the coral island—proceedings therein.

the island on which the raft with its occupants had been cast was of small size, not more than six miles in extent, and lay low in the water. nevertheless it was covered with luxuriant vegetation, among which were several groves of cocoa-nut palms, the long feathery branches of which waved gracefully in a gentle breeze, as if beckoning an invitation to the castaways on the reef to cross the lagoon and find shelter there. but crossing the lagoon was not an easy matter.

“shure it’s a mile wide if it’s a futt,” said one of the men as they stood in a group on the reef, dripping and gazing at the isle.

“no, simon o’rook,” said bob corkey, in that flat contradictions way to which some men are prone; “no, it’s only half a mile if it’s an inch.”

“you’re wrong, both of you,” said baldwin burr, “it ain’t more than quarter of a mile. quite an easy swim for any of us.”

“except my polly,” observed the captain quietly.

“ay, and those who are too weak to swim,” said watty wilkins, with a glance at his friend ben, who had lain down on the sand and listened with a calm untroubled look to the conversation.

“you don’t seem at all anxious,” whispered polly to ben.

“no, polly, i’m not. i have lately been taught how to trust in god by your example.”

“by mine!” exclaimed the child in extreme surprise.

before ben could reply the captain turned and called to polly.

“come here, my duckey; edwin jack offers to swim over the lagoon to the island with you on his back. will you trust yourself to him?”

“yes, father,” answered the child promptly.

“but maybe there are sharks,” suggested o’rook.

there was a momentary silence. in the excitement of the occasion every one had forgotten sharks. what was to be done? the raft was utterly destroyed. only a few of the logs which had formed it lay on the reef; the rest were floating on the lagoon at various distances, none nearer than fifty yards.

“there’s nothing for it, then, but to reconstruct our raft,” said the captain, throwing off his coat and shoes; “so these logs must be secured.”

he had only taken two steps towards the water when philosopher jack grasped his arm.

“stop, sir, it is your duty to look after polly. now lads, those who can swim come along!”

another instant and he was in the sea, regardless of sharks, and striking out for the floating wreckage, closely followed by o’rook, corkey, burr, and watty wilkins. strange to say, eight other men of the crew could not swim, although they had managed somehow to scramble on the reef. whether it was that the sharks were not there at the time, or that the number and energy of the swimmers frightened them, we cannot tell, but each man reached a log or plank in safety, and began pushing it towards the reef. it was when they drew near to this that the trial of their courage was most severe. the excitement and gush of daring with which they had plunged in was by that time expended, and the slow motion of the logs gave them time for reflection. o’rook’s lively fancy troubled him much.

“if the baists would only attack a man in front,” he muttered, “it’s little i’d mind ’em, but to come up behind, sneakin’ like—hooroo!”

at that moment a branch of coral, which projected rather far from the bottom, touched o’rook’s toe and drew from him an uncontrollable yell of alarm. baldwin burr, who swam close behind, was humorously inclined as well as cool. he pushed the plank he was guiding close to his comrade’s back, dipped the end of it, and thrust it down on o’rook’s legs.

the effect was even more powerful than he had hoped for.

“a shark!—a sha-a-a-rk!” howled o’rook, and dived under the broken main-yard, which he was piloting ashore. coming up on the other side, he tried to clamber on it, but it rolled round and dropped him. he went down with a gurgling cry. again he rose, grasped the spar with his left arm, glared wildly round, and clenched his right hand as if ready to hit on the nose any creature—fish, flesh, or fowl—that should assail him.

“take it easy, messmate,” said burr in a quiet tone; “sorry i touched you. hope it didn’t hurt much.”

“och! it was you, was it? sure, i thought it was a shark; well, well, it’s plaised i am to be let off so aisy.”

with this philosophic reflection o’rook landed with his piece of timber. enough of material was soon collected to form a raft sufficiently large to ferry half of the party across the lagoon, and in two trips the whole were landed in safety on the island.

“you don’t mean to tell me, jack,” said baldwin burr, “that this island was made by coral insects?”

“yes, i do!” said jack.

“from the top to the bottom?” asked burr.

