtland and his friends. All at once he gave a start, and, rising, walked to where the Norwegian was putting on his overcoat. He paused for an instant, apparently to satisfy himself that he was not mistaken; and then, without a word, he touched Mr. Gulbrandsen on the shoulder.

The Norwegian turned quickly, and gave an exclamation of surprise in his own tongue.

“ Yes, croaker,” said the bronzed and bearded stranger with an American inflexion, “I have turned up at last, and you are the very man I have been looking for. Come, don’t you begin to say that both of us are unlucky, but that you are the unluckier of the couple; and don’t you prophesy an earthquake, or a tornado, or something of the sort, as you usually do. I’ve been hoping to get on your track for the past six months to put something really good in your way; and here you come before me, like a double-action, well-greased ghost. Now, why don’t you speak and say you’re sorry to see me? That’s your style down to the ground.”

“ How can I speak, if you go on like one of your own sewing machines?” cried Mr. Gulbrandsen. “ I’m glad to see you, Mr. Phipson. Let me introduce you to zese gentlemen.”

“ Sorry to break in upon your party in this lubricated thunderbolt fashion,” said Mr. Phipson, when Mr. Gulbrandsen had introduced Tom Courtland and the others; “but the fact is, I I was struck all of a heap when our friend the Norse croaker flitted across my retina—I was speechless.”

“No, not speechless,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen, with a little laugh.

“Well, maybe, not speechless. The power of speech is the last that an Amer’can citizen parts with.”

“He uses his capacity in this direction to such advantage, it is just as well he retains it so long,” said Fitzgerald.

“Sir, I accept the compliment on behalf of the Amer’can nation,” said Mr. Phipson. “ I’m proud to meet you, gentlemen. The British nation have always more or less interest for an Amer’can, though they are a century or two behind time, and know nothing of the glorious effulgence of a democracy. When the British nation get tired of the monarchy, let them send across the Pond, and we’ll contract with them for the supply of a genuine Republican Government We’ll make you an offer for Windsor Castle, Balmoral, and the other royal palaces, and pension off the various members of the royal family, giving them the option of accepting engagements to lecture in the States. But this is premature. I apologize for putting myself forward this way. An Amer’can citizen is nothing if not shy, but I was kinder skeared at seeing the hardy Norseman again. I call him the Norse croaker, for he used to have a way of seeing the cloud without thinking of the silver lining. Maybe he goes on a different system now.”

“Oh yes,” said Fitzgerald. “He has gone into the other extreme; he is boyishly sanguine about even the most hopeless things.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” said Mr. Phipson. “ A liberal supply of cold water is healthy now and again for people who believe that the world is a football that they can kick about as they please. Mr. Gulbrandsen can throw as much cold water on the best-laid plans as reduces their temperature to a minimum. But he’s the man I have been wanting for the past six months. A big thing, my Viking, is now on foot, and we can’t do without you. Meet me here to-morrow morning at 9.30, and we’ll talk it over. Your fortune is made, if you see your way to join us. Don’t forget—9.30. Gentlemen, it’s the proudest moment of my life to have met you. I will say ‘ aw revaw,’ not good-bye.”

He bowed politely, and waving his hand gracefully to the party, returned to his two friends at the other table.

CHAPTER XX.
A TEMPTING OFFER.

WHEN Tom Courtland and his friends found themselves outside the hotel, they had a good laugh.

Mr. Gulbrandsen told the others that Mr. Phineas F. Phipson was an American gentleman, possessing even more than the average share of the enterprise of his nation. He had invented an improved sewing machine, and had realized a large fortune thereby. Then he had turned his attention to grazing cattle in the Western States, with equally fortunate results. Some years before he had formed a scheme for obtaining a monopoly of the pearl fishing trade in the South Seas, and had bought a vessel which Mr. Gulbrandsen commanded, with a view to establish fishing stations at all the islands; but this enterprise had not proved a success, for the natives, on obtaining the grant of scarlet calico and Birmingham knives, had given themselves up to fighting instead of fishing, and at more than one island the vessel herself, on her return voyage, narrowly escaped destruction at the hands of the ungrateful people. What plans Mr. Phipson had since then been carrying out, the Norwegian could not, of course, say; but at any rate it appeared that he had now on hand what he alluded to as a “ big thing.”

“ I need not remind you that you are bound to us,” said Fitzgerald, with a laugh, as they parted from Mr. Gulbrandsen.

“'Not even Mr. Phipson’s promises of fortunemaking vill cause me to forget zat I am bound to you,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen.

Before noon the next day, the Norwegian came to Tom and Fitzgerald with an expression of eagerness upon his face, which it seldom wore.

“ I have news for you—great news,” he said. “ I have had my interview vit my American friend, and I have learned vat his plans are. He told me zem all as a great secret, and only gave me permission to repeat zem to you if you vill give your vord of honour not to let zem be known outside. I know ze zing is safe vit you, so I may tell you zat Mr. Phipson is fitting out a small ship of his own to go to New Guinea and find a gold mine, vich he is quite certain must be zare, and make everybody’s fortunes. He has offered me ze post of master of ze craft.”

Tom Courtland had leaped to his feet with excitement on hearing the first part of Mr. Gulbrandsen’s story of his interview with the enterprising American; but now he resumed his seat.

“ What has this got to do with us? ” he asked.

“ Nozing vatever, if you do not see zat it has,” replied Mr. Gulbrandsen. “ I understood zat you meant to visit ze coast of New Guinea to begin vit. Now, Mr. Phipson means to try every part of ze coast to find out vat ze natives know about gold. Vy should you not go vit him so far, to make a beginning? ”

“ What! Do you fancy he would allow us to accompany him? ” cried Fitzgerald.

“ To be sure he vould. He is too much afraid just now zat you have ze same plan as himself in your minds, and zat you will be ze first to find ze gold. He need not be alarmed; neder himself nor you vill find as much gold as vould gild a fourpenny bit. Vill he take you vit him? Vy, you are just ze men he has been looking out for. He vill make you pay, you may depend on zat.”

“We would be quite prepared to bear our share of the expenses,” said Tom.

“The question is not that,” remarked Fitzgerald. “ The question is, will our going in this way be a step towards finding and rescuing Geoffrey? ”

“ I cannot answer zat,” replied the Norwegian. “ All I can say is zat you vill have a better chance of finding out somezing about him zis vay zan any oder. I told you long ago zat you may expect to pass a year vizout finding any trace of him. Vat zen matters it if you spend tree mons of ze time making sure he is not among ze savages of New Guinea? Vy, it vould take you nearly a year fitting out a ship as Mr. Phipson has fitted out his, and it vill be ready for sea in a veek.”

Tom and Fitzgerald looked at one another without speaking. Each seemed afraid to show his anxiety to jump at the proposals of Mr. Gulbrandsen.

“ I think Courtland and I had better talk over the matter to-day, and let Mr. Phipson know the result by the evening,” said Fitzgerald, at length.

“ Good,” said the Norwegian. “ You vould be fools to say ‘Yes’ at once to a zing like zis. It is too serious for all of us. Only remember zis—I am bound to you, and by you I mean to stand, vatcvcr Mr. Phipson may say.”

The instant he had left the room the two young men stocd facing one another.

“ Well? ” said Tom.

“ Well? ” said Fitzgerald.

“ Have we had a stroke of the greatest luck, or are we only playing into the hands of a clever man? ” asked Tom.

“ I think,” said the other, “ we may trust Gulbrandsen; he has always shown himself to be honest. I am strongly inclined to believe that he is our friend.”

“Then you think we should spend our time and money in this way, and not embark in an expedition of our own, as we intended? ”

“ I think we should have a better chance of success if we were to throw in our lot with the American—at any rate, it would be experience for us. We must make a beginning, Tom; and you will recollect that when first we talked over the possibility of finding Geoffrey, we considered it more likely that he should be at some part of New Guinea than anywhere else.”

“And I think so still,” said Tom, after a pause. “ Give me your hand, old boy. We will be true to one another, and side by side, we shall be able to do all that we have set out to accomplish.”

The same evening they went together to Mr. Phipson’s house, at the side of the lovely Double Bay, some miles from Port Jackson. Mr. Phipson had established himself for some years past in a charming villa, surrounded by luxuriant gardens and furnished with the mementoes of his many wanderings.

“ Gentlemen,” said Mr. Phipson, as soon as he had welcomed them to his house, “ you do me honour in accepting my proposal. You show your wisdom too; for you’ll run the business you are after at a fourth of what it should cost you. Mother of T. P. Barnum! The idea of you being able to organize such a show as this of mine! It’s out of the question, I give you my word Why, where would you go to look for an interpreter, to begin with? Do you suppose these heathen speak as correct English—I won’t say as a cockney, for they don’t speak English—but as a native of Boston, where, I opine, the boss English of creation is spoken? No, sir; every island has its own lingo, and at every bay on New Guinea a different language is the fashion. I have got a man who was a trader in mother-o’-pearl among those islands, and I reckon the native that could puzzle him would be ’cuter than that article is usually turned out of nature’s emporium.”

“ We arc fully aware of your thoughtfulness, Mr. Phipson,” said Tom, politely, as the American paused for breath.

" Sir,” replied Mr. Phipson, “ when you have knocked about the world as much as I have you’ll be kinder thoughtful too—not but what I believe you are all that, and more, already. I’ve lived among savages, and I’ve lived among people calling themselves Christians that were a good deal more sombre in moral colour than the shadiest heathen that ever sold his mother-in-law for a glass bead. Such experience is a sort of patent razor-strop to a man’s intellect; it puts the finest edge on it of anything I know. Now, my retina is clear enough to let me see what sort of lads you are, and for my yachting tour you’ll be worth your keep. When a Britisher makes up his mind to go through with a thing, he will go through with it. The British have inherited that virtue from the Amer’cans. Now, the programme of my show is this. I fit out a vessel as I think right. I steer her to whatever part of the coast of New Guinea I wish, and I go up as far into the interior as I please. If we find any traces of gold, we follow them up so far as it is prudent, and if we come across any traces of the people of the Black Swan, we follow them, and let the gold question slide until further notice. Whatever the result of the business may be, half of the expenses of the pic-nic are to be borne by you. An extra condition is that the profits of the gold claim——”

“Ven ve find it,” suggested Mr. Gulbrandsen.

“ Cert’nly not before we find it. These profits,

I say, are to be share and share alike. Is that fair enough, gentlemen? ”

“Nothing could possibly be fairer,” said Fitzgerald.

“ Then that’s all square. You believe in the gold claim, I see. Mother o’ the Medes and Prussians! to think that a thousand ton weight of solid gold has been waiting there from the foundation of the world for some one to carry it away, and people stand outside with their hands in their pockets, but not a red cent, to jingle against their keys, and won’t take the trouble to gather in that bullion! ”

“ But what reason have you for being so sure there is gold there?” asked Tom.

“You’re sworn to be secret,” said Mr. Phipson, after a pause. “ Look here! ”—he opened a small drawer in a cabinet, and extracted a box. This he unlocked, and disclosed within a piece of what was apparently stone. “ This,” he continued, his voice falling to a whisper—“this is a piece of the finest quartz that was ever crushed. Look at the yellow grains shining in it. Was there ever so beautiful an ornament? In the interior of that island there arc lumps of that studded with stars as thick as they are in the Milky Way. That piece I got from a native of one of the islands to the east of New Guinea, and I traced it to New Guinea itself. Gentle men, there’s a fortune waiting for us at the foot of one of those mountains that no white man has ever seen. A fortune, did I say? The wealth of a state—of an empire—of a hemisphere; that’s what it’s like. When you go home again, you can make Queen Victoria an offer for Ireland, if you wish. It’s not exactly the sort of speculation I’d go in for, but it may please you. Then you may ask the Lord Mayor what he’ll take for London city, and St. Paul’s Cathedral will be your private chapel. Now, maybe, you’ve a notion of what’s waiting for you in the interior of the island we are going to. That’s a fact.”

“ I am less ambitious,” said Tom. “ If I only succeed in catching sight of my brother’s face, I will be quite satisfied.”

“And you are right too, my boy,” said the American. “ Gold is good—when you’ve enough of it; but there’s something that gold cannot buy.”

CHAPTER XXI.
THE SCHOONER “PRIMROSE.”

TOM COURTLAND’S thoughts were many as the schooner Primrose, a fortnight after Mr. Phipson had made the revelation just recorded to the two young men, swept gracefully out of the harbour of Port Jackson between those mighty rocks known as the Heads. It was a lovely afternoon, and the sunshine was flooding the bright gardens of fruit trees outside Sydney. “ How many months must pass before I need expect to see such signs of civilization again! ” the boy thought. But then he reflected upon what he had set out to accomplish, and he felt very resolute indeed. Every plunge the little vessel gave through the light waves that ran into the harbour, was bringing him a step nearer the brother whom he loved and hoped to bring home in safety. This reflection filled his mind, and he could look forward with joy to that open sea towards which the schooner was speeding.

As he stood there on the deck, with the grey shore growing dimmer every moment, he fancied himself once again aboard the Little Sister a few miles off the coast at Utterport. He had often sailed out with his sister and Geoffrey through the soft summer twilight, and now, in imagination, he saw the various landmarks along the coast; and the laughter, the pleasant chat, the stories of old Peter—all the other incidents of a day gone by returned to him, and his eyes filled with natural tears as he awoke from that pleasant reverie to think how everything was changed. Geoffrey where was Geoffrey? Lying, perhaps, among the coral caves of those islands of the equator; wandering, it might be, among the tropical forests of the island towards which the Primrose was now speeding. “ And here am I hastening to share his fate,” thought the boy, but only for an instant. “ No, no! ” he cried, looking out over those broad waters; “ I have not been brought so far as this merely to perish. I will trust in God, who has kept me safe through so many dangers, I shall find my brother and bring him home with me.”

“Well, my boy,” cried Mr. Phipson, coming behind him, “are you thinking better on the subject of this voyage? Do you wish the schooner to be put about, that you may land once more into the midst of civilization as represented by the ‘nobbier’ of the colonist, or do you mean to go on to where the people are savages and whiskey has not yet made its appearance? ”

“ I mean to stand by the Primrose,” said Tom.

“ Right you are, my friend. The greatest barbarians are not to be found among the savages, but among the races that call themselves civilized. If I haven’t seen more brutality among the people that pass by the name of Christians than I’ve ever known among the heathen, my name isn’t Phineas F. Phipson, sir. Mother of Cicero! the things that I have seen! Well, we won’t talk of them.”

The Primrose was a schooner of a little over two hundred tons burden. She was like a yacht, so graceful were her lines, and so well kept was her deck. She drew very little water, which was a decided advantage, considering the nature of the enterprise on which she was now bound.

Her cargo was, for the greater part, coal; but she carried beside a large quantity of coloured calicoes, brilliant cotton handkerchiefs, and variegated beads, to say nothing of knives, small axes, and other useful implements, to form the medium of exchange with the natives. If Mr.

Phineas F. Phipson succeeded in obtaining even a single ton of the thousands of tons of the gold which, he declared, could be picked up in the unknown land to which they were sailing, the outlay he had made in these things would prove a capital investment.

The most noticeable object on the deck was a steam-launch of forty feet in length, built of teak, and of the greatest strength. For hoisting the launch to the deck of the schooner a special boom had been rigged up; and, by an invention of Mr. Phipson’s, the steam in the boiler of the launch itself was made available for performing the work of man in hoisting it aboard. The value, for exploring purposes, of such a boat, which had also a sail fore and aft, was apparent.

The armament of the Primrose consisted of a small brass swivel in the bows; a rifle was provided for each man out of the twelve who formed the crew while of course, Mr. Phipson, Tom, and P'itzgerald had their own guns and revolvers, and Mr. Gulbrandsen and his mate were not without weapons. Among the store-cabins was one of which Mr. Phipson always kept the key.

Before the schooner had been long at sea, Tom asked him what was the precious treasure that remained so carefully locked up.

“A. treasure indeed it is, my boy, when honestly used, but an accursed thing in the hands of a villain—dynamite! ”

“What on earth do we want with dynamite aboard the schooner?” asked Tom with a laugh.

"We don’t need it so long as we remain aboard, but when we come to a hill of, say, a thousand feet of quartz, like the sample I have down below, we shall need an ounce or two of that for blasting. It is just as well, however, that no one aboard except ourselves should know of the existence of this.”

"Why? ” inquired Tom. "Do you fancy that the crew would feel uneasy sleeping in the neighbourhood of that cabin?”

"My good friend,” said Mr. Phipson, laying his hand upon the boy’s shoulder, “ my experience has taught me that it’s not always safe to make even your best friend acquainted with the means by which you may be placed in his power. A man with a few cartridges of dynamite would be more than a match for the rest of the ship’s company. Take the case that you find it needful to put a man in irons for a day or two. When you take the irons off he may heave a marline-spike at you, but you look out for that, and no harm is done. But what are you to do if he comes out of that cabin and explodes half a pound or so of that tornado mixture in the fo’c’s’le?”

“I don’t think I’d feel inclined to do much just at that moment,” laughed Tom; “but, for that matter, the man himself would be forced to show an equal amount of laziness. Well, you may depend upon my not breathing a word to anyone about the contents of that cabin. I have no particular wish to encourage any one to use them against us.”

The only thing wanting to complete the furnishing of the schooner was the talking blackbird, Fitzgerald declared. He had been induced by Tom to give in to the unreasonable prejudices of the seamen who regarded with distrust any bird that was not white, and to leave Finn Mac-Coul in the charge of a lady at Sydney, who had become attached to the bird. The farewell cry of Finn, as his master parted from him, was the phrase to which they had all become well accustomed—

“Ye don’t know what’s before ye! Ye don’t know what’s before ye! ”

“ I don’t think I could stand another voyage with that cry sounding in my ears every day,” said Tom.

