“Are you alone, Bill—­or who have you for companions?”

“There’s two on us, sir, only—­Jim Wattles and I—­seven on us was saved in the launch; Mr. Hillson and the supercargo both dying afore we reached the land, as did the other man, we seven still living, though only two on us is here.”

“Are there any black fellows with you?—­Any of the natives?”

“Not one, sir.  We gave ’em the slip two hours ago, or as soon as we saw the ship’s masts, being bent on getting afloat in some craft or other, in preference to stopping with savages any longer.  No, Mr. Woolston; no fear of them to-night, for they are miles and miles to leeward, bothered in the channels, where they’ll be pretty sartain to pass the night; though you’ll hear from ’em in the morning.  Jim and I took to our land tacks, meeting with a good opportunity, and by running directly in the wind’s eye, have come out here.  We hid ourselves till the canoes was out of sight, and then we carried sail as hard as we could.  So give us a cast and take us aboard the old ship again, Mr. Woolston, if you love a fellow-creatur’, and an old shipmate in distress.”

Such was the singular dialogue which succeeded the unexpected hail.  It completely put a new face on things at the Reef.  As Brown was a valuable man, and one whose word he had always relied on, Mark did not hesitate, but told him the direction to the bridge, where he and Betts met him and Wattles, after each of the parties had believed the others to be dead now fully three years!

The two recovered seamen of the Rancocus were alone, having acted in perfect good faith with their former officer, who led them to the awning, gave them some refreshment, and heard their story.  The account given by Jones, for the first time that very day, turned out to be essentially true.  When the launch was swept away from the ship, it drove down to leeward, passing at no great distance from the crater, of which the men in her got a glimpse, without being able to reach it.  The attention of Hillson was mainly given to keeping the boat from filling or capsizing; and this furnished abundance of occupation.  The launch got into one of the channels, and by observing the direction, which was nearly east and west, it succeeded in passing through all the dangers, coming out to leeward of the shoals.  As everybody believed that the ship was hopelessly lost, no effort was made to get back to the spot where she had been left.  No island appearing, Hillson determined to run off to the westward, trusting to fall in with land of some sort or other.  The provisions and water were soon consumed, and then came the horrors usual to such scenes at sea.  Hillson was one of the first that perished, his previous excesses unfitting him to endure privation.  But seven survived when the launch reached an island in Waally’s part of the group, so often mentioned.  There they fell into the hands of that turbulent and warlike chief.  Waally made the seamen his slaves, treating