It was somewhere near mid-winter, by Mark’s calculations, when the young man commenced a new task that was of great importance to his comfort, and which might affect his future life. He had long determined to lay down a boat, one of sufficient size to explore the whole reef in, if not large enough to carry him out to sea. The dingui was altogether too small for labour; though exceedingly useful in its way, and capable of being managed even in pretty rough water by a skilful hand, it wanted both weight and room. It was difficult to float in, even a raft of sea-weed, with so light a boat; and as for towing the raft, it was next to impossible. But the raft was unwieldy, and when loaded down, besides carrying very little for its great weight, it was very much at the mercy of the currents and waves. Then the construction of a boat was having an important purpose in view, and, in that sense, was a desirable undertaking.
Mark had learned so much in putting the pinnace together, that he believed himself equal to this new undertaking. Materials enough remained in the ship to make half-a-dozen boats, and in tumbling over the lumber he had found a quantity of stuff that had evidently been taken in with a view to repair boats, if not absolutely to construct them. A ship’s hold is such an omnium gatherum, stowage being necessarily so close, that it usually requires time for who does not know where to put his hand on everything, to ascertain how much or how little is to be found in it. Such was the fact with Mark, whose courtship and marriage