“Perhaps he is just as well ashore,” admitted Fitzgerald, immediately after parting from his pet. But when he had been at sea for some days, he announced that he was sorry Finn was not among the ship’s company.

“He would help to keep up our spirits,” he remarked casually to Tom one day.

“Keep up our spirits!” cried Tom. “Well, if ever I feel downhearted, I promise you I shall not make the attempt to become lively by listening to the sinister prophecies of a thing like that If you think a fellow is likely to become jocular by being constantly reminded that he doesn’t know what’s before him, you must have a curious notion of fun.”

“ Mother of Zadkiel! I’d heave that little cuss overboard the first time he tried on that game with me; you may bet your boots on that,” said Mr. Phipson.

“ I should like to have introduced him to a New Guinea forest,” said Fitzgerald, sentimentally.

“ What, a scarecrow like that? ” cried the American. “They don’t want a half-draggled blackbird where the birds of Paradise are as thick as they were in the Garden of Eden. No, sir; if you can give them anything better than they have, I’m sure they’ll thank you, but don’t offer them such specimens of Irish ornithology unless you mean to insult them.”

“There’s not a bird in New Guinea or any place else with a voice like Finn’s,” said Fitzgerald, proudly.

“That’s a fact,” admitted Mr. Phipson. “But, you see, they don’t make a speciality of their voices there; they put all the energy that might be spent in that way into their clothes. They don’t want prima donnas out there—they kinder go in for a meditative silence in the ineffable tropical forest, as some poet fellow calls it.”

“All things considered, perhaps it is quite as well that Finn has been left at Sydney, for I don’t think that any of you appreciated him,” remarked Fitzgerald.

“ That’s a fact, sir,” said the American with a good deal of emphasis, and nothing more was said on the subject of the abandonment of Finn MacCoul.

CHAPTER XXII.
THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF NEW GUINEA.

A“We’ve nothing to complain of,” said Mr. Phipson as he dropped a large lump of ice into his champagne glass. “ There’s none of us that fancied as how this trip would be as pleasant as a voyage across the Pond in a Cunarder, or that expects as how the Langham Hotel folk have been out at New Guinea, running an establishment with French cooks and German waiters, so as to make us feel at home, or rather more so, when we land. A sister of mine sent her boy on an excursion with me when I was on that mission of civilization among the pearl-fishers—for I really went out on philanthropic principles: I reckoned upon introducing a love for pantaloons among the natives, and on doing a little trading in pearls myself. Well, that show broke up pretty smart—we’ll not talk of it. But, as I was saying, a nephew of mine that had read a bit of what poets at home have written about the beauties of the tropical islands and forests—they sling their ink about too fast, these poets, for some folks actually believe their descriptions—my nephew did, and he came with me to see them, just the same as he would take a front seat at a panorama entertainment. Well, the first night we slept ashore, the ants were pretty fresh. They had never tasted white men before, and I must say they took very kindly to them. Mother o’ Captain Cook! we didn’t merely find ourselves being bitten, we could feel ourselves being gradually digested by the inseks. In the morning, the young man looked as if he had had a bad attack of the small-pox. He wanted to go home as quick as convenient.

‘ Hold on, sonny,’ said I, ‘ your uncle has introduced you to your ants, but there are a lot of other near and dear relations in the same line pining to make your acquaintance. They’re all blood relations, sonny. There’s the leeches that you’ll find if you take a stroll through the loveliest part of the landskip, they are partic’lar anxious to form an attachment to you—the most affectionate critters in the world; and then there’s half a dozen different families of the snake tribe waiting, with a patience worthy of a better object, to give you a loving squeeze.’ ‘ I never thought there were such things in one of these bright tropic isles,’ says the boy. ‘ What, didn’t your poet sing about the leeches, or the beetles, or the cockroaches, or the centipedes? No? Well, he has a heap to answer for. When you’ve been here a year or two,’ says I, ‘ you’ll find that these critters need a good deal of attention to be given to them. They’re kinder sociable things in their own way, and they do their best to produce a favourable impression upon strangers. They’ve made a good many impressions upon you, sonny, through the silent watches of the night, but we’ll rub you all over with tar when next you sleep ashore, and you won’t find matters so unpleasant.’ I spoke in kindness, but he didn’t take me up so; he said that if he was to be allowed the choice, he’d rather be chawed up by the ants than painted with the tar-brush. Anyhow, he formed a curious and unaccountable prejudice to the glories of the tropics that he hasn’t got over up to the present day. Now, any poet that devotes an epic to the mosquito will find a purchaser in me. The leech, too, is a new subjeck for poetry, and anything about them will give an outsider a better idea of a tropical island than a dozen pages about the bird of Paradise and the glorious palms.”

Mr. Phipson’s audience laughed heartily, and thanked him for having told them what they might expect.

A few nights after his harangue on the realities of life in the tropics, a terrific storm of thunder and lightning took place, the rain descended in what seemed one solid sheet of water, and the lightning flashed almost continuously. The thunder was quite unlike any the strangers had ever heard before, for it seemed to roll quite independently of the flashes of lightning; it would have been impossible to assign to each flash its own peal of thunder. The storm lasted until daybreak, and both Fitzgerald and Tom stood at the entrance to the cook’s galley watching its progress. Mr. Gulbrandsen also remained on deck, and seemed rather uneasy, for though he had the schooner laid to, she was still drifting with the current to the north.

When, at the break of day, the storm cleared off, Mr. Gulbrandsen seemed greatly relieved, and the reason of his previous anxiety became apparent, for, in the distance of the north, the outline of a coast was seen.

“Zat is ze land ve mean to make before evening,” Mr. Gulbrandsen remarked as he pointed out the coast to Tom and his friend.

“What! is that the coast of New Guinea?” cried Tom, eagerly.

“ It is ze soud-east point,” Mr. Gulbrandsen replied. “ I zink it is better to bear up for it in ze right vay zan to run on ze shore, as ve might have done through ze night. I did not feel at all easy as ve drifted so far rapidly to ze nord, but now ve are all right.”

The thoughts of both young men, as they gazed at that faint outline of the land of their desire, made them silent.

Before Tom’s eyes there rose the picture of the brother whom he loved, waiting to be delivered from the savages who surrounded him. But Fitzgerald saw a different scene. He saw the figure of a graceful girl, the girl of all his visions of beauty, waiting on the shore so many thousand miles away, for the return of the expedition that had gone forth with her blessing. How could he come before Bertha again if Geoffrey were not by his side? he asked himself. Five months had passed since they had left England, and at last they were drawing nigh the land for which they had set out; there it lay before them. Would it bring to them joy or sorrow? each of the young men asked himself, as the crew of the little vessel, whose name suggested so many memories of spring-time in their home, shook out the sails that had been stowed during the storm, and every plunge of the schooner brought them nearer that mysterious coast.

CHAPTER XXIII.
AMONG THE CANOES.

THE business of getting up steam in the launch, and preparing for a trip ashore, occupied the attention of every one aboard the Primrose. Mr. Gulbrandsen stated that he hoped to be able to anchor towards evening in a bay which he knew, at the south-east point of the island, but being crowded with small islands, it required to be approached very cautiously.

The breeze continued highly favourable, the schooner making such good progress toward the shore that soon more than the black outline of the mountains was visible. Through powerful telescopes, the vegetation in all its luxuriance on the slopes was seen, and a perfect forest of cocoa-nut palms. But when only five or six miles from shore, the breeze went down, and there was a dead calm.

The course of the current here was to the north-east, round the point of the island to which the schooner had been steering, and by this current the 'vessel was carried away from the cape. Very fortunately, Mr. Gulbrandsen declared, for had the set of the current been to the shore, the steam-launch would have been compelled to tow the schooner out to sea again.

The calm continued through the night, but just before dawn a breeze sprang up, and by noon the Primrose had regained sight of the shore, and was cautiously threading her course between the islands that studded a spacious bay, each islet being crowned with splendid cocoa-nut palms. This was Orangerie Bay, one of the most beautiful parts of the New Guinea coast.

Before the anchor had been let go at some distance from the coast, but inside the line of reefs that form a natural breakwater to the bay, a number of canoes had been seen; but they remained in sight only for a few moments, the occupants of each being apparently anxious only to escape observation. Now and again, however, Tom Courtland could see a black head peeping round some of the rocks behind which the canoes had been paddled.

He called Mr. Phipson’s attention to this, and, by the aid of his binoculars, that gentleman perceived the heads of those who were in hiding.

“They’re shy,” said he, “just a bit too shy for my taste. They’re either awful cowards or cunning savages, waiting behind those rocks in hope to cut off first our retreat and then our heads. You must remember that nearly all the natives are skull hunters. Oh, they’re great physiologists; but they won’t be able to add the cranium of an Amer’can citizen to their interesting museum! Now then, we’ll have out the launch, and see what is to be seen.”

The steam-launch was soon overboard; but at Mr. Gulbrandsen’s suggestion, no excursion was made ashore. Mr. Phipson agreed that it would be safer to allow the natives to make advances of their own accord to the schooner than to attempt to find them out ashore.

“ They may be friendly,” he said, “ but we’ll take very good care not to put their friendship to the trial all at once. If a savage is unfriendly, the least satisfactory way of finding out his tendencies is to discover that he is a good hand at slinging a spear or sending a poisoned arrow into your gizzard. What a fine country that is across the bay; and yet if we live long enough, we’ll see it parcelled off and sold in lots as building ground. Hallo! there’s a boss canoe put off from one of the islands, and others are following it. The chief of the district is evidently in the big canoe. Mother of Handel! listen to the noise they’re making! Do they call that music, I wonder? They must have remarkable theories on the subjeck. Now, where is Joey, my interpreter? ”

The man who had been engaged by Mr. Phipson for the expedition, on account of his extensive acquaintance with the various languages of the inhabitants of the New Guinea coast and of the many islands where pearl-fishing is carried on, seemed to have no other name beyond Joey. It was said that he had once been addressed as Joseph by some one desirous of paying him a certain amount of respect, but he had not answered to the name. He was very proud of his linguistic attainments, and regarded himself as a sort of chaplain to the expedition. He had at one time, unfortunately, contracted an affection for rum, which occasionally interfered with the success of the part he was anxious to play. During the entire of the day previous to sighting the coast, Mr. Phipson had not allowed him to touch his favourite beverage, and he was, consequently, in a proper condition for discharging his duties as interpreter.

The large canoe which had so fearlessly put off from one of the islands was manned by about a dozen natives. They paddled rapidly through the light ripples of the bay, all the occupants being so engaged, with the exception of one who sat quietly in the stern. He was evidently a chief, for his costume was very impressive. It consisted of a tall black silk hat of the “ chimneypot ” type and a leather belt.

“ It’s no wonder he looks dignified,” said Tom, as the canoe approached, and all aboard the schooner had got over their first laugh at the appearance of the chief.

“ If he is so dignified with a chimney-pot hat, what would he be with a pair of trousers? ” said Fitzgerald.

“ Uncomfortable, I should say,” answered Mr. Phipson. “ Pants, sir, is the token of an advanced order of civilization. It is an acquired taste.”

“ It doesn’t seem to have been acquired here, up to the present,” remarked Tom.

There was certainly ground for this assumption, for there was no garment on any of the men, either in the large canoe which headed the fleet or in one of the many that followed in the wake, the crews of which made a hideous noise, rattling large shells together and clinking pieces of very hard wood.

“There’s a splendid opening here for an industrious young musician,” said Mr. Phipson. “A brisk trade should be done in the American organ line. I wish I had brought a gross or two of concertinas with me.”

By tips time the canoes had come within a hundred yards of the Primrose. The natives ceased their music, and the gentleman with the hat shouted something in the direction of the schooner.

“Where’s Joey?” cried Mr. Phipson. “Let us see if you’re worth your salt, my bold translator. What’s that the old gentleman is shouting in the canoe? ‘ Tim, Tim! ’ There’s nobody aboard this craft of the name of Timothy.”

“It’s all right, boss,” said the interpreter. “What he wants is iron; they call it ‘dim-dim’ all along this coast.”

“ Oh, I thought, maybe, they had a friend that answered to the name of Timothy. Tell them to come alongside, and we’ll trade with them.” Joey mounted the poop and shouted a few words, at which the clanging of the wood and shells was resumed in all the canoes; but they showed no disposition to come any closer to the schooner.

“What do they mean?” asked Mr. Phipson. “ Ask them if they intend to trade, and what they mean to offer us for the dim-dim.”

“That’s too much to ask them all at once,” said the interpreter. “ Their lingo is not enough to supply words for all that.”

“ You mean your acquaintance of the language is limited,” said Mr. Phipson. “ Well, tell them to come near and have a palaver with us. Say that there’s an Amer’can citizen aboard this craft who invented the new quadruple-action-endless-thread -continuous - spindle-Hail-Columbia sewing-machine, and that the inventor of that article would scorn to take advantage of a savage in any mercantile transaction; so they needn’t fear anything.”

“ Look here, boss,” said the interpreter, “ if this sorter thing is to go on, I'm left. The situation of interpreter aboard this craft is vacant, and you can advertise for a new hand.”

“They are coming aboard!” cried Tom, excitedly, as there was a movement among the canoes, and they commenced paddling gently towards the schooner.

Tom noticed when they came under the quarter, that though neither bows nor arrows were visible, yet, from among the piles of bananas, cocoa-nuts, and yams, which lay in the bottom of almost every canoe, the handles of stone axes and spears protruded. There were also wicker shields in the canoes.

Though, when quite close to the vessel, the natives showed some further timidity and hung back, yet the display by Mr. Phipson of a large knife with a bright blade was too much for even the most retiring native. The possibility of possessing such a treasure overcame their timidity, and, raising a loud shout, or a series of shouts, that produced anything but a harmonious effect, they ran their canoes alongside, and nearly all scrambled up as best they could by the stays and over the bulwarks.

They were, for the most part, rather undersized men; but they had bright, intelligent faces, by no means of the negro type. Their noses, so far from being flat, were aquiline; and their hair was not woolly. They were far lighter in hue than any negro, and infinitely more graceful. They seemed to take it for granted that they would not be allowed to bring any arms aboard the schooner, for they stood on the deck with empty hands. The old chief only carried a curious stone hatchet—a flat, star-shaped stone, with a hole in the middle, through which the ebony handle passed. The chief was evidently greatly frightened now that he had taken so serious a step as to climb up the side of the schooner. He hung back when all the other natives were crying “ Dim-dim.”

“Tell them I’m proud to see them, Joey,” cried Mr. Phipson, “ but that I will only trade with the principal of the firm they belong to.”

Certainly Joey was a wonderful master of the language, for in three words he gave the substance of this communication, and the old chief was reluctantly brought forward, He was trembling with fear,

“ Chief,” said Mr. Phipson, “ I'm proud to meet you, and hope you are in very good health, and also that the missus—or perhaps I should say missuses—is equally salubrious.”

The old man looked, as might have been expected, more confused than ever at this address.

“Tell him I’m his brother, Joey,” suggested Mr. Phipson.

“There’s no such word as brother in their language,” said the interpreter, after a moment’s pause.

“ How’s that? ”

“The men here have no brothers. It’s a peculiarity of the neighbourhood.”

“You’re an impostor, Joey, my friend!” said Mr. Phipson. “ I believe I know as much of the language as you. Dim-dim! Look at that, sir; they understand me perfectly.”

“Dim-dim, dim-dim!” came the chorus of natives; and the old chief, at the sound of the word, became as brave as if he had been a thousand yards away from the vessel.

“ Chief,” said the American, holding out the bright knife, “it gives me great pleasure to beg your acceptance of this little present, as a specimen of Amer’can manufacture.”

The chief took the knife in evident delight, and said a few words, apparently of thanks.

“ He says you may choose which of the boys in bis village you would like to take away with you,” said Joey.

“He’s too kind,” replied Mr. Phipson. “Tell him that I’ll pay him a visit to-morrow, and see if there’s any one I take a fancy to. He may be able to give me a few hints on the matter I have in hand.”

While this exchange of compliments was going on between the chief and Mr. Phipson, the subordinate natives were still crying “dim-dim.” The desire to possess iron in some shape or form amounts almost to a passion with them. Iron is, in their eyes, the most valuable of all minerals.

“ Plenty dim-dim, when we get an equivalent for it,” said Mr. Phipson. And as this is the most frequent communication a white man makes to a native, Joey had no trouble translating it for the benefit of the crowd upon the deck.

In an instant a dozen of them had scrambled over the bulwarks into their canoes, and cocoa-nuts, cassowary feathers, and bananas were brought up. The fruits were gratefully received, but the feathers were declined.

“ It would need Sheffield itself to supply them with all they want,” remarked Mr. Phipson. “We’ll not give them any more knives or other, weapons, but we’ll give them their choice of sixpenny nails of superior make,”

CHAPTER XXIV.
FRIENDLY NATIVES.

THE natives gave no sign of bad temper so long as they remained aboard the schooner, nor did they exhibit any distrust of the crew. A few slight quarrels took place among themselves as each endeavoured to give prominence to his own fruits; but these differences were infinitely less serious than those which daily occur between rival costermongers, for not a blow was struck aboard the vessel.

As the evening darkened down, several other canoes put off from shore; for there were many villages all along the coast. It was decided, however, that not only were no other natives to be allowed aboard, but those already on the deck were to clear off before it was dark.