“from the bottom to the top,” said edwin.

baldwin asked this question of the philosopher during a pause in their labours. they were, at the time, engaged in constructing a new bower for polly among the flowering shrubs under the cocoa-nut palms. polly herself was aiding them, and the rest of the party were scattered among the bushes, variously employed in breaking down branches, tearing up long grass, and otherwise clearing ground for an encampment.

“how could insects make an island?” asked polly, sitting down on a bank to rest.

“don’t you know, poll?” said edwin; “why, i thought your father taught you about almost everything.”

“oh no,” replied polly, with an innocent smile, “not everything yet, you know, but i daresay he will in the course of time. tell me about the insects.”

“well, let me see, how shall i begin?” said jack, leaning against the bank, and crossing his arms on his breast. “the coral insects, polly, are very small, some of them not larger than a pin’s head. they are great builders. there is lime in sea-water. the insects, which are called corallines, have the power of attracting this lime to them; drawing it away from the water, so to speak, and fixing it round their own bodies, which is called secreting the lime. thus they form shells, or houses, to themselves, which they fix at the bottom of the sea. having laid the basements of their houses close together, they proceed to add upper storeys, and thus they add storey to storey, until they reach the surface of the sea. they work in such innumerable millions that, in course of time, they form reefs and islands, as you see.”

“but i don’t see!” said polly, looking round; “at least, i don’t see corallines working.”

“ah, good,” said baldwin, with a nod of approval to the child, as if to say, “you have him there!”

“true,” returned the philosopher, “because the corallines can only work under water. the moment they reach the surface they die; but those that remain continue their labours on the sides of the reef or island, and thus widen it. then the waves break off masses of coral, and cast them, with drifting sea-weed and other things, up on the reef, which makes it higher; then sea-birds come to rest on it. the winds carry seeds of various plants to it, which take root, grow up, die; and thus thicken the soil by slow degrees, till at last, after a long, long time, the island becomes a pretty large and fertile one like this.”

“wonderful!” exclaimed polly; “what a clever insect!”

“clever indeed,” returned edwin; “especially when we consider that it has got no brains.”

“no brains!” echoed baldwin.

“no, it has little more than a stomach.”

“oh! come now,” remonstrated baldwin; “we can’t believe that, can we, miss polly? even a house-builder must think, much more an island-builder; and no fellow can think with his stomach, you know.”

“nevertheless, it is as i tell you,” continued jack, “and these little creatures manage to create hundreds of islands in the southern seas, by their perseverance, energy, and united action. quite an example to man—eh, baldwin?”

“ha! just so—a long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull all together. i think we’d better act on the principles of these corry-lines, else miss polly’s bower won’t be ready afore dark.”

so saying, the seaman and our philosopher resumed their work with such united energy—aided by polly herself—that a very comfortable habitation of boughs and large leaves was finished before the day closed. it resembled a large beehive, was overshadowed by dense foliage of a tropical kind, and carpeted with a species of fern.

polly was profuse in her thanks, and when it was finished, called to her father to come and admire it. the stout mariner at once obeyed the summons. he quitted the pile of firewood on which he had been labouring, and with a violently red face and perspiring brow, appeared on the scene, bearing a mighty axe on his shoulder.

“splendid!” he exclaimed, with beaming admiration. “it’s fit for the queen of the coral isles.”

“for whom it is intended!” said philosopher jack, quickly.

polly laughed, for she understood the compliment, but suddenly became grave, as she remembered ben trench, and said, “no, no; it must be used as a shelter for ben.”

“that’s kind of you, polly,” said watty coming up with a huge bundle of grass and foliage for bedding at the moment; “but ben has got friends to remember him as well as you. bob corkey and i have made him a hut on the other side of the bushes—there, you may see the top of it through the leaves.”

“does any one know where mr luke is?” asked the captain.

none of those assembled at the bower had seen him for some hours, and captain samson was on the point of organising a party to go in search of him, when one of the crew came in from the bush and said he had gone off with simon o’rook to the highest point of the low islet, to ascertain if possible its extent.

“he’s all right if o’rook is with him,” said the captain to polly, in confidence, when they went into the bower together; “but he’s not to be trusted away by himself. i never saw a man more unfit to look after himself.”

“and yet he is a good, kind man, father,” said polly.