The men in the canoes that had just put off were evidently greatly disappointed when they found they would not be allowed aboard, and there was also much difficulty explaining to those who had completed their trading transactions, that they must now leave the vessel. They pretended not to understand the signs that were made to them to go over the side; but Mr. Phipson was reluctant to use force with them.

Mr. Gulbrandsen, however, had been watching with a smile the wiles of the natives. He went to the forepart of the schooner, where, in the signal-locker, was placed one of those enormous fog-horns called sirens, which are sounded by means of bellows. He put this instrument of ear-torture in motion, and there arose a succession of the unearthly sounds it is capable of producing. The sounds went through the ship, and were echoed along the shore for miles. The effect they produced upon all the visitors was marvellous. With shrieks of fear they all went helter-skelter over the side and into their canoes. The chief being foremost in the rush, his tall hat, knocking against a spar, fell into the water, and floated about in a helpless way; for the canoes were too anxious to reach the shore to wait and pick up this insignia of royalty, though the old man wept loudly, imploring those at the paddles to wait until he could recover his treasure.

The crew of the Primrose were convulsed with laughter at this incident; but Tom ran for a boathook, and succeeded in fishing up the hat, though doubtless with some injury to whatever nap still remained on it. He held up the article, shouting to the canoe in which the owner was seated; but apparently the tears of the chief were disregarded by his crew, for they did not relax their efforts at the paddles until they had reached the shore.

" Poor old boy! ” said Tom; “ he will be certain to catch cold through the night wanting his hat.”

“It strikes me,” remarked Mr. Phipson, “that any savage that has gone for half a century without a hat will not suffer through the want of that article for a single night.”

“It’s quite as well he did not get it,” said Fitzgerald. “ He might have been tempted to put it on his head without drying it sufficiently, and in that case the consequences would certainly be serious.”

“ We shall bring it to him in state to morrow,” said Mr. Phipson. “ If these are specimens of the native population of the island, I reckon we needn’t fear much from them. Our cruise will be a kinder picnic excursion. They seemed a deal more afraid of us than anxious to attack us. I didn’t like to say anything to the chief about our prospects in his neighbourhood, but I will to-morrow. Mother of the Rothschilds! if gold prospectors ever come this way, they will change the character of these harmless creatures considerably."

“ Then let us hope that they will remain away for a long time still," said Tom, mischievously.

“So says all of us!" cried Mr. Phipson. “We don’t want gold prospectors here: we can work our own claim."

“And we shall—when it turns up," said Fitzgerald.

“ The labour market in this island is overstocked at present," said the American. “ The men about here have nothing to do but lie in the sun and watch their bananas and yams growing about them. Now, doesn’t it seem as if nature had decreed that there should be a gold streak somewhere among those hills? If it was for nothing else than to give those fine healthy fellows employment, it would be worth nature’s while to run a seam of gold through those everlasting hills. I tell you that in confidence, my lads.”

“ What a pity you had not the reconstructing of the geology of the island! ” said Fitzgerald.

“ I don’t know that I’d make it different from what it is at present,” said Mr. Phipson, thoughtfully, as if considering the possibility of effecting improvements in some direction. “ No, I don’t believe that I’d make many changes—that is, provided my surmise about the precious metal turns out to be correct.”

“ Ze question zat I am zinkingover is, vare did ze chief pick up zat hat of his,” remarked Mr. Gulbrandsen.

“What! do you think it likely that some other gold prospector has been in this neighbourhood before now?” cried Mr. Phipson.

“ Zey don’t as a rule vear silk hats,” remarked the Norwegian.

“ Not reg’lar, certainly. But the fact of that old man wearing such a scalp-cover has set me thinking what I should do if I were to find another white man on the track of the gold.” “What would you do?” asked Tom.

“ Well, I reckon I’d dispose of all my cutlery at a sacrifice to the native population,” replied Mr. Phipson.

“ Suggesting to them the advisability of using it in a certain direction? ”

“ No, sir; I would require to suggest nothing. The native mind knows, without any suggestion being needed, how to use these articles of commerce to the best advantage.”

That night the whole party of explorers aboard the Primrose sat together, chatting as they had done in the evening. But when Mr. Phipson had retired to his berth, Tom and Fitzgerald remained leaning over the bulwarks, looking at the island, but without exchanging a word. Each knew what was in the thoughts of the other.

There lay the dim mysterious land that no civilized man had penetrated deeper than a few miles from the coast. There was no light to be seen on any part of the bay; if any were shining, the mists that rose above the clump of palms and spread like a gauze veil over all the coast and the many islands effectually hid it. The only sound that came to the schooner was that of the waves breaking upon the shore. As they stood there, looking into the mysterious dimness that lay over the land, each was thinking if the mystery which they had come to unravel would yield to their search as easily as the island mists would yield to the morning light, at whose silvery touch all shadows flee away.

CHAPTER XXV.
A DAY ON THE ISLAND.

SHORTLY after dawn, the Primrose company were aroused by the cries that came from the natives aboard the many canoes which stood off at a respectful distance from the schooner; for, apparently, they were not anxious for another demonstration of the force of the “ siren’s ” voice.

“Don’t let them come aboard until we have had breakfast,” said Mr. Phipson to the mate who was on deck.

“All right, sir,” said the mate. “We’ll not be hard pushed to keep them a good cable’s length off our quarter.”

“ There’s no use allowing them to have the impression that the schooner is a free institution,” said Mr. Phipson, as he sat down to breakfast. “ These bananas are prime, however, so that it won’t do to break off our friendly relations with the old chief and his followers.”

On coming on deck after breakfast, they found the chief in his big canoe, engaged, at a distance of about a hundred yards, in an animated conversation with Joey, the interpreter.

“ He wants to know if he can depend upon his hat being given back to him,” said the interpreter. “ I told him that I reckoned you would want a canoe full of fruit before you would give it back to him. He says he’ll give you whatever you ask for it, as it has been an heirloom in his family for the past five years.” “Is that all?” asked Mr. Phipson,sarcastically. “ That’s all; except that he swears he won’t come on deck until you make him sure that the big dog won’t bark any more.”

“ What big dog does he allude to? ”

“ I reckon he took the sound of the fog-horn for the barking of a dog,” said the interpreter.

“ And you told him it wasn’t? ”

“Just the opposite, boss. I gave him to understand that the critter he heard was the baby whine of one of the pups; but that we had the father and the mother aboard, as well as a numerous family of the same breed.”

“Well,” said the American, “we’ll get up a name for veracity among these benighted heathen that centuries will fail to eradicate. They’ll think that I am running a menagerie through the islands of the South Pacific, Now* you linguistic impostor, tell that confiding and credulous old gentleman that you apologize for having taken him in, or I’ll throw you overboard.”

“There ain’t no such word as apologize in their lingo,” said Joey, with a grin.

“I thought not,” said Mr. Phipson. “Well, maybe you know enough to be able to tell the chief that his hat is quite dry, and he can have it on making application in person, and paying the expenses of the advertisement in the morning papers. I reckon you’ll have difficulty translating ‘ morning newspaper ’ into the vernacular.”

After some exchange of words, the canoe, bearing the old chief in the bows, was slowly brought alongside the schooner; and it was thought to be only in keeping with his dignity to lower the companion for his ascent to the deck. He was greatly struck with the contrivance of steps, though (like the man who got into one of the old Sedan chairs, the bottom of which had fallen out, compelling him to keep pace with the bearers), except for the honour of the thing, he might as well have been without it. The chief would certainly have preferred climbing up the side by the stays to trusting his weight to the steps; but he evidently felt proud of his achievement when he reached the deck.

“How do you do this morning, sir? Hope you have passed a good night,” remarked Mr. Phipson, gracefully discharging the duties of host.

The chief smiled, and spoke a few words, apparently in return.

“ He says he wants his hat,” said Joey.

“And he shall have it,” said Mr. Phipson, going to the cook’s galley, where the hat had been hanging to dry, and returning with the treasure in his hand. “I reckon it will be nothing the worse for the wash,” he remarked; “ and the nap was too far gone fifteen years ago to make it worth anything, except as the crowning piece of a scarecrow.”

The chief wept tears of joy on holding his treasure once more in his hands. He would not put it on his head again for fear of another accident, but kept hugging it. Then he ran over to the side of the ship, and shouted down to the men in his canoe. In a few moments half a dozen of them had clambered to the deck, bearing a large variety of bird-skins, including many splendid specimens of the bird of Paradise. They also brought up leaves sewed together, and containing fruits and cocoa-nuts.

“Tell him that I will pay for all of these,” said Mr. Phipson.

On the interpreter making known this intention, the chief did not manifest any displeasure at his gift being regarded in the light of a commercial transaction; on the contrary, he displayed the liveliest satisfaction, and also threw out a suggestion that any further contribution of dim-dim would be gratefully received, and by no means regarded in the light of an insult.

A few scraps of old iron—rusty hinges, bits of broken locks, and useless keys—were transferred to the chief and his followers, and then preparations were made for going ashore. The chief offered to supply a crew to paddle the steam-launch—which was alluded to as the big canoe—to the shore; and when it was explained to him that the big canoe did not require any paddlers, he asked if it was alive, and suggested that it was the animal whose barking had frightened away the natives on the previous evening.

“Don’t tell him too much, Joey,” said Mr. Phipson.

“No danger of that,” said Joey, shrewdly. “All the truth he gets out of me will be of no practical use to him. At any rate, he won't be able to rig out a steam-launch from my hints.”

Mr. Phipson, with Tom and Fitzgerald, and four men, beside the engineer and Joey, all well armed with rifles and revolvers, got into the launch. They invited the chief to accompany them; but he declined, saying that his men could paddle a good deal faster than the “live canoe” could swim ashore.

Mr. Phipson smiled as he gave the order to let go the painter of the launch, when the canoe with the chief in the stern had gone some hundreds of yards towards the shore. The engine began to puff and the propeller to revolve. With loud shouts the crew of the canoe paddled madly on, but it is unnecessary to say that the little steamer was in a few minutes within twenty yards of its rival.

Seeing, however, that the natives had ceased rowing, and were giving indications of a desire to leap overboard, the course of the launch was altered, and it steered off from the canoe. The men after a while resumed their paddles, and the old chief tried to look as if he was not in the least degree afraid of the approach of the launch, but, in fact, rather liked the idea of being followed by such a craft.

A good deal of caution was, of course, displayed in navigating the little steamer among the islands, lest it might run upon a hidden rock. By following the course of the canoe, however, and occasionally sounding, all danger was avoided.

The boats did not land upon the beach, but ran up a narrow lagoon for some distance, thus frightening away a number of women and children who were splashing about as if they liked the water. They fled to the village, which was only a short way above the shore, and not all the persuasive words of the chief succeeded in bringing them back.

The launch anchored in the middle of the lagoon when its passengers had landed. It was left in charge of the engineer and two men, with instructions that the natives were to be kept at a safe distance by means of the steam-whistle only. If assistance were needed, a signal was to be given by the same means.

The village consisted of a number of houses barely four feet high as to their walls, but with conical roofs made of woven fibre, and occasionally of basket-work, which made them look considerably higher.

From the low doors a number of women were creeping, all wearing aprons of a grassy fibre that hung down to their knees, and gave them the appearance of being substantially clothed. They were, like the men, of a far lighter tint than any negroes Tom Courtland had ever seen; they were, in fact, the colour of a fabric that has been unsuccessfully dyed black, or of the writing on a piece of parchment that has lain in a musty drawer for many years.

They were well shaped, and of a pleasing, intelligent expression.

It somewhat surprised the party from the Primrose to find the villagers offering to them for sale, not so many fruits as they did bird-skins and feathers of the cassowary. One young man also came forward with a number of insects of curious shape, wrapped up in leaves; and another hastened up with a quantity of ornaments strung upon several strands of stout fibre. It was not until late in the day that Tom discovered that these ornaments were human jaw-bones, which are highly esteemed by the natives as bracelets.

“ Ask them why they have brought us these things,” said Mr. Phipson to Joey.

The question was put in due course; and the reply was that they thought all white men came to the bay for the purpose of collecting birds and insects.

“I guessed that we were not the first white men they had met,” said Mr. Phipson. “Ask them if a white man has been among them lately.”

“ That is a question I was anxious to put to them long ago,” said Tom.

The chief answered, that twice previously European vessels had come into the bay; they never remained longer than a few hours, and they had bought bananas and other fruits from the natives.

“Ask him how long it is since the last ship was in the bay,” said Tom.

The interpreter, after a considerable parley, and an exchange of signs—for Joey was not so accomplished a linguist as to disdain eking out his vocabulary by pantomimic gestures, —now said that, so far as he could make out, a ship had been off the coast quite recently, and that it had not been engaged in the trade of fishing for mother-of-pearl.

Another short conversation followed, and then the interpreter stated that the chief had told him that a short time ago a white man had come ashore in a ship’s boat, and was still on the island, not more than a few hours’ journey from the village.

Both Tom and Fitzgerald were greatly struck by this news. They asked the interpreter to get the chief to describe this stranger. But a detailed description was certainly not in the line of one of these men, however intelligent they might be in other ways; all the chief could say was that the stranger was white, and very like Tom in appearance. The boy, knowing how great was the resemblance between himself and his missing brother, was still further impressed by this.

“ Could it be possible,” he asked himself, “ that the man referred to was Geoffrey? that the object of the expedition would be accomplished with so little trouble? ”

“ I shall go to him,” he cried. “ If he is only such a short distance away, I can go to him alone. There can be no danger; the natives are all friendly.”

“ You will do nothing of the kind, my boy,” said Mr. Phipson. “You needn’t think for a moment that this stranger is your brother. If he was, why on earth should he leave the coast and go inland? Don’t you rather think he would find it to be to his advantage to remain as near to the coast as possible, to attract the attention of any ship that might chance to pass close enough to the shore to sec a signal? What on earth would be the sense of going inland? ”

“ But he says the stranger resembles me in appearance, and, as I mentioned to you long ago, the likeness between my brother and myself is remarkable.”

“ You mean that it was remarkable,” said Mr. Phipson. “ Do you fancy that there’s the slightest resemblance between you now? No, my boy; don’t you believe it. Do you think a man that had been cast among savages, as we suppose—taking the best view of the case possible —your brother has been, remains unchanged in appearance at the end of eight or ten months?

You are not so foolish. Our gallant chief there may be a decent enough sort of gentleman at home, but a white man with him is a white man, and nothing more. Why, you yourself have seen niggers in plenty; but I don’t believe you could notice a difference between any two of them any more than you could between two sheep.”

“ But surely the incident of a white man being here is worth taking notice of?” said Tom.

“ Certainly it is,” replied Mr. Phipson. “ Now, you take due notice of it by writing a few lines on a piece of paper, and sending it by a messenger to the stranger who has such very peculiar tastes that he prefers being out of humanity’s reach, as the poet says, to being in a place where he would at least run some chance of meeting a fellow-man. If he thinks it worth his while, he will pay a visit to the coast in reply; but if he is the sort of man I suppose, he will send you a post-card to say that he’s laid up with a fever, or, maybe, the small-pox — the first would keep him from going to see you, and the second would keep you from going to see him.”

“What sort of man do you suppose him to be?”

“A convict escaped from one of the French settlements in these waters; only such a man,

I fancy, would be fool enough to leave the vessel that he arrived in and hurry up to the forests.”

“We shall soon learn all,” said Tom, tearing a leaf out of the pocket-book he always carried, and writing upon it the following words:—

“ Tom Courtland, in search of his brother Geoffrey, at one time a passenger on board the‘Black Swan,’ is in the schooner ‘ Primrose’ now in the bay, and would be glad to receive any news regarding the object of his search.”

The old chief appeared to know at what village the strange white visitor was to be found, and in consideration of receiving a pocket-knife with a cast-iron blade—a good sample of the negotiable goods with which Mr. Phipson had laden the schooner for trade with the islanders— a messenger was soon found who promised to deliver the letter and to wait for a reply. Only a positive assurance had to be given both to the chief and his followers that the letter contained nothing magical. The process of writing was watched by the multitude with the greatest interest. They could not help suspecting that it was, somehow, intimately associated with a charm.

But their wonder was infinitely greater when, in walking outside the shade of the trees, Mr. Phipson opened a big white umbrella. The act created nearly as much consternation as the sounding of the fog-horn; with shouts from the men and shrieks from the women and bawls from the children, the whole of the admiring crowd fled in every direction.

“Why, what on airth is the matter with the critters?” said Mr. Phipson, wonderingly. “Is there a snake anywhere about, or is it an impromptu race for the championship of the island that they have got up? ”

“It’s the gingham, boss,” said Joey. “They think there’s magic in it as well as in the paper with the writing on it.”

“ Why, we seem to have come into the midst of a seminary for grown-up boys and girls,” said Mr. Phipson, lowering his umbrella, at which there were shouts of joy, and the natives once more approached, the chief with his hat off and tucked under one of his arms, in case an accident might again deprive him of it.

The chief said a few words to Joey, which caused that invaluable person to burst into a fit of laughter.

“ What are you smiling at so loudly, my polyglot dictionary? ” asked Mr. Thipson.

“ I reckon you’d smile too, boss, if you knew what the old bloke says! ” cried the interpreter, when he had partially recovered himself.

“ What does he say that’s so funny? ”

“ He says that he thought you were spreading your wings and going to fly away.”

“ He’s too complimentary, that old gentleman,” said Mr. Phipson. “They took me for a newspecies of cassowary, I suppose. Let them come near, and I’ll explain the whole mechanism to them.”

The chief was scarcely reassured when the umbrella was opened gently in his presence and beneath his immediate observation. It was a long time before he could be brought to touch it; and when at last he found himself with it open in his hands, he kept hopping about, holding it high above his head; he was evidently under the impression that he should be able to fly with so capacious a system of wings. His bravery in holding the open umbrella evidently produced a deep impression upon his followers. He seemed to be well aware of this, and stood with the dreaded machine high above his tall hat, as if it were a standard by which he was urging his friends on to victory. He was such a comical sight in this attitude, that not merely Joey, but all the visitors were convulsed. The old man appeared to be more pleased at the effect produced upon the visitors than at the impression created upon his own people. He laughed and nodded and jumped about, until Mr. Phipson took the umbrella once more into his own possession, saying—

“ Ladies and gentlemen, this performance must now cease; those who are not satisfied with the entertainment will have their money returned at the doors.”

Later in the day, Mr. Phipson desired the interpreter to say to the chief that he wished to have a chat with him alone, and apart from his followers. The chief appeared to have now acquired unlimited confidence in his visitors, for he did not hesitate one moment before acceding to this request.

Mr. Phipson, with Tom, Fitzgerald, and Joey, walked together in state to a group of cocoa-nut palms about a hundred yards from the village. It is unnecessary to say that some hundreds of the natives set out for the same place also, but the chief shouted some words to them, and they all hung back.

“ Now, Joey, my lad,” said Mr. Phipson, taking out of his pocket the piece of quartz which Tom and Fitzgerald had seen at his house at Sydney, “ask the gallant chief if he has ever seen any rocks the same as this knocking about his kingdom. Tell him to examine it so that there can be no mistake in the matter.”

The interpreter translated the prospects request to the chief, and the old gentleman took the piece of quartz, smiled, and said a few words to Joey.

“What does he say?” cried Mr. Phipson, unable to conceal his eagerness.

“He says he can give you as many stones the same as this as you can carry away in the schooner.”

“What! Mother of Julius Caesar! Does he know what he is talking about? Does he know that he is saying the words that condemn his race to extermination? ”

“No, I reckon he doesn’t look at the matter in that light. He hasn’t had enough experience of white men to know what they are. He says he’ll take you to where the stones may be found.”

“ I’ll follow him, never fear, as all the world will follow us,” said Mr. Phipson. Then, turning to Tom and Fitzgerald, he cried—“ Gentlemen, you have a share in this discovery—one of the greatest discoveries of the age—one that is calculated to revolutionize this hemisphere as only gold can. Lead on, my chief; you’ll have a percentage on the profits of this concern when it’s in full working order. Tell him he’ll have a percentage, Joey.”

“There ain’t no such word as percentage in their dialeck,” said Joey.

“Of course not,” said Mr. Phipson. “Percentages and civilization go hand in hand. I don’t suppose they have either a daily newspaper here or a bankruptcy court, or any of the other blessings of civilization. Never mind, there’s a good time coming, for if we find the gold, all these institutions will take root nat’ral like, and alongside them a gaol will spring up and do a thriving trade, you may swear.”

“ When you’ve dried up speechifying, boss, maybe you’ll come with the gent and his hat, to have a look at the cargo he says is waiting for you.”

“I will, Joey,” said Mr. Phipson. “We’ll all go along together.”

The chief exhibited more courage than his visitors had given him credit for possessing, in leading them out of sight of his own people. Pie brought them round by a grove of cultivated bananas, to where the ground sloped downward to the bed of a tiny river, naturally paved with pebbles.

He stood on the bank and triumphantly pointed down to the river bed, saying a few words.

“ Pic says the stones arc there,” remarked the interpreter.

Mr. Phipson glanced for a moment at the place indicated, then he jumped down and gave the loose pebbles a few contemptuous kicks.

“ What does he mean? ” he cried. “ There’s not as much quartz about here as would gild the point of a toothpick. These are common pebbles”

“ I reckon they’re about all you’re going to get here,” said Joey.

“ Explain to the chief that the stones we want must be the same in formation as this—that it won’t do to be common rock like these. Does he fancy we came some thousands of miles for stone ballast for macadamizing a road? Translate that to him.”

“ There ain’t no such word as macadamizing in the dialeck,” said Joey, placidly, taking a piece of tobacco out of his pocket and transferring it to his mouth.

The chief seemed to understand that the result of his guidance had not been a complete success, for he gesticulated freely in the direction of the river bed, speaking with great vehemence.

“ This meeting had better adjourn,” remarked the interpreter. “The gentleman with the hat says the stones down there are exactly the same as the sample you brought him, and he can do nothing better for you. They have no other stones in the country, and if you don’t like the crop he says you may leave it.”

“ Come along,” said Mr. Phipson. “ The gallant chief is a gallant fool. The sooner we get back to the schooner the better it will be for all parties concerned in this business.”

Tom and Fitzgerald, who had been standing by unconcerned during this interview, now burst out laughing.

“What about the percentage on the earnings of the gold mine?” cried Tom. “Don’t you think the original proprietor is on the fair way to become a millionnaire? ”

“ The natives are going to be allowed one more chance before the process of extermination commences,” laughed Fitzgerald.

“Well,” said Mr. Phipson, “ I can’t for the life of me see where the joke lies. I’ve been doing the best I can to make the fortune of the lot of you, and to civilize these heathen, and yet at the outset I am jeered at as if I wasn’t a real philanthropist. Why, you are more ungrateful than the heathen themselves. Now, who on airth is this coming our way? ”

His last remark had reference to the appearance of a stranger—a European, but one whom it would be absurd to term a white man, seeing that his face was so bronzed as to be almost as dark as the features of the natives. He wore top boots and a cork helmet, and he carried a double-barrelled rifle on his shoulder.

In an instant Tom’s heart sank; this stranger was, he knew, the European who had been referred to by the natives as one who had come ashore from a vessel, and gone some distance inland. He bore no resemblance to Geoffrey.

The stranger smiled and touched his helmet when he met the others.

“ Gentlemen,” he said, with a German accent, “ I greet you. I saw from my station on the hill the arrival of your vessel. I am Dr. Portheim, a naturalist.”

“We are proud to meet you, sir,” said Mr. Phipson. “ My name is Phineas F. Phipson, late of New York city, but now of Port Jackson, these are my friends, Mr. Fitzgerald, of Ireland, and Mr. Courtland, of England. We hope you are enjoying good health in these queer quarters.”

“ Capital health, except for an attack of fever twice a week or so,” answered the German.

“ Oh, indeed! Nothing worse, I hope? ”

“ Nothing, thank you. Are you brother naturalists with me? ”

“ Well, not exactly, sir; we go in for the geology branch just now.”

“Ah, very interesting indeed,” said Dr. Portheim. “ I have been for the past four months in a small house I built for myself at the side of the forest on the hill, and I am happy to foil you that I am making an excellent collection.

I was startled by the sound of your fog-horn last evening, and I determined to give myself a holiday to come down and beg from you some tea—my own stock got wet during a thunderstorm that levelled my habitation—and also some corrosive sublimate; as I am getting through my own store so rapidly, I fear it will be used before the ship arrives, in three more months, with fresh supplies.”

“ If you come aboard my schooner, doctor, I’ll give you as much tea as will last you, at a reasonable rate of consumption, for a year,” said Mr. Phipson. “ But unless you give the other composition an easier name, I’m afraid you’ll have to go without it so far as we are concerned. We can give you soda-water or kali, if that’s any use to you; and I’ll order the steward to show you how he compounds a favourite drink of ours known by the name of ‘ primrose zephyr,’ but further than that I can’t promise.”

The German laughed and thanked Mr. Phipson, but said that he greatly feared that the acquaintance with this beverage would not assist him in his work of preparing bird-skins. He, however, accepted Mr. Phipson’s invitation to dine aboard the schooner; and, accordingly, saying farewell to the chief and his people, the party embarked in the steam-launch, and, followed by qll the canoes from the villages for many miles round the coast, a course was steered for the schooner.

Dr. Portheim described his daily life on the island, shooting rare birds, and collecting insects. He was evidently an enthusiastic naturalist, and he said he was looking forward to a residence of several months in other parts of the island, and did not mean to return to his home for eight years.

After dinner—the first civilized meal that the doctor had partaken of for four months—Mr. Phipson thought he might venture to take the German into his confidence. He produced the piece of quartz, and handed it to him without a word.”

“/This,” said the German, “is no doubt a specimen of one of the geological formations in which you are interested.”

“ Interested! rather! ” replied Mr. Phipson. “ All the world is interested in that geological formation. Do you know what it is, doctor? ”

“ It looks like a piece of quartz.”

“You have guessed right, sir. Now, maybe, you can understand how it is we have taken all this trouble to fit out the schooner and come on a cruise to this out-of-the-way place.”

“ I cannot see,” replied the naturalist.

“ What! can’t you see that we are searching for this—this that will make all our fortunes? Now, sir ”—here his voice sunk to a whisper— “ now, sir, the man that discovers a seam of gold in that island will be entitled to a share in its working; so, if you have had your eyes about you up the hills there, and have been ahead of us in this enterprise, just let us know, and we’ll sign an agreement to work the claim and give you the share you’re entitled to. We’ll deal square with you, never fear. You may tell us without suspicion if you have come across anything of this sort.”

“ It would please me much to be able to tell you anything of this,” said the doctor; “but you see, I have not been a geologist. If I came upon a mountain of this quartz I should not ask, ‘ Is there gold here? ’ but, ‘ Is there any new reptile? Do its crusts conceal any bird not yet known to the civilized world? ’ ”

“ Reptiles! birds! while there’s a hundred million of five-dollar pieces waiting under your feet? I never heard of such a notion.” Mr. Phipson could scarcely comprehend how a human being like this could exist—a man who would value the discovery of a reptile—maybe a poisonous one—more highly than a seam of gold, was a phenomenon indeed.

“ I hope, Doctor Porthcim, that you have succeeded as well with your collection as you anticipated when you landed first,” said Fitzgerald, while Mr. Phipson was doing his best to solve the problem suggested by the statement of the naturalist.

“My friend,” said the doctor, proudly, and with sparkling eyes, “ I have discovered an entirely new bird of Paradise.”

“Is it possible!” cried Fitzgerald. “I congratulate you with all my heart.”

“ But I have not completed my researches yet,” said the naturalist. “ I have heard of a particular beetle, of which I hope to obtain specimens in the course of a month or two. I have been keeping watch for him every night for hours through the loneliness.”

“ I trust your patience may be rewarded,” said Fitzgerald.

“ Well,” said Mr. Phipson, “ it’s a curious taste for a grown man to hunt butterflies and beetles and outlandish reptiles that make you feel creepy to look at. But if you choose to combine business with pleasure, just look about whenever you find yourself in a strange place, for a formation with quartz in it, and drop me a post-card to Sydney; I’ll do the prospecting and working for you, and you may depend on receiving your share of the profits. There’s gold on that island, and plenty of it too, or my name’s not Phineas F. Phipson.”

In the evening, the naturalist, having obtained fresh supplies of tea and other delicacies which the good-natured Mr. Phipson forced upon him, went ashore in the steam-launch; and the natives, who had been once more allowed upon the deck of the schooner, were requested to return to their canoes. The anchor was weighed, and, by the aid of a gentle breeze from the west, the Primrose sailed out of Orangerie Bay, the old chief saying farewell in his own fashion, holding the precious hat in his arms in case of accident. His canoe accompanied the schooner for some distance, and the crew of the vessel gave the old gentleman a hearty cheer as the sails began to draw and the native craft was left behind.

“ Thus ends the first step towards our goal,” said Tom, turning away from the stern, over which he had been gazing to the shore with its silent groups of palms and broad-leaved bananas.

“Towards our goal—towards our gold," said Mr. Phipson.

CHAPTER XXVI.
A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

IT was Tom’s wish that the schooner should sail round the south-east headland, and visit the north coast of the island in search of information regarding the Black Swan, for he had come to the conclusion that any boat which might part from a foundering ship in the latitude assigned to the disaster of the Black Swan would make for the north-east coast. Mr. Phipson had, however, made up his mind to adopt another course, and had given orders to sail along the coast to the westward, intending to touch at every place where there would be a likelihood of obtaining information on the object of the expedition, so far as he was concerned; for he had almost forgotten that his friends aboard the Primrose had another object in view, apart from the discovery of gold.

“Do not mind zat he has given ze order to coast to ze vestvard,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen confidentially to the young men.

“ Why should we not mind? ” asked Tom. “ I Ie is intent only on carrying out that wild theory of his respecting the gold, and does not think that every hour we fritter away reduces the chances of my brother’s safety.”

“Let me tell you,” cried the Norwegian quickly, “you have just as much chance of getting news of ze Black Swan and her boats by going to ze vest, as you vould have by going to ze east. Unless ze captain of zat ship vas a fool, he vould not take his boat to ze nord coast at all, but vould run for ze Australian cape, or some place vare he vould know he vould have a chance of being picked up and carried to a place of safety.”

“ But if he had done so we would have heard from him months ago,” said Tom.

“Yes, zat is true; but as ze ship has not been heard of, vat do you conclude? Vy, simply zat ze ship or ze boat has tried to make for Cape York, but has been carried troo ze Strait by ze current and cast upon one of ze islands or on some part of ze soud coast. Besides,” he added, “zare are missionaries and native teachers all along here, and zay vould be able to give ze best news as to vedder or not ze ship, or a boat belonging to her, had been seen at any part of ze coast”

Tom saw the value of all the Norwegian said, and ceased to grumble at the course which Mr. Phipson had decided to pursue.

Four days had passed since leaving Orangerie Bay, and the little schooner had been sailing westward under the influence of a light breeze, the high mountain-range of the island only occasionally coming in view, when, early one morning, all on the deck became conscious of the most exquisite perfume of flowers and leaves borne to them over the still water. In the distance, a light mist was clinging to the land, hiding it from view, but when, with the morning sun, this cloud-veil was lifted and dispersed over the sky, before the eyes of all on the schooner there appeared through the clear atmosphere the green slopes of Yule Island—one of the largest of the many islands lying between New Guinea and the coast of Australia.

Approaching the island very cautiously, and sounding with the lead at short intervals, the Primrose was not within the enclosure of the coral reef that stretches almost directly across the bay until some hours had passed. For want of wind, the schooner could not make the anchorage, so the steam-launch was called into requisition to tow her in the direction indicated by Mr. Gulbrandsen. The vessel was brought round the island to the west, and then sharply to the nor’-nor’-east. In seven fathoms, where the water was clear and unruffled, except by a light current that set round the coast of the bay, the anchor was let go.

The anchorage was not more than a quarter of a mile from the shore, where could be seen several of the native huts, built at the border of a well-kept plantation of bananas. On the beach were several canoes, but none, as at Orangerie Bay, came out to welcome or to trade with the schooner.

Joey, the interpreter, who had been at the island in previous years, confessed his surprise at the absence of natives. He declared that the inhabitants of this place were about the most civilized to be found on any part of the coast. The steam-launch, however, soon conveyed a party ashore, well supplied with all the elements of trading—glass beads, knives of the ordinary type, made for the purposes of trade rather than for work, and gaudy printed fabrics that rivalled the birds of Paradise in brilliancy.

On landing at a convenient spot, the party from the Primrose noticed a few natives moving about the plantation, but these were chiefly women, most of whom carried babies slung in nets on their backs, with a suspending cord or brace passed round their foreheads. On a closer approach, it was seen that they had their faces and part of their bodies painted, or rather daubed, with black; their skin was quite light enough to make this artificial colouring apparent.

“ What’s the meaning of this strange shyness on the part of natives in this locality? ” inquired Mr. Phipson. “It never occurred to me that backwardness was the main characteristic of any of the people living in these seas. Are the men, do you think, lying about that plantation with spears and tomahawks, and those clubs that they wield with such skill and dexterity? ”

“ I don’t know what to make of them,” said Joey. “ Maybe, the men are away on a hunting expedition, and have left the women in sole charge, though, as a rule, the women go with their nearest and dearest on these expeditions.” “ What is the meaning of the daubs of paint on the women? ” Tom asked.

“ It’s their mourning dress, I believe,” replied the interpreter. “ But whatever it is, we’d best keep our revolvers handy, and not go too close to the village for a while, at any rate.”

Keeping well out of the range of any possible spears that might be thrown from an ambush, the strangers advanced toward the village, which was built upon poles about four feet above the ground. The women stood together watching them, and some small pigs and wretched dogs formed a part of the group of observers.

“ Show a yard or two of calico and a string of beads,” said Mr. Phipson. “You’ll find that will bring some of these women closer; the female mind is the same all the world over.”

The interpreter advanced, displaying his wares like a pedlar anxious to do business, and speaking a few words either of friendliness or in recommendation of the calico.

At these words the native women advanced boldly, and, in line with them, the pigs and the puppies, the latter assuming a position of armed neutrality.

“ Tell them we’re ready to trade if we can do so on a satisfactory basis,” said Mr. Phipson. “ But first ask them why their husbands don’t appear; say that we only like doing business with the heads of firms.”

“I'll do my best,” said Joey, and he forthwith opened conversation with the women; though he used so many signs, it was evident that he was very imperfectly acquainted'with their dialect. The women replied, also making use of pantomime to a large extent.

“ This island has been the scene of a desperate tragedy,” said Joey. “The women are all in mourning for their husbands, or sons, or brothers, who have been either killed on the spot or carried away by a powerful tribe of warriors and headhunters from the interior of New Guinea. They came in big war-rafts, the women say, and they had evidently been on a head-hunting tour round the coast, for one of the rafts was laden with the trophies of their victims.”