“true, quite true, poll,” replied the captain, musingly. “i wonder why it is that some men seem as if they had been meant for women; maybe it is by way of balancing those women who seem to have been meant for men!”

polly listened to this with a look of grave consideration, but not having formed an opinion on the subject, wisely held her tongue.

meanwhile o’rook led his companion towards the highest part of the islet, which, being clear of trees, seemed likely to afford them a good outlook. the sailor was a man of inquiring disposition, and, being of a free-and-easy nature, did not hesitate to speak out his mind on all occasions. after walking beside his tall companion and eyeing his thin figure and sad countenance in silence for some time, he said—

“you’re a cadaverous sort o’ man, mr luke.”

“think so?” said mr luke, gently.

“of course; i can’t help thinkin’ so, because i see it,” returned o’rook. “was it a fall, now, w’en you was a babby, that did it, or measles?”

“neither, that i am aware of,” replied mr luke, with a good-natured smile; “my father before me was cadaverous.”

“ah!” said o’rook, with a look of sympathy, as he touched the region of his heart with his left thumb, “p’r’aps it was somethin’ o’ this sort, eh? i’ve bin through that myself in the ould country, where as purty a—well, well, it’s all over now, but i’ve a fellow-feelin’ for—”

“no,” interrupted mr luke, with a sigh, “it wasn’t a disappointment, it was—oh! what a splendid view!”

they had reached the top of the ridge at the moment, and the view of the verdant islet that burst upon them might well have called forth admiration from men of coarser mould than they.

o’rook forgot for a few minutes the subject of his curiosity, and compared the prospect to some of the beautiful scenery of ireland, though there was no resemblance whatever between the two. he soon returned, however, to the previous subject of conversation, but mr luke had ceased to be communicative.

“what is that lying on the beach there?” he said, pointing in the direction referred to.

“it’s more than i can tell,” answered o’rook; “looks like a boat, don’t it?”

“very,” said mr luke, “and there is something lying beside it like a man. come, let’s go see.”

the two explorers went rapidly down the gentle slope that led to the beach, and soon found that the object in question was indeed a boat, old, rotten, and blistered with the sun. beside it lay the skeleton of a man, with a few rags of the garments that had once formed its clothing still clinging to it here and there. it was a pitiful sight. evidently the unfortunate man had been cast away in an open boat, and had been thrown on that beach when too much exhausted to make a last struggle for life, for there was no sign of his having wandered from the boat or cut down bushes, or attempted to make a fire. his strength had apparently enabled him to get out of the boat, that was all, and there he had lain down to die.

for some time the two wanderers stood contemplating the sight in silence, and when at length they spoke it was in low, sad tones.

“poor, poor fellow,” said mr luke, “he must have been shipwrecked, like ourselves, and cast adrift in the boat. but i wonder that he is alone; one would expect that some of his comrades must have got into the boat along with him.”

“no doubt,” said o’rook, “they was all starved at sea and throw’d overboard. come, mr luke, let’s bury him; it’s all we can do for him now.”

saying this, o’rook threw off his jacket and, with his companion’s assistance, soon scraped a hole in the sand. into this they were about to lift the skeleton, when they observed that its right hand covered a decayed remnant of rag, under which was seen a glittering substance. it turned out to be the clasp of a notebook, which, however, was so decayed and glued together that it could not be opened. o’rook therefore wrapped it in his handkerchief and put it in his pocket. then they buried the skeleton, and rolled a large mass of coral rock upon the grave to mark the spot.

a careful examination was next made of the old boat and the locality around it, but nothing whatever was found to throw light on the fate of the vessel to which the man had belonged.

returning to the encampment, o’rook and his companion found their friends busy preparing supper, which consisted of some provisions saved from the raft, and cocoa-nuts.

in a few seconds the whole party was assembled in front of polly’s bower, listening attentively, while o’rook described the discovery of the skeleton to the captain, and produced the old notebook. deep was the interest of every member of that little community as the captain attempted to open the book, and intense was the expression of disappointment on each countenance—especially on that of polly—when, after a prolonged trial, he utterly failed.

“let philosopher jack try it,” exclaimed watty wilkins eagerly.

the captain at once handed the book to jack with a smile.