“That is a nice state of affairs,” said Mr. Phipson. “ What a pity we didn’t arrive sooner; we could have put a pretty sudden stop to the head-hunting trade.”

“But surely all the men could not have been slain by these pirates? ” said Tom.

“ All that escaped made tracks to the woods upon the hill,” replied Joey, after putting the inquiry to the natives.

“This is a bad business, indeed,” said Mr. Phipson. “ Give each of the women half a dozen yards of the most scarlet of all the prints, Joey, and tell them that we’ll go with them to the village. Who knows but what a piece of quartz the size of a cliff may be lying about some of the huts? It’s no use trying to do our prospecting on any system here.”

“Yes,” said Fitzgerald, “the quartz may be on the chimney-piece, or a bracket, or the grand-piano.”

The women expressed themselves delighted with the calico, and said they would give some fruit in exchange.

“Good; but we’ll keep our hands on our revolvers all the same,” said Mr. Phipson.

The little party advanced, the women, with the children slung on their backs, going first.

The huts comprising the village were built upon stout poles, in form of a circle. Beneath each house was evidence of a fire having been there, and from the door of each hut to the ground there was a ladder. In the centre of the circle made by the huts was what seemed a curious carved figure of a bird.

“ That is evidently the idol of the village of these heathen,” said Mr. Phipson. “ I had no idea they could carve so well. It’s no bird of Paradise, that, however.”

“ No, it looks like a cassowary,” remarked Tom.

“ Or an English gander,” said P'itzgerald.

“You’re all wrong,” said Joey. “That bird there is neither more nor less than a black swan.”

“What!” shouted Tom, rushing up to the piece of carved wood. “A black swan? No, not a black swan, but the Black Swan! This is the figurehead of the vessel in which my brother sailed! ”

CHAPTER XXVII.
ON THE TRACK OF THE HEAD-HUNTERS.

THE carved bird was quickly surrounded by the others of the party besides Tom. A little scrutiny of the object placed its identity beyond question. It was the figurehead of some vessel called the Black Swan. So much was certain. Beneath it lay a portion of the quarterboard, with the letters “ K SWAN ” painted upon it.

“ He’s right,” said Mr. Phipson. ‘‘This work of art is nothing more nor less than the figurehead of a vessel called the Black Swanl'

“ How did it come here? Was the vessel wrecked on the coast? Was there any one on board? Where is he—where is he? ”

Tom Courtland was speaking under the influence of his intense excitement at being thus brought face to face with evidence of the Black Swan having survived the departure of the boats —for it was not likely that the figurehead and quarterboard could have drifted alone upon this part of the coast of Yule Island.

“ Why can’t you ask the women what I tell you? ” he cried, addressing Joey.

“ I can’t ask them more than one question at a time,” said the interpreter, coolly.

Very few questions, however, were sufficient to reveal all that had happened in connection with the landing of the figurehead of the Black Swan.

From the answers which the native women returned to the inquiries, it appeared that the vessel had run upon the coral reef several months before—though how many the interpreter was unable to find out—and had become a total wreck. Three persons had saved themselves by floating ashore, and had lived on the most friendly terms with the natives, waiting until a chance ship might notice the signal which they had displayed at the head of one of the cliffs on the southern coast of the island. Then the raid of the head-hunters had taken place, and though the women said that the three strangers had fought bravely, they were all taken prisoners, and one of them had actually been wounded in the fight.

“Which of them?” cried Tom, who had listened to Joey’s translation of the answers of the women with beating heart.

“ It was the father who was wounded, they tell me,” said the interpreter. “ So that I would think it was the oldest of the three.”

“Ask them what the head-hunters usually do with the people they overcome in war,” said Mr. Phipson.

Joey put the question and received an answer in due course, but what the answer was he declined to reveal, nor could any threats from Mr. Phipson make him change his purpose.

“ I know, then, what they told you,” said Tom. “ They told you that the tribe of warriors were cannibals. You need not have hesitated, for knowing that makes no difference to me. We shall find my brother alive, I know.”

“ I hope so, sir, I’m sure,” said the man.

Immediately afterwards another question was put to one of the women, who was elaborately tattooed, and wore bracelets and a necklace of crocodiles’ teeth. She replied with many gestures, and Joey translated her answer into a statement that fifty days had passed since the attack by the head-hunters, and that they came down from the interior by a great river lying many days’ sail to the west of the island.

“That is evidently the Fly River,” said Mr. Phipson. “ I have studied the geography of this excursion pretty closely. Yes, the Fly is our destination now. It will take us six months exploring it, but that contract must be executed. What do you say, Tom, my boy?”

“ I say that the sooner,we commence it the better it will be for all concerned, and the sooner my brother will be rescued.”

“ Right you are; then suppose, instead of waiting here talking to those unfort’nate heathen, we make tracks to the launch and get aboard the schooner, set sail, and off to the west without an hour’s delay?"

“ What! you mean to go at once? ” cried Tom. “ But what about your quartz? ”

“ My quarts here are pints—dissapints, my boy,” cried Mr. Phipson. “Joey, my son, give each of the widows another half-dozen yards of the calico, and make it even redder than the last.”

“I’ll not have much to carry back to the schooner at this rate,” said the interpreter.

“And you’ll be all the better pleased at that,” returned Mr. Phipson.

While the operation of tearing the calico was being proceeded with, Tom and Fitzgerald stood together in front of the stranded figurehead of the Black Swan.

“ Oh, Fitz, who would have believed it? ” cried the boy. “To think that after all our knocking about, here we are looking, as it were, at the very ship itself that we wanted tidings of!”

“We may still be far from attaining our object, Tom, old fellow,” said Fitzgerald. “Ah, if we had but arrived here two months ago! ”

“ If we had—but never mind; there’s a Providence in everything. If it is God’s will, we shall save him yet.”

“ We are in God’s hands, but we will do our best all the same.”

The natives were loud in their expressions of gratitude to Mr. Phipson for his gift of the bright calico. One old lady, who wore curved shell ornaments in the lobes of her ears, and who was also elaborately tattooed, brought from the house a quantity of cooked bananas wrapped in large leaves and presented them to the American. He took the parcel graciously, though he had no great desire to taste the fruit that had been prepared by native fingers. Another brought him an ornament made of cassowary feathers, and a third pressed upon him a curiosity like a necklace made of crocodiles’ teeth.

Thus laden, the party made their way down to the steam-launch, and were soon aboard the Primrose.

When Mr. Gulbrandsen heard of the wonderful discovery of the relics of the Black Swan, he did not seem in the smallest degree surprised. But when he learned that the three survivors of the wreck of the Black Swan had been carried away by the tribe of head-hunters of the interior of New Guinea, he looked grave.

“ I have gone in ze surveying ship a hundred miles up zat river,” he said. “ I know all about it so far. Ve had to fight all day, and keep vatch all night. Ve all got fever except zose of us who got ague. It is not a nice river.”

“You’re the very man to write a tourist’s guide-book,” remarked Mr. Phipson. “Mother of Cassandra! it’s the cheerful sort of book you’d produce. It would be a rollicking volume for a wet afternoon. The Fly, I reckon, is no worse than any other river in a savage country. And if we have to fight all day, and keep spry all night, I reckon we’ve those among us that will be as equal to both of these duties as any freeborn Britishers that ever sailed under the Amer’can flag.”

“I don’t despair,” said the Norwegian. “Ze head-hunters have got forty days’ start of us, but vit good sailing ve shall overtake zem. Zey vill stay some days among ze islands at ze moud of ze river, and ve shall so be saved ze trouble of following zem very far—at least, I hope so.”

The encouragement implied in the first part of his sentence was fully neutralized by the tone in which he expressed his “ hope ”

“We trust you’ll have no remorse for the absurdly sanguine view you take of the situation,” remarked Mr. Phipson. “You seem to see everything through rose-coloured glasses.”

Mr. Gulbrandsen only smiled at the sarcasm, and hastened forward to give orders for weighing anchor. Before half an hour had passed, the Primrose was being towed out of Hall Sound by the steam-launch, and at sunset Tom Courtland was looking over the rail at the stern, thinking what the next month would bring forth. The previous day he had been like one groping in the darkness for an object, having no notion of its whereabouts; but now he felt that every tack made by the schooner was bringing him nearer the attainment of his hopes and prayers. He had now some ground for hoping that his brother was alive. Geoffrey had, he felt sure, been saved from the wreck of the Black Swan, and also from the arrows of the savage tribe that had come several hundred miles for the hideous purpose of collecting human heads. The same Providence that had sustained him through so many perils would, Tom felt, keep his brother until his friends had come to his assistance.

He turned into his bunk that night, feeling more than the vague hope which had been in his heart during the voyage from England.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
ANCHORED IN THE RIVER.'

MR. PHINEAS F. PHIPSON might have set out on this expedition with a very great desire to discover as much gold as would give him a position alongside the most famous millionnaire among his countrymen, and with the hope of finding Geoffrey Courtland occupying quite a secondary place in his mind; but since the discovery of the figurehead of the Black Swan, he seemed to have given himself wholly up to the object of finding the survivors of the wreck of the vessel.

Every day he discussed with Tom, Fitzgerald, and Mr. Gulbrandsen, plans for effecting the rescue of the three white men who were still, they believed, at the mercy of the most cruel of savages. The conclusion of their deliberations was that it would be wise to bring the schooner to anchor in a natural habour at one of the many islands at the mouth of the Fly River, while the launch should go up the river in search of tidings respecting the expedition of head-hunters.

Mr. Gulbrandsen was, however, hopeful that the immense rafts, which the women at Yule Island had referred to as the vessels of war of the marauding natives, would not have had time to go far on their homeward journey, so that their plans might be interfered with by the arrival of the schooner. It was considered advisable, however, to turn the launch into a miniature ironclad, and so to prepare for the worst. The carpenter contrived wooden shielding, running round the launch like a double bulwark; and this reaching a height of three feet all round, should certainly be sufficient to protect all aboard from arrows or spears, unless discharged from an elevation. The boards forming this armour could be removed at pleasure, and set up again in the course of a few minutes. The advantages of such a system of armour were apparent.

Then the management of the engine was studied by every one who was appointed to the river expedition, so that, should any accident happen to the engineer, his place could be filled without difficulty.

On the third day after leaving Yule Island, the look-out in the bow of the Primrose sighted land. Mr. Gulbrandsen was able to state that this was the coast of one of the many islands at the entrance to the river. The islands have been formed in the course of time by the accumulation of sand and mud brought down by the stream. They are flat, and quite overgrown with cocoa-nut palms and other picturesque trees.

In order to obtain, if possible, some intelligence respecting the course pursued by the expedition of head-hunters, the Primrose was brought to anchor opposite a native village in the centre of a small bay, and the steam-launch went ashore. This particular island lay nearer to the coast of New Guinea than any other in the archipelago, so that the flotilla of war-rafts could not have passed unobserved by many of the people of the village.

Mr. Gulbrandsen had picked upon many words of the dialect of this neighbourhood, and, consequently, went ashore in the launch to act as interpreter, for Joey confessed that he had never before been at the mouth of the river.

It seemed, however, on landing, that the services of no interpreter would be required, for the village was deserted. Though fires were still alight under some of the houses, proving that the flight of the inhabitants had been quite recent, yet not a human being was now in sight.

“ What fools those critters are! ” remarked Mr. Phipson. “ Perhaps no ship flying the Stars and Stripes has ever called here since the days of Noah, and yet when the chance of a good day’s trade comes in their way, they make tracks to the woods, and will consequently be kept for the next hundred years chopping away with blunt stone hatchets, knowing nothing of the blessings of iron.”

“ I zink from vat ve see ve may conclude zat zey have recently been visited by enemies from sea,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen. “ Zey are not always so timid; and at making a bargain zey have noding to learn from ze American nation, so you may guess how far advanced zey are.”

Without making the attempt to follow the shy or suspicious natives to the woods whither they had fled, the party once more got aboard the Primrose, and the anchor was soon weighed.

The vessel pursued her course between the islands and the mainland, but so close to the former that the villages, built, as usual, upon high poles, were easily perceptible; and, by the aid of a telescope, the natives were seen in considerable numbers eagerly watching the craft. It was not thought advisable to make the attempt to land at any of the villages, since the inhabitants seemed so timid. Mr. Gulbrandsen considered the wisest course he could pursue would be to reach the river with as little delay as possible, so as to overtake the marauding flotilla before the warriors from the interior would have abandoned the huge raft-like machines which the people of Yule Island had described to the company from the Primrose. The progress of such cumbersome vessels up even so broad a river as the Fly would necessarily be very slow, and Mr. Gulbrandsen was of the belief that the steam-launch might overtake them before the natives would land to complete their homeward journey.

It was impossible to tell when the vessel had entered the river, so many islands of all shapes and sizes were in the estuary, and innumerable passages being thereby formed. Mr. Gulbrandsen, having been in the surveying ship, was well acquainted with the navigation among the islets, otherwise the schooner would have frequently run aground.

When the river narrowed, still greater caution had to be shown, for at places the depth varied ^greatly according to the state of the tide. Nothing could exceed the splendour ot the vegetation on both sides of the river. The mighty palms towered overhead, and among them countless trees that blossomed in various colours, each appearing like a gigantic bouquet.

All up the high banks were ferns of every type, from the delicate Venus-hair to the great tree-fern, whose fronds grew like palm branches. Several times Tom Courtland saw among the trees the glorious hues of the birds of Paradise, and hourly the flapping of the sails of the Primrose startled the richly tinted kingfishers that were waiting for their prey upon fallen trunks above the water. More than once, too, when the tide had fallen and the schooner was lying at anchor waiting for the flood, what seemed like shapeless logs among the mud were seen to move slowly towards the water. These were the crocodiles with which the estuary of the Fly River swarms. All the company aboard the Primrose found that these creatures made excellent targets for rifle practice.

It was impossible, however, for either Tom or Fitzgerald to think of the marvels of the scenes through which they were passing, for, as they looked at the green banks of the river, both were thinking if it might not be possible that there was a path among those glorious forests which, if followed, would lead to Geoffrey.

On the second day after the river had been entered, the Primrose was anchored in the natural dock produced by the meeting of two islands at the further extremity of each. In this little bay the water was deep and the anchorage good. Early the next morning steam was got up in the boiler of the launch, and the little craft started upon her adventurous voyage up the unknown river.

CHAPTER XXIX.
IN THE STEAM-LAUNCH.

THE crew of the launch consisted of Mr. Phipson, Mr. Gulbrandsen, Mr. gm Horton, who was the engineer, four of the men of the Primrose, besides Joey, and, of course, Tom and Fitzgerald.

With so many mouths to fill for an indefinite period, and with a moderate supply of coal for the furnace, it is unnecessaiy to say that the little vessel was pretty heavily laden. Her equipment included several rifles and ordinary smooth-bores, a number of rockets and materials for making coloured fire, and also a quantity of beads and other articles of trade for the benefit of such natives as might be disposed to friendliness.

“ Now, my friends,” said Mr. Phipson, when the order was given to cast off from the schooner —“ now, my friends, I don’t mean to make a speech about civilization and humanity and other elements of the same nature—you all know as much as I do about these things; but I want to say that, though the folks we are going among are not likely to be the politest in the world—for you don’t usually think of a perfect gentleman as one that makes excursions now and again for the sole purpose of cutting off the heads of his fellow-men—no, but in spite of this, I’m not going to enter the territory of these people to slaughter them. No shot shall be fired from this craft unless it can’t be avoided. If we come across the head-hunters, we’ll—well, we’ll try and not lose our heads, and that means a lot; but we’ll not try to civilize them with bullets. Headhunting is their little weakness, and we’ll do what we can to discourage it. But that’s not the object of this cruise of ours: its object is to rescue the three white men who, we believe, still are alive among the head-hunters that carried them away from Yule Island; and rescue them we shall, if we should be compelled to search this island of New Guinea through and through. That’s all I have to say just now. Don’t fire at a native until there’s nothing left for you but to fire. Now give her her head, engineer.”

The mate and the men left in charge of the schooner set up a cheer as the engine of the launch began puffing, and the sound, echoing through the forests, was answered by the cries of innumerable birds; black cockatoos, parrots, and lorys of the most gorgeous plumage flew about from branch to branch with shrieks.

“If we only had Finn MacCoul here, he would make those parrots ashamed of themselves,” said Fitzgerald.

“ I fancy he is enjoying himself quite as well at Sydney,” laughed Tom. “ I think he would be a long time civilizing one of these forests, for it is quite likely the birds of Paradise might look upon him as their inferior in point of beauty.”

“ Intellect and not beauty is his strong point,” said Fitzgerald.

In a short time the masts of the Primrose were no longer seen above the stunted palms of the island. The launch and her company were fairly upon their way to achieve the object of the expedition.

As the river narrowed it became more serpentine, and the banks on either side were higher and more luxuriantly covered with trees of many species and a dense undergrowth of ferns and strange, tangled creeping plants, with thick vines coiled like snakes, and brambles with thorns three or four inches long. Once, upon a green plain beyond the natural ramparts of the river bank, the crew of the launch saw a mighty bird feeding, with several of its “chickens,” each as big as a Christmas prize turkey. Tom knew enough of natural history to be aware that this creature was the cassowary.

During the first day of the ascent of the river, no human being was to be seen. It seemed that wild nature held undisputed sway in this region. The launch must have gone fully eighty miles through the midst of this marvellous scenery before the engineer gave it as his opinion that no more coal should be added to the furnace for that day, but that the launch should be made fast at a short distance from one of the banks for the night, while some men went ashore and cut down trees to provide logs, in order that the coal might be economized. This suggestion was acted on at once. After serving out rations to all aboard, of the preserved meat and biscuit, with bananas and yams, the boat was anchored in the shelter of the bank where the undergrowth was less dense, and three of the crew went ashore in the small punt that the launch had in tow. Mr. Phipson, Tom, and Fitzgerald also landed with their guns, and before dusk succeeded in bringing down a number of beautiful pigeons of a species altogether unknown outside New Guinea. Each bird was crested with a waving tuft of long feathers, the effect of which was very striking. A kangaroo also fell to a shot of Fitzgerald’s, so that for the next couple of days at least they were sure of fresh meat, and so could spare the tinned stores for an emergency.

On returning from the short excursion inland, the hunting party found that the men had cut down a large tree; but the wood was so marvellously hard, they declared, that if they were to try and cut it into logs not a whole axe should be left aboard.

The tree was, in fact, of the sort known as the break-axe tree, so that the complaints of the men were well founded. Mr. Phipson, hearing them, smiled.

“You call yourselves workmen?” he said. “You call this a square job—cutting down a twig like that and leaving it to be chawed up by crocodiles or made a spring-board for rattlesnakes? Now, I bet that I make logs of that inside a quarter of an hour.”

“ Not with our axes, sir,” said one of the men.

Mr. Phipson smiled again. He went back to the punt and brought from under one of the beams a small parcel which he had placed there. From the parcel he extracted what seemed a rather large gun cartridge. He busied himself with this for a few moments and then placed it in a hollow of the tree where the branches were most gnarled in joining the trunk.

“Now,” said Mr. Phipson, “all those who don’t long for sudden death had best take a back seat just now. It’s a pretty large order I’m about to execute, but I reckon I’m equal to it.”

The party moved off to an elevated ground at a considerable distance, and, after attaching a fuse to what Tom now knew was a dynamite cartridge, Mr. Phipson also hastened away.

In three minutes there was a terrific explosion that shook the forest to its furthest depths. Amid a cloud of smoke the thick trunk was shattered and fragments of branches the size of small masts were hurled into the air and flung around in every direction. For, apparently, miles on every side the forest resounded with the shrieks of birds and the cries of strange animals.

“ I opine,” said Mr. Phipson, “ that there’s no Prime Minister of Great Britain able to break up a bunch of twigs in better time or with more effect.”

The men, seeing their work done for them so neatly, set up a cheer as they hastened to collect sufficient logs to supply the furnace of the launch for a whole day without forcing the engineer to draw upon his precious cargo of coal.

That night was one of exquisite beauty. Before the moon rose, the forest was illuminated by millions of fireflies, that floated about among the foliage, making every leaf glow as though a number of Chinese lanterns were suspended from the boughs. The air was laden with the exquisite scent of sandal wood and nutmeg and many flowering trees, and over all silence reigned, save when a crocodile would splash into the water, or when some nocturnal bird of prey would seize upon a victim.

The scene was so strange it was not to be wondered that the night was far advanced before Tom or Fitzgerald could go to sleep upon their blankets on the hard deck of the little vessel.

CHAPTER XXX.
AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE NATIVES.

THE launch had not gone more than half a dozen miles up the river the next day, before a large village came in view, built close to the bank.

“ Now is our chance to get information about the flotilla of head-hunters,” said Fitzgerald. “ I can see men moving about among the trees.” “Yes, and there are canoes at the water’s edge,” said Tom. “ I hope they will be as friendly as those at Orangerie Bay.”

He had not long to wait for an answer. From the reeds opposite the village fully a dozen canoes, some of them very large, were pushed off simultaneously, the occupants of each being painted in broad streaks of black and blue, and wearing upon their heads immense nodding coronets of cassowary feathers. In the stern of the largest canoe were seated several natives with drums made of hollow wood, and beaten with instruments of bone at a furious rate. Others rattled shells and stones together so that it could hardly be said that the effect of this band was harmonious.

“ What are they up to?” said Mr. Phipson, as the fleet of canoes paddled right into the middle of the river, those natives who were not engaged at the paddles gesticulating wildly with bows in their hands.

“ I fear zey mean mischief,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen. “Zey never appear in ze war-paint and vit ze fedders on zeir heads unless zey mean mischief.”

“ They are fools,” said Mr. Phipson. “ Shout to them whatever words you know that might quiet them.”

“Miro—miro!” shouted Mr. Gulbrandsen. “That means peace,” he remarked to his friends.

“ Miro—miro! ” cried all aboard the launch; but a defiant shout from the natives was the only reply they received to their declaration of friendliness.

The launch was stopped and a council of war, lasting three minutes, was held.

“ It is no use trying to become friendly vit zem now,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen. “ Ve must pass on to ze next village.”

“But if they won’t let us do that?” said Tom.

“We must teach them a lesson,” said Mr. Phipson. “ Up with the quarterboards, so that we can defy their arrows.”

The boards which the carpenter had prepared to run along the bulwarks were quickly placed in position, and as they reached almost up to the zinc awning that covered the boat fore and aft, there was no chance of an arrow doing damage to any of the crew.

Mr. Phipson, Tom, and Fitzgerald went to the bows with their heavy rifles.

“ Aim at the watermark of the canoes,” cried Mr. Phipson, as the natives redoubled their exertions with their paddles, and now formed a barrier right across the river. All the paddles were now dropped, and every man held instead a long bow.

The launch, being thus held at bay, began letting off superfluous steam, and this noise produced a visible impression upon the natives. They by no means relished the aspect affairs were assuming. Still, they held to their position and waited the approach of the launch.

“ Put on every ounce of steam you can,” cried Mr. Phipson suddenly to the engineer. “Now, Tom, my boy, you disable the canoe with the band aboard; you, Fitz, riddle the big one nearest land; and I guess I’ll do a bit of ornamental fretwork of a new design upon the craft that carries the gentleman with the entire cassowary upon his head.”

“ But the largest one right in the middle? ” said Tom.

“That’s reserved for another fate, my boy. We’ll run it down! Make for the centre canoe, Gulbrandsen, and if it escapes we’ll throw you overboard. Now then, drive her ahead, engineer! Knock the sparks out of her! ”

Full steam was instantly put upon the little craft, and she darted ahead, puffing wildly and blowing the steam-whistle. Some of the canoes nearest shore were quickly emptied of their occupants, for the steam-whistle was too much for their nerves; the others, however, kept their position, and a cloud of arrows sped to the launch. They sounded like hail on the zinc roof, and the wooden shielding became like a fretful porcupine with arrow bristles.

“ Give it to them, my lads,” said Mr. Phipson, putting his rifle-barrel through one of the loopholes in the shielding. Tom and Fitzgerald had theirs already in position, and at the same instant three rifle-balls left the launch.

Then arose wild yells from the natives, and in another instant the sharp bow of the launch crashed into the biggest of the canoes. The launch was literally moving through a sea of human faces and bobbing cassowary feathers,

The engine had, however, been stopped at the moment of the collision, so that the propeller could not injure any of the natives in the water, and the launch was carried on by the impetus of her former speed alone.

The scene that met the eyes of all aboard, as they looked back, was ludicrous in the extreme. Upon the surface of the water hundreds of cassowary plumes were floating, and thousands of arrows, the barbs being of stone or fishbones, sinking some inches. Paddles and broken patches of the canoes were mixed in wild confusion together. The natives, as they emerged from the river, looking extremely draggled, made their way up the bank, and instantly fled to the woods, without casting a single glance at the monster that had brought about their discomfiture. From the village also a number of women and children could be seen running toward the woods, followed by miserable dogs and still more miserable pigs. It added to the humorous appearance of the scene to see many of the women carrying in their arms, not babies, but little pigs, which, however, made quite as much noise as if they had been babies.

“ They have been taught a lesson,” said Mr. Phipson, as soon as the bursts of laughter provoked aboard the little steamer by the episode had ceased,

“ It will last them for the remainder of their life,” said Tom.

“ Yes,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen; “ but it has not helped us on our expedition. Ve did not come to give savages lessons on ze steam-engine and its power, but to get zem to tell us all zey can about ze people ve are looking for.”

“ He’s right,” said Mr. Phipson. “ Unless we can make friends with some of the native tribes, we shall learn nothing respecting the movements of the head-hunters we have advertised for.”

“ So far we have had no difficulty in disposing of the natives,” said Tom; “but I admit that I would rather see them friendly than warlike. Maybe, however, they are not all alike.”

“Let us hope so much, at any rate,” said Mr, Phipson.

CHAPTER XXXI.
A DISPLAY OF FIREWORKS.

THE launch anchored at a part of the river where the banks were very high and precipitous, about ten miles beyond the village whence the attacking party had come. The first watch for the night had just been set, and the fire in the furnace had been allowed to go out, when the sound of many voices was heard in the distance, and then the beating of drums and the clang of the shell instruments, less melodious than the “ bones ” of a negro band.

“ Tell them to move on to the next hall door, or we’ll send for a policeman,” said Mr. Phipson. “ This sort of serenading is most inopportune.” He picked up his rifle, and, opening the breach, dropped a cartridge into each of the barrels. Tom and Fitzgerald followed his example. The arrow shielding was once more set up, and the ship’s company, having thus, as it were, “cleared the decks for action,” awaited the arrival of the canoes.

There seemed to be from forty to fifty of this craft, and they advanced in good order.

“ Miro—miro! ” shouted every voice on the deck of the launch; but a defiant shout, and some words which Joey translated as “no peace,” were the only reply made by the natives.

“ I’m a man "of peace by nature,” said Mr. Phipson; “ but it’s as well not tc rouse me. This lesson-teaching is becoming monotonous. I reckon I'll turn head-hunter on my own account if those heathen provoke me. Here they come in swarms. I’m afraid some of them will be hurt with their exertions.”

“ Vait,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen; “ ve’ll try zem vit a little firevorks display, just by vay of showing vat sort of entertainment ve can provide ven hard pressed.”

When the canoes had approached within a hundred yards, Mr. Gulbrandsen let off a rocket right over their heads, and then another a little closer to them. A quantity of red fire was at the same moment set alight in a vessel on the zinc awning of the launch, and by the ruddy glare it cast around for a great distance, the figures in the canoes could be seen paddling madly down the river. Several of the fleet were empty, the crews having abandoned them and made for the shore by swimming.

In a quarter of an hour the shouts had died away in the distance, and the birds that had awakened had ceased to shriek.

“ Well, if any one had told me that among all my enterprises I should at last sink to the level of pyrotechnist, to entertain savages who enter the show without tickets, I would have said that my informant was economical of the truth,” remarked Mr. Phipson, as he lit his tenth cigar for the evening—for he was an inveterate smoker, and he indulged his taste liberally aboard the launch, under the plea that he wished to keep away the innumerable insects. Tom, however, declared that he had been bitten so violently one evening, he fully believed that every insect in the neighbourhood enjoyed tobacco fumes more than anything else, and that they looked forward to coming aboard the launch regularly for their afternoon cigars.

No further molestations from natives took place that night, and in the morning the men were able to go ashore and fell some wood for the furnace. Tom and Fitzgerald had also some sport with the fowling-pieces, while Mr. Phipson remained fishing. The cook was in the best of spirits when he was presented with both fish and fowl in plenty, and there was no danger of any one aboard starving for at any rate two days.

During the next day’s steaming onward many native villages were seen, but the inhabitants had either deserted them or were keeping out of the way. Towards the afternoon the river narrowed considerably, and the current was so strong that the little vessel could with difficulty bear up against it. After several hours’ steaming, Mr. Gulbrandsen calculated that only about fifteen miles had been passed over. Tom could not conceal his disappointment when he learned how great was the force of the current “If we can only with such difficulty work against it, what chance would a flotilla of rafts have under similar circumstances? ” he exclaimed.

“You mean to imply that the head-hunters, with their prisoners, have been compelled to leave the river route before reaching this place? ” said Mr. Phipson.

“ How is it possible to arrive at any other conclusion? ” said Tom. “ We know what size the rafts must have been to carry so many men and make such a long voyage round the coast, and yet here we are now at a part of the river where the current is too strong even for a steamer of light draught like ours to pass, still we have found no trace of the flotilla of head-hunters and their prisoners. Surely we must have ascended the wrong river.”

“ Best ask Gulbrandsen,” said Mr. Phipson. “ And all I say is zat I believe ve are on ze right river,” said the Norwegian; “ze current here I believe to be due to a heavy rainfall among ze hills. Zere may have been no current yesterday or ze day before. I believe zat ve shall find to-morrow zat a branch of zis river goes off to ze starboard side—I mean ze vest— and collects ze rain to make zis current.”

The next day’s steaming proved the accuracy of this conclusion. The current became stronger still, until a sudden bend in the river brought the launch opposite a small island formed evidently by the accumulation of mud and debris swept down from a broad stream that branched off from the Fly River, and was soon lost among the tangled forests. The river here widened considerably, and the action of the tributary stream had undermined the opposite bank so that several trees had fallen, and the roots of others had become visible, spreading out in various fantastic wreaths and coils like those of a snake. The river made another turn beyond the mouth of the newly discovered stream, and it seemed that the forests along the bank were denser than at any part of the Fly.

It was late in the evening when the launch anchored out of the force of the current at the further point of the little island, and the ship’s company hastened ashore to stretch their limbs while supper was being prepared aboard the little craft. The only trees here were tall cocoa-nut palms, but among the high branches were several strange birds of beautiful plumage. These the young men refrained from shooting, but they had no scruples about making some practice against a huge crocodile that lay among the mud below the black roots of the river-bank. Mr. Phipson did not join them; they noticed him strolling pensively along the coast of the island, kicking up the sand here and there, and examining the largest of the stones in a highly critical manner.

They were somewhat mystified by his action; but when, after supper, leaving them to be devoured by the innumerable ants of amazing appetite, and, as Fitzgerald declared, of wonderfully powerful jaw-bones, Mr. Phipson strayed away to the same part of the bank with a tin vessel in his hand, the young men were more mystified than ever. They followed him silently, and saw that he filled the vessel with sand, which he began to wash earnestly by the light of a small lantern, pouring off the water every now and again, and scrutinizing the deposit as though it were the smallest print which he was endeavouring to read.

They wondered if so practical and sensible a man as the American could have gone mad in a moment, and they did not consider their doubts on this matter set at rest when suddenly Mr. Phipson leaped to his feet and waved his hat above his head with a cheer.

“What on earth is the matter?” said Fitzgerald, coming forward with Tom.

“ Matter, my boys! take a glance at the contents of that amateur cradle, and you will soon know what’s the matter.”

He handed Fitzgerald the tin vessel.

“Cradle! you don’t call this a cradle?” laughed Fitzgerald.

“That’s just what I do call it, my boy. A cradle, as you would know if ever you had been in the mining districts, is the vessel in which the sand is washed for gold. This tin pannikin is now a cradle. You may put your doubts into it, and rock them into a balmy slumber, if you have ever doubted that we were on our way to a land of gold. Look at them atoms, shining like the beautiful stars in heaven so bright.”

“ There are precious few of them,” said Tom, looking into the tin, as the light of the lantern was cast upon the surface of the deposit.

“ Precious few! I should rather think they arc exactly precious few,” said Mr. Phipson. “ Sir, those precious few sparks of gold that you see shining there are worth intrinsically about ten cents.; but what is a Bank of England note for £10,000 worth intrinsically? Why about twenty cents, a quire. Now look on those sparks as a bank-note for a hundred millions of pounds, and you know about their exact value. Mother of the Great Mogul! we are at the door of an enchanted tower that contains from the ground to the roof a store of diamonds and rubies in sacks waiting to be carted away. The carting away is in our hands, the door of the enchanted tower is flung open to us—that stream there that we have discovered is the entrance to the tower. I suspected it came down from those central mountains that no civilized man has yet reached; and I fancied that it had washed down from its ancient bed the particles of gold lying about there in heaps. Knowing that this island had been formed of the washing down of that stream, I thought it would be no harm to put the sand to the test. There’s the result, my friends. We are millionnaires. Millionnaires, did I say? Mother of Croesus! the biggest millionnaires might accept out-door relief from us. We could allow them a thousand pounds a day apiece and not miss it”

“ What do you propose to do?” asked Fitzgerald when Mr. Phipson paused for breath.

“ At present, only to go up that river a mile or two, and bring down specimens of the washings. We have not men enough to do anything definite.”

“We have not found my brother, and his companions yet,” said Tom, quietly.

“You are right, Tom,” said Mr. Phipson. “ We’ll not let anything make us forget that we have to do that first and foremost. Friends first and gold afterwards, must be our motto; but we’ll just spend a few hours in the daylight up that stream while the engineer is getting up steam. Even if we should find rocks of gold, they would be no use to us at present. All we can do is to discover the road to those rocks. Now, don’t breathe a word of this to any one aboard the launch. I know what the consequences of a discovery of gold are to men. There is not a man in the crew who would be with us to-morrow. They would all desert and starve with the rocks of gold in their arms.”

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE LONELY GRAVE.

WHEN the first streak of day appeared in the sky—there is no dawn in the latitude of the southern part of New Guinea—the men from the launch began cutting down trees for fuel, but Mr. Phipson, with Tom and Fitzgerald, set out in the punt for the stream which flowed down opposite to the island.

“ We are going to do a little exploring for an hour or two," said Mr. Phipson in reply to Mr. Gulbrandsen.

“ Not longer than an hour or two, I hope," said the Norwegian. “Ve must do some good vork to-day; if ve do not get some news before night, ve may as veil put ze launch about and return to ze schooner.”

“We’ll be back before steam is up in the boiler,” replied Mr. Phipson.

Taking their guns, the three got into the little boat, Tom and Fitzgerald seating themselves at the oars.