“to be sure,” said he, “a philosopher ought to understand the management of books better than a skipper; but when a book is glued hard and fast like that, it may puzzle even a philosopher to master its contents.”

jack made the attempt, however. he went to work with the calm deliberation of a thorough workman. by the aid of heat and gentle friction and a little moisture, and the judicious use of a penknife, he succeeded at last in opening the book in one or two places. while he was thus engaged, the rest of the party supped and speculated on the probable contents of the book.

“here is a legible bit at last,” said jack, “but the writing is very faint. let me see. it refers to the state of the weather and the wind. the poor man evidently kept a private journal. ah! here, in the middle of the book, the damp has not had so much effect.”

as he turned and separated the leaves with great care, jack’s audience gazed at him intently and forgot supper. at last he began to read:—

“‘saturday, 4th.—have been three weeks now on short allowance. we are all getting perceptibly weaker. the captain, who is not a strong man, is sinking. the boat is overcrowded. if a gale should spring up we shall all perish. i don’t like the looks of two of the men. they are powerful fellows, and the captain and i believe them to be quite capable of murdering the most of us, and throwing us overboard to save their own lives.’

“here there is a blank,” said jack, “and the next date is the 8th, but there is no month or year given. the writing continues:—

“‘i scarce know what has passed during the last few days. it is like a horrible dream. the two men made the attempt, and killed big george, whom they feared most, because of his courage and known fidelity to the captain; but, before they could do further mischief, the second mate shot them both. the boat floats lighter now, and, through god’s mercy, the weather continues fine. our last ration was served out this morning—two ounces of biscuit each, and a wine-glass of water. sunday, 11th.—two days without food. the captain read to us to-day some chapters out of the bible, those describing the crucifixion of jesus. williams and ranger were deeply impressed, and for the first time seemed to lament their sins, and to speak of themselves as crucifiers of jesus. the captain’s voice very weak, but he is cheerful and resigned. it is evident that his trust is in the lord. he exhorts us frequently. we feel the want of water more than food. wednesday.—the captain and williams died yesterday. ranger drank sea water in desperation. he went mad soon after, and jumped overboard. we tried to save him, but failed. only three of us are left. if we don’t meet with a ship, or sight an island, it will soon be all over with us. thursday.—i am alone now. an island is in sight, but i can scarcely raise myself to look at it. i will bind this book to my hand. if any one finds me, let him send it to my beloved wife, lucy. it will comfort her to know that my last thoughts on earth were of her dear self, and that my soul is resting on my redeemer. i grow very cold and faint. may god’s best blessing rest—’”

the voice of the reader stopped suddenly, and for some moments there was a solemn silence, broken only by a sob from polly samson.

“why don’t you go on?” asked the captain.

“there is nothing more,” said jack sadly. “his strength must have failed him suddenly. it is unfortunate, for, as he has neither signed his name nor given the address of his wife, it will not be possible to fulfil his wishes.”

“maybe,” suggested o’rook, “if you open some more o’ the pages you’ll find a name somewheres.”

jack searched as well as the condition of the book would admit of and found at last the name of david ban—, the latter part of the surname being illegible. he also discovered a lump in one place, which, on being cut into, proved to be a lock of golden hair, in perfect preservation. it was evidently that of a young person.

“that’s lucy’s hair,” said o’rook promptly. “blessin’s on her poor heart! give it me, philosopher jack, as well as the book. they both belong to me by rights, ’cause i found ’em; an’ if ever i set futt in old england again, i’ll hunt her up and give ’em to her.”

as no one disputed o’rook’s claim, the book and lock of hair were handed to him.

soon afterwards polly lay down to rest in her new bower, and her father, with his men, made to themselves comfortable couches around her, under the canopy of the luxuriant shrubs.

a week passed. during that period captain samson, with polly, jack, and wilkins, walked over the island in all directions to ascertain its size and productions, while the crew of the lively poll found full employment in erecting huts of boughs and broad leaves, and in collecting cocoa-nuts and a few other wild fruits and roots.

meanwhile the bottle thrown overboard by watty wilkins, with its “message from the sea,” began a long and slow but steady voyage.

it may not, perhaps, be known to the reader that there are two mighty currents in the ocean, which