It was by no means easy work rowing against the current in the little river, even though the punt was very light. There was, however, no possibility of following the course of the river except by boat, for the mangroves on either bank formed an undergrowth far too dense for any human being to penetrate. The two young men toiled away steadily for nearly an hour, encouraged by Mr. Phipson, who every now and again exclaimed—

“Won’t we come down stream at a pretty rate, my lads! ”

“I wish we were doing that now,” panted Tom.

“You are working like men,” said Mr. Phipson. “ The boss painters of the world will not think it beneath them to illustrate this scene in after days. * The discoverers of gold in New Guinea en route to the diggings,’ that’ll be the title of the picture, and I hope the painters will do justice to my features. Pull away, my boys.”

This exhortation formed the conclusion to every sentence he spoke; and, to do them justice, both Tom and Fitzgerald did pull away.

After more than an hour’s rowing against the stream, the river, to their great joy, broadened out into a long, shallow lake, margined with reeds, among which countless water-fowl were swimming. Giant storks were standing here, each poised on one foot, and strange birds that seemed like flamingoes rose heavily at the approach of the boat, and fled towards the distant hills. The splash of a crocodile was also heard, and from the mangroves at the entrance to the lagoon, enormous lizards ran and hid themselves among the big water-flags.

“This is the most weird scene we have yet come to," said Fitzgerald. “I must confess I don’t like the idea of penetrating far into this region. Your enchanted tower may be a capital place, but I don’t admire the approaches to it. I think we had much better return before it is too late.”

“Too late! Push ahead, and don’t give way to such notions. I reckon we’re men, and not seminary young ladies aboard this craft. I think the view is, on the whole, remarkable; but we may expect a little eccentricity of nature in a place never yet beheld by the educated eyes of a white man.”

“How much further are we to go?" asked Tom.

“Just across the lagoon, and a hundred yards up one of the arms in the direction of the hills.”

It was easy work rowing across the lake, or, properly speaking, the lagoon. The surface was unruffled, and there was no current. The boat soon reached one of the small rivers that acted as feeders to this broad water.

“ Now, a couple of hundred yards up this, and we are all right,” said Mr. Phipson.

The boat pushed in among the boughs that barred the entrance to the stream, and found that the banks on either side were precipitous. About a quarter of a mile from the entrance, there was a gorge which had evidently been the bed of a stream from the hills, and which at the rainy season was perhaps filled up again.

“ That’s the place for us,” said Mr. Phipson. “We’ll sample the sand in that hollow, for if there’s gold in New Guinea it will be found there.” A short pull was sufficient to run the punt aground at the entrance to this gorge. Mr. Phipson jumped ashore with his “ cradle.”

“ Now, if you wish to do a little exploring, don’t wait by me,” he said.

Fitzgerald, though he would have enjoyed a ramble, declared that he would remain to turn up the sand for the washing. Tom, however, took one of the double-barrelled rifles and a cartridge-belt, and said he would go and try to bring down a kangaroo or a cassowary.

“ Don’t miss your bearings, my boy, or be absent more than half an hour. If anything is likely to happen, fire your rifle twice at short intervals, and we’ll do the same on our side. I wouldn’t advise you to go out of sight of the gorge here, and of course you won’t take to the woods, where you’d get lost in five minutes.”

Promising to remember Mr. Phipson’s injunctions, Tom clambered up the bank by the side of the forest, and along the ridge of the gorge until it narrowed and wound away towards the hills.

There was a considerable space that had been cleared of trees a short way from where he stood, and beyond this space was the dense forest. Tom made up his mind to stroll along by the edge of this forest, on the chance of having a shot at a cassowary; but he had scarcely more than crossed over half the intervening space when his attention was drawn to a strange object in a hollow where a solitary palm was growing. The object that he saw was a small wooden cross.

He stood motionless, looking at that symbol that had been raised in a place which he believed the eyes of no Christian but himself had ever looked upon. What could it mean? he wondered. Whose hands had planted it there?

He walked across the intervening space, and soon stood opposite the cross beneath the solitary palm. But when he had come close enough to read the words with which the face of the cross was inscribed, he gave a start, and would have fallen to the ground if he had not rested upon his rifle.

The words painted roughly upon the rough wood were as follows:

“ To the memory of George Heyzvood, late master of the ‘ Black Swan,’

who died at this place from the effects of an arrow wound; this symbol of his last hope was raised by his friends, G. Conrtland and S. Borrowdaile. ‘ He maketh the wilderness to blossom as the rose.' ”

CHAPTER XXXIII.
IN THE HANDS OF THE HEAD-HUNTERS.

TOM COURTLAND threw himself down on the ground and burst into tears. He now knew that his brother was alive though perhaps in great peril. The words painted upon the wood of the cross were quite fresh. They could not have been written longer than a day or two.

He started up when he had recovered from his first outburst of emotion.

“Jeff! Jeff, old fellow, where are you?” he cried. “ Where can we go to look for you? ” His words sounded strange in that lonely place. They startled some of the birds at the border of the tropical forest, which flew overhead uttering inharmonious cries.

He turned about and ran to the ridge of the gorge, making his way back to the boat; but he had just got within view of the punt and the two figures sitting on a rock in the dry river bed, when a series of wild yells rang through the still air. A hundred savage forms rushed down the bank at the entrance to the river -bed, cutting off the two white men from their boat, where their rifles were lying. Tom saw them both rush fiercely among the savages, several of whom went down beneath the blows of their fists. Then he saw the natives press upon them in a dense crowd. There was a swaying of the crowd like a scrimmage at football, and in a few moments another series of wild yells of delight arose. The natives separated and danced wildly round the prostrate forms of Mr. Phipson and Barry Fitzgerald.

Tom had been riveted with astonishment to the spot where he stood. The whole scene which was being enacted seemed like a dream to him. But now that he heard the yells of victory, and saw his friends at the mercy of those wretches, he seemed to recover himself. He dropped a bullet cartridge in each barrel of his rifle, and rushed along the bank, keeping well in cover, and he was soon among the short trees above where the boat was lying. He threw himself on the ground, and crawled along the summit of the bank, until he found, by resting his rifle between two rocks, he could take a deadly aim at any of the natives below.

His first impulse naturally was to fire, but then he reflected that these savages were far fiercer and bolder than any that had been encountered on the Fly River. If he should fire and bring down half a dozen of them, the remainder would undoubtedly rush upon him, and it would be impossible for him to escape when attacked by some hundreds.

Looking down cautiously, he saw that neither of his friends had been killed. Their hands had been bound behind their backs with thick cords, but they were sitting on the ground in the middle of the band of natives, and he could see that Mr. Phipson was saying something to Fitzgerald. All at once the latter shouted out at the top of his voice—

“Tom, Tom, if you are near here, don’t mind us now. We’re not hurt. Keep away and we’ll manage to get off all right. Don’t fire until you can’t help it.”

Of course he could make no answer to this, for fear of being detected by the natives. Hearing Fitzgerald’s shouting, but not knowing its import, the savages consulted together, and one of them said a few words to Fitzgerald, at the same time drawing his bow and putting an arrow in the string. Tom had his rifle ready cocked. He looked along the sights, and felt confident that he could send a bullet into the brain-pan of the man with the bow.

After a short space of festivity, the natives took the guns out of the boat, examining them with signs of curiosity, and looking down the barrels; then they removed the rudder, the oars, and the brass rowlocks, and made signs for their two prisoners to rise. Tom was boiling with rage, and could scarcely restrain himself from firing when he saw a tali black deal a kick to Fitzgerald, whose hat he wore quite jauntily. Neither of the prisoners spoke a word, however, but went with the natives when they formed a sort of disorderly procession, and began the march up the opposite bank to where Tom was lying. The trees were thick all over the sloping ground, but not so dense as to make walking very difficult, Tom could see.

He waited until the last of the party had disappeared in the forest, before he cautiously rose. The whole scene was like a dream to him. The sacred sign that told him his brother was alive, then the sight of the hundreds of savages attacking his companions, the strange procession in the dazzling sunlight, and, finally, the wood, all seemed to him like the recollection of a horrible dream.

“No, no,” he cried, “it is no dream; it is a terrible reality; but it is left with me to save them all—my brother and my friends.”

If he had had oars, he would not have hesitated to enter the punt and make for the shore, to bring up reinforcements from the launch; but without oars what could he do?

He crossed the empty river-bed, from which Mr. Phipson had had such hopes of fortune. Alas! he had literally built his hopes upon sand. He climbed the bank, and, without hesitation, entered the forest, following by the way he knew the natives and their prisoners had taken, for on either side was an undergrowth so thick as to be impassable. Above him floated the birds of Paradise, black cockatoos, and wonderful green parrots, while countless of those strange creatures, the flying foxes, shot past him. More than once, in the dim light of the glade, he could see the shining body of a snake and its gleaming eyes.

He went along cautiously but quickly, for he was not sure that another band of natives would not be following the first. After he had passed over four or five miles of the forest path—if the route could be termed a path—he began to fear that he must have taken the wrong course. He paused and put his ear to the ground, as he had heard of Red Indians doing. This device was successful; he could hear the sound of many feet at, evidently, a long distance.

At the end of another half-hour the sound of shouting came clearly to his ears. He quickly made a dive into the thicket, where he knew he should be effectually hidden; but after waiting here some time, the sounds did not seem to increase, and he ventured out once more.

Walking on for about a quarter of a mile, he found whence the sound of voices had come. He was within view of a native village—the largest he had yet seen. The houses were built so as to form a hollow square of considerable size, and, as usual, the buildings were of wood and raised from the ground on trunks, ten and fifteen feet high, a rough ladder being in front of each house.

Tom could perceive that the square was crowded, and a perfect babel of voices filled the air. Men, women, children, dogs, and pigs seemed to be holding a vocal contest. Being afraid to venture closer lest he should be seen, Tom looked about for a tree that he could climb. He with some difficulty found one that seemed less overgrown with thorns than the others, though in making the ascent he was led to wonder what climbing the more thorny trunks would have been like if this was a specimen of the less thorny ones. His flesh was torn in various places, and when he found himself among the highest branches and able to unsling his rifle from his back, he felt as if some amateur carpenter had been practising picture-hanging upon his body.

He ceased to feel any pain, however, when he found that he could from his elevated position see all that was going on in the village square.

In the middle, Mr. Phipson and Fitzgerald were seated on the ground. All their loose clothing had been stolen, and though the chief who had taken Fitzgerald’s hat after the attack, retained it, Mr. Phipson’s was worn by one of the women. Their coats had also been stolen, but no one in the village was clever enough to understand how these garments were meant to be worn. The coats had been removed by cutting them down from the sleeves, to obviate the necessity for freeing the hands of the captives.

Many rude jests were evidently being made at the prisoners’ expense. The children of the village were exhorted by their elders to throw earth at them, and the young ones obeyed like veritable demons. Tom’s teeth were very tightly set all this time. He was obliged to turn away his head for fear he should betray his whereabouts. Almost every native in the square held a bow and arrows, others had long knives made of bamboo, and some had stone clubs. He felt that he should have no chance against these weapons Another sight that he saw thrilled him with horror; hanging in front of almost every house was a netted bag containing human heads. Some of these hideous receptacles contained at least twenty of the fearful trophies, while others had fewer. Even while Tom was watching from his post of observation, one of the tallest of the natives appeared in the square, having come out from a house that was different in shape from the majority in the village, and he bore in his arms an additional bag devoted to the same ghastly purpose as the nets hanging around. He also carried an immense knife made of bamboo.

At his appearance the natives set up a wild yell, and the dancing was more fast and furious than ever. Tom was compelled to clasp the thick branch of the tree upon which he was seated, to prevent himself from falling to the ground. The sight of this butcher coming reeking from the slaughter-house, so struck him with horror that he was seized with a fit of trembling that almost deprived him of the power to maintain his position of concealment. When, however, he saw the stalwart executioner swing his horrible burden before the faces of the two captives with a loud laugh and a significant gesture with the knife, Tom became himself again. The throbbing in his brain ceased; he felt his face becoming cold, and an unnatural coolness took possession of him altogether. He rested his rifle-barrel upon one of the branches, and with his finger on the trigger, took a “ sight ” for the head of the stalwart savage. He felt as tranquil as though he were aiming at a target; for extreme excitement can produce an unnatural calm as well as an unnatural fever in the blood. He was not certain what were the intentions of this man who seemed to be the executioner to the head-hunters; but he knew that, as surely as that terrible knife would be upraised against his friends, so surely should a bullet be in the brain of the executioner.

It seemed, however, that the murder of the two prisoners was to be deferred, for the butcher left them after a time and hastened to where a cocoa-nut vessel was standing, full of a liquid which was doubtless a powerful stimulant. He emptied the vessel at one draught, and then threw himself on the ground beneath one of the houses and fell asleep.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
TIIE RESCUE OF THE CAPTIVES.

AFTER the first hour of his occupation of the uncomfortable position among the branches of the high tree, Tom Courtland began to feel more at his ease. He could now think over a plan for the rescue of his friends and for the discovery of his brother, who, he now felt certain, was also among these savages. Geoffrey, he believed, had not yet been murdered j for it was evident that the cross over the grave of the captain of the Black Swan had not been erected longer than a few days; but it was plain that, if not yet dead, he was only being reserved for destruction by the monsters into whose hands he had fallen.

All that Tom could hope was that Mr. Gulbrandsen and a portion of the crew of the launch would find their way up to this village before night, when a rescue might be effected of Mr. Phipson and Fitzgerald at least Six guns could, Tom believed, overcome the entire tribe of head-hunters, and then terms might be made for the delivery of Geoffrey and his companion, whose name Tom recognized on the tomb as that of the second mate of the Black Swan. It was this man’s wife who had been found by Mr. Courtland at the office of the owners, where he had gone to inquire about the missing vessel.

Tom could see that his friends, who were still lying bound in the centre of the village, were talking together in low tones. He would have given anything to hear what they were saying or to be able to communicate with them. But he was determined to run no risk in the matter. He restrained his desire to do something that would attract their attention, for it would have been impossible to do so without being observed by the natives as well, and in such a case all hopes of safety might be abandoned.

Mr. Phipson and Fitzgerald, after speaking together for some time in an undertone, laid themselves flat upon the ground where they had previously been sitting, and fell asleep, much to Tom’s surprise. They were evidently wearied out with the long march, during which the sun had been beating upon their uncovered heads, and with the bondage which they still endured. The thought came to Tom that perhaps he, too, might fall asleep, and in the meantime his friends should be murdered. The thought came upon him like a blow.

“ No, no,” he said resolutely to himself; “ I will not fall asleep. If I were to do so I should look upon myself as the murderer of my companions. I am in the position of a sentry who is responsible for the safety of an important outpost. If I fell asleep I should deserve to be shot.”

He felt, indeed, no inclination to sleep. The pain of the wounds he had received from the thorns in climbing the tree was of itself too great to allow of his sleeping, and the posture he was compelled to assume, to accommodate his limbs to the branches, was far too uncomfortable to admit of his having even the briefest repose.

Thus the day wore on until the sun, that had been shining down with an intolerable glare into the village, was hidden by the trees of the forest. The natives had kindled a large fire in the centre of the square, and were cooking bananas, sago, and sweet potatoes, evidently in preparation of a feast. The women only discharged this duty; the men lay about in savage idleness, drinking of the liquor that remained in the cocoa-nut vessels.

Just before sunset there sounded a great commotion in the forest. The yells of the natives mingled with the beating of the wooden drums and the clinking of the shells. In the village, answering “ music ” of the same description, vocal and instrumental, was raised. The men roused themselves and hastened to meet the advancing party.

In a short time a procession of perhaps two hundred natives appeared upon the forest track. It was plain from their gestures that they had achieved a victory, for the foremost carried a quantity of spoil slung on their shoulders in the netted bags that served as hammocks for the children, and also for the transport of the horrible trophies which they sought. The procession passed quite close to the tree where Tom was perched, and his sensations may be imagined when he recognized round the waist of the foremost savage a life-buoy, bearing upon it the name Primrose. The life-buoy had, he knew, been aboard the steam-launch.

Each of the men carried something that was recognized by Tom as belonging to the launch— tins of preserved meat, pieces of chain, old ropes, the shovel used for throwing on coal, lumps of the coal itself, the bedding, the spare sails—all were recognized by Tom as the procession passed.

His heart sank within him. The savages had succeeded in obtaining possession of the launch, so that, even if his friends were free, they would have no chance of finding their way back to the schooner at the entrance to the river. He felt as if he would like to drop from the tree and have a good fight with those wretches before dying by their arrows. He felt desperate as a wild animal run to earth.

It suddenly occurred to him that he had not noticed any firearms among the booty carried by the natives, and he thereby obtained a grain of hope. It might be that they had not succeeded in killing the crew, though they had certainly ransacked the launch.

He saw the expression upon the faces of the two captives, who had awakened when the fresh detachment of natives appeared in the village with the spoil stolen from the launch. He fancied he could hear Mr. Phipson say, “ It’s all up with us, Fitz, my boy; we’re finished coons.”

At any rate, he saw Fitzgerald shake his head mournfully when his companion spoke.

Just at sunset the booty was distributed among the warriors of the tribe. The chief who had appropriated Fitzgerald’s hat, obtained for his share of the goods nearly all the tins that had arrived, though the way in which they -were to be opened was still a mystery to him. He contented himself for the present shaking the contents violently, roaring with laughter as he put each tin to his ear, as though he imagined it contained a living thing.

When night came, and the fire in the centre of the village was increased by the immense logs that were thrown upon it, the scene was weird as any pantomime dream. The naked savages, dancing wildly with the glow of the flames upon their polished skin, seemed like the demons in an “enchanted palace” scene, and their cries were consistently wild and discordant. Tom could not help thinking over the words of Mr. Phipson. “We are at the entrance to an enchanted tower,” he had said the previous evening. Truly his words had been realized.

While Tom was thus thinking, a sudden - rustling among the leaves beneath him caused him to glance downward. The instant he did so a low cry of horror escaped from him. Within a few feet of the branch upon which he was seated, the eyes of a large snake were gleaming. The reptile was making its way up the trunk of the tree, and was ready to spring upon him.

As soon as he recovered himself, he slowly drew up his legs; then, with the same amount of caution, he crept out upon the branch until it almost broke beneath his weight. Then, suddenly launching himself into the air, he grasped a bough of the nearest tree with his right hand, holding his rifle in the left. He meant to swing himself with his legs round this branch, but the force of his spring was so great that the branch snapped suddenly, and he fell to the ground. He was on his feet in an instant, for the branch had bent to within his own height from the ground before breaking; but the moment he was on his feet he found himself face to face with a man.

He took a step back and raised his rifle to his shoulder, when a voice said—

“Don’t fire; I am an Englishman.”

Tom lowered his rifle.

“ Who are you in this place? ” he asked in a whisper.

“I am an unfortunate man who have lived among these heathen for four months; I was the second officer of a vessel named the Black Swan, that went ashore on the south coast.”

“ Tell me, tell me,” cried Tom, grasping the man by the hand; “ my brother Geoffrey—is he alive—is he safe? ”

“ What! ” said the man; “ are you Mr. Courtland’s brother? ”

“ I am indeed. Is he safe— is he alive? ”

“ Oh,” said the man, “ he was alive last night, and as safe as any one could be among these butchers; but I can’t answer for him now. We saw the steam-launch last night, and he deter mined to make the attempt to reach it. He tried to get me to join him in the enterprise; but I knew it would only bring us to grief, and he went alone through the woods. He must have been lost, for to-day an attack was made upon the launch, and he was not aboard. I have been made a slave of by these people, and was brought with the attacking party to cariy part of the spoil for them.”

“But the crew of the launch, surely they fought?” cried Tom.

“I could not believe that they were British seamen,” said the mate of the Black Swan. “ They never struck a blow when the attack was made; they seemed to hold a council among themselves, and every man Jack of them cleared off ashore, taking their guns with them, but leaving the craft to be pillaged by the blacks. Do you call that conduct worthy of British seamen, sir? I certainly don’t.”

“ I would not have believed it,” said Tom. “ But about my brother. Will he return to the village when he finds the launch in the possession of the natives, do you think? ”

“ If he does it will only be to meet his death. They murder every slave who attempts to escape. But how is it that you got away from them, sir, when your companions were captured? ”

Tom explained that he had wandered away, and had remained by the tomb of the captain of the Black Swan.

“ Poor fellow! ” said the mate. “ He was wounded by an arrow at Yule Island, and never recovered—he had no chance the way he was treated coming up here. He died only two days ago. I must now return to the chief, whose slave I am, or I shall be missed. I only came out of the village for a cocoa-nut.”

“ What can we do to rescue ourselves and our two countrymen?” asked Tom, wondering at the stolid manner of the man.

“ We can do nothing. What use would it be to us to get free? We should be lost and starved in the forest, as your brother was.”

“Man!” said Tom, shaking him to try and rouse him from the condition into which he had fallen—“man, my brother is not lost, and, with God to help us, we shall all be saved.”

“You know nothing of the people you are among, or the country that you have been fool enough to come to,” said the man, in the same stolid fashion. “We’re all doomed men, sir— all doomed men.”

While they were talking in whispers, the shouting and the laughter around the fire were louder than ever. Looking under one of the houses that was raised about six feet from the, ground, Tom saw that the chief was breaking open, with a stone hatchet, the tins of preserved meat that had been stolen from the launch. Each tin was placed on a large stone near the fire, and the lid was smashed in by a few strokes of the hatchet.

But when the chief brought forward a tin that was smaller but much heavier than the others, a shout came from Mr. Phipson—a shout of desperation. In a moment Tom had rushed round, but outside the houses of course, to where his friends were lying. He expected to find them being butchered, but not one of the natives was near them; all were yelling round the fire, with pieces of the preserved meat in their hands.

Tom crept quite close to the bound men; but from beneath one of the houses a native sprang up with his hand on his bow. Before he could draw an arrow from his belt Tom had clubbed his rifle, and brought it down with a crash upon the man’s face, felling him to the ground. At the sound both prisoners looked up and recognized Tom.

“ Tom! Tom! for your life, fly, my lad—fly and save yourself. They are about to break up a tin case of dynamite! ”

Before Mr. Phipson’s words had been fully gasped out, Tom had rushed forward with his knife in his hand. Two quick strokes were enough to sever the bonds of both the captives. In another moment the four white men had plunged into the thickest part of the forest, running for their lives, tumbling every dozen yards over the tangled trailers and the dense undergrowth. But before they had gone more than a couple of hundred yards they were all flung to the earth by another force. There came a terrific sound as of a thunder-clap— the forest was shaken to its inmost depths; branches were wrenched off thick trees and flung yards away; and amid the crashing of the timber of the houses of the village came the shrieks of wounded men, and the cries of the birds overhead, and of the wild animals at the deepest part of the forest. The catastrophe which Mr. Phipson had expected had come to pass. The savages had exploded the cases of dynamite which they had taken with the other tins from the launch.

CHAPTER XXXV.
THE STRANGER IN THE LAUNCH.

IT was some time before the refugees had recovered themselves. The violence of the explosion had thrown them to the ground with such force they were all more or less bruised. When they succeeded in raising themselves a deathly silence reigned over the forest.

Mr. Phipson was the first to speak.

“ I reckon,” he said, “ we can return now to the village. No one there will raise any objection, that we can’t overcome by persuasion, to our entrance. The only difficulty would be to find out the place where the village stood. Mother of Roger Bacon! a good many constitutions broke up all of a sudden in that happy village square. How do you feel, my lads ?"

“I don’t know how I feel,” said Fitzgerald. “Where am I? How did I come here? Oh, I have had a horrible dream l ”

“ There’s not much the matter with you,” said Mr. Phipson, decisively. “ The man that fancies a smashed head is a dream won’t die just immediately. How is Tom, our deliverer, and—Who on airth are you? ” The last sentence was addressed to the mate of the Black Swan.

“ I’m in the same boat as yourself, sir,” said the mate. “ I heard you shout ‘ dynamite,’ and I ran when you all ran.”

“All things considered, I believe you were right,” said Mr. Phipson. “ Unless a man had a special engagement there, he’d be a fool to have waited. Well, I suppose we may go back and see if there’s anybody hurt.”

“ No, no,” cried Tom; “ don’t let us return; you don’t know what may happen. We can gain nothing by returning. Let us hasten down to the shore if we can find the way. The moon will shortly be up, and we can have no difficulty in reaching the shore.”

“I know the track only too well,” said Mr. Borrowdaile. “I have trodden it only too often.’

“ Lead on, then,” cried Mr. Phipson, “ and play up ‘ Home, sweet Home ’ kinder gently.”

But before they had risen from the ground they were startled by the sound of a gun and a long shout as of sailors hauling a brace.

“ What’s the meaning of that, now? ” said Mr.

Phipson. “ Who can have a gun in that part of the forest? ”

Tom was on his feet in a moment, discharging both barrels of his rifle, and then the party shouted simultaneously. An answering shout was returned to them, and then through the trees there gleamed the light of a lantern, like a gigantic firefly.

When it approached them, the voice of Mr. Gulbrandsen was heard, crying, “ Are all safe? Is nobody hurt? ”

The Norwegian came upon the scene with Joey and one of the hands of the launch by his side.

“My son,” said Mr. Phipson, "when a number J pounds of dynamite explode in the middle of a large assemblage there’s usually some one hurt. We’re not, however, only for a few contusions—a skull broken here and there, and a rib or two turned inside to study the anatomy of the human frame. But give an account of yourself, my friend. I reckon you allowed the launch to be plundered pretty freely.”

“ Yes,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen. “ Ven I found zat instead of you returning in ze punt, a hundred savages came to attack ze launch, I knew you had fallen into zare hands. I did not strike a blow, but took my men ashore by ze trunk of a fallen tree vere ve had made fast ze bows, knowing very veil zat if I didn’t let ze boat be pillaged I would have no chance of being able to follow ze natives to your rescue."

“You’re a smart man, after all,” said Mr. Phipson. “ I couldn’t have done better myself. Now, if there’s anything to eat or drink in that parcel that Joey carries so lovingly, I’ll make you all Knights of the Garter.”

“You’re right, boss,” said Joey. “We didn’t let the savages run away with everything. This is beef and that is brandy,”

“Joey,” cried Mr. Phipson, “I respect you more highly every day.”

A hurried meal was taken by the four men, who had not tasted food for fifteen hours; and without returning to view the devastation produced by the explosion, the party, led by Mr. Borrowdaile, went by the forest track down to the shore.

Mr. Phipson was more talkative than ever going through the wood, but Tom had no word to say after he had told how he had witnessed the capture of his companions in the morning. The truth was that he was thinking how few were the chances of discovering Geoffrey.

After they had walked for about an hour, Mr. Borrowdaile said they were within a short distance of the river; but he had no sooner spoken than the sound of a shot was heard in the distance directly in front of them.

“ Zat is ze engineer who is hidden vit ze oder hands among ze trees of ze island, firing a signal, tinking zat ve should be about returning.”

“ Let us hasten on, then,” cried Tom; and the whole party broke into a trot, for the ground was moderately clear of jungle plants.

It was not until some time after they had gained the river-bank that they could understand the meaning of the scene that was being enacted before them.

The tropical moonlight made the night as clear as if the morning had risen, and thus the party, standing on the river-bank, could see that steam had been got up aboard the launch. The little craft was moving up the middle of the river, followed by three canoes full of natives, who, with wild cries, discharged countless arrows against the shielding that had been put in its proper place. The first canoe was gaining upon the little steamer, when suddenly a shot from the stern sounded and the natives were struggling in the water. The second canoe had paused at this catastrophe, and the people aboard were evidently of the belief that it would be well to sheer off.

“ Give me that rifle,” said Mr. Phipson tc Joey. “I couldn’t return home without having a shot at those demons.”

Joey handed over the gun with a grin. Mr.

Phipson raised it to his shoulder, but before the bullet had struck the side the terrified blacks had leaped overboard, and were swimming to the furthest bank, when suddenly two of them were seen to throw up their arms and sink with loud shrieks.

“I know’em,” said Joey; “that’s a boss crocodile.”

The men in the third canoe paddled for their lives down the river, and, getting into the current, were soon swept out of sight “ Hurrah! ” cried Mr. Phipson; “ the Stars and Stripes are once more victorious.”

“ I knew zat ze engineer would be able to recover ze launch,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen. “ He is running ze boat as close to ze shore as possible.”

The launch had been put about and was being steered close to the bank where her captain and owner were standing.

“ Bravo, Horton! ” cried Mr. Phipson, jumping up to his knees in the mud in his eagerness to compliment the engineer. “ Bravo, Horton! I knew you had it in you,” he cried again, removing the wooden shielding from the stern. “ Bravo— Why, who on airth are you?—you don’t belong to my crew.”

A figure rose up from the stern—the figure of a man, bareheaded, with long matted hair, and tattered garments.

“ I hope you will allow me to become one of your crew, sir,” said this stranger. “ I am an Englishman; my name is Geoffrey Courtland.” There was a wild shout of delight on the bank at the sound of the voice aboard the launch. Tom had leaped upon the gunwale, and his arms were about his brother’s neck.

“Jeff, old fellow—dear old Jeif!”

“Tom! Thank God, thank God. I knew you wouldn’t forsake me, old fellow! ”

Mr. Phipson turned away. By the way he used his handkerchief, he seemed to have contracted a bad cold in his head.

CHAPTER XXXVI.
CONCLUSION.

ALL that remains to be told of the adventures of the Search Expedition of the schooner Primrose will not take long in telling.

When Tom Courtland had ended his greeting of his brother, he “ passed him round,” in compliance with Mr. Phipson's request, and Barry Fitzgerald had the satisfaction of once more shaking his old friend by the hand. Poor Geoffrey was quite overcome with the joy of the hour. His sufferings at the hands of the natives had been terrible since leaving Yule Island, and having escaped and taken to the forest, as Mr. Borrowdaile told Tom, the previous day, he was also weakened by the want of food.

“ And that poltroon Gulbrandsen has allowed every tin of meat to be carried off,” said Mr. Phipson.

The Norwegian made no reply; he smiled, and, dragging away most of the logs that had been cut for the day’s fuel, disclosed a quantity of stores.

“You tink I vas such a fool as to let dem have everyting? ” he said.

“ You are not a fool, Gulbrandsen,” said Mr. Phipson. “You are not a nice man, but you are no fool But what I want to know is how did the engineer, after getting up steam, leave you alone in the launch to be murdered by those heathen? ”

“ I fear that I was guilty of piracy,” said Geoffrey. “The fact is, I found my way down to the river and waited until I had seen the launch pillaged by the natives. When they had deserted the craft I seized my opportunity, swam out to her, and being an amateur engineer myself I was able to get up steam without delay. I had scarcely done so, however, when the natives of a village higher up the river attacked me in their canoes, but fortunately I found this heavy rifle in the locker under this beam, which the natives had not displaced, and—”

“Just so,” said Mr. Phipson. “We saw how you amused yourself with the canoe-folk just by way of wiling away the time. But we have yet to find the engineer and the rest of the ship’s company. Have you stowed them under any logs, Gulbrandsen, until we should need them? ”

“I have,” said Mr. Gulbrandsen. “Zey are stowed among ze living logs on ze island. I gave zem stores enough to last zem a week, and cartridges enough to sink all ze canoes on ze river.”

. “ Well, I reckon we had better pick them up and get under way,” said the American; “unless,” he added, with a smile—“ unless our friend Tom here has notions of settling down in this lovely locality.”

“No,” said Tom, quietly, “I’ve no desire to settle down here; but it seems a great pity, Mr. Phipson, to leave a hundred millions of tons of gold up there, doesn’t it? ”

“Full speed ahead, Gulbrandsen!” shouted Mr. Phipson, as the rest of the party, who were aware of the American’s aspirations, burst out laughing.

The island was first steered for by the launch, and here the engineer and the remainder of the launch’s company were picked up.

Without the delay of an hour, the return voyage to the Primrose was commenced. There was no need to economize the coal now, so the steaming capabilities of the little craft were displayed to their utmost. Though several attacks were made upon her by warlike canoes, she scorned even to notice them, and they generally found it prudent to give her a wide berth. In half the space of time that had been occupied going up the river, the return voyage was made, and the schooner was found safe in her natural dock.

Though both Geoffrey and the mate of the Black Swan were weak almost to the point of death during the few days of the run in the launch, yet before they had been a week at sea on the voyage to Sydney in the schooner, they had almost recovered from the effects of their terrible sufferings among the natives.

One of the first persons who boarded the Primrose on her arrival at Sydney was Captain Rogers, who had obtained command of a fine steamer—the first of a line which the owners of the Titania were about establishing. It is unnecessary to say that both the captain and the boatswain, who was also in the steamer, greeted the rescued and the rescuers with enthusiasm.

Geoffrey, in answer to the captain’s inquiries, told him what he had previously made known to Tom and the Primrose company, that after he had thrown the bottle containing the message overboard from the Black Swan, the boat which had left the vessel had been seen to founder by the captain, the second mate, and Geoffrey, and all hands were lost. It was found possible to stop the leak in a temporary fashion, and then the three persons who were aboard endeavoured to navigate the ship to Cape York. She had, however, been carried northward by the current, and had gone ashore in the monsoon at Yule Island. Here the survivors had been kindly treated by the natives, and would have been found by the Search Expedition but for the descent of the head-hunters from the interior. In the fight, the captain was unfortunately wounded by an arrow, and he had died, as Mr. Borrowdaile had told Tom, a few days before the arrival of the launch up the river.

At Sydney, Tom, Geoffrey, and Fitzgerald said good-bye to Mr. Phineas F. Phipson, but not before he had offered them shares in a new expedition to the island in search of the gold which he declared was waiting for them.

“Think over it, my lads,” he said. “ Such an offer doesn’t come every day. I’m making you a present of a million of pounds apiece. Mother of the Bank of England! think of a million of money.”

“Ye don’t know what’s before ye! Ye don’t know what’s before ye! ” cried Finn Mac-Coul, whose cage had been safely hung in the state-room aboard Captain Rogers’ steamer, which was at the point of sailing for England, with the two brothers and Fitzgerald aboard.

The young men thanked Mr. Phipson for his offer, and promised to give it their earnest consideration.

The meeting of Mr. and Mrs. Courtland and their sons cannot be described, but it was not more affecting than the meeting of Mr. Borrowdaile and his wife and children. It is unnecessary to dwell upon the happiness brought to both households. It is only necessary to say that a month after the return of the party to England, Bertha Courtland redeemed the promise she had made to Fitzgerald. They were married in the village church at Utterport, and “at the same time and place,” as the newspapers put it, Grace Marchmont became the wife of Geoffrey Courtland.

Among the people of the fishing village who were outside the porch waiting to welcome the wedding party, the most enthusiastic was undoubtedly old Peter, who took to himself all the credit for organizing the expedition that had resulted in the rescue of the survivors of the Black Swan,

THE END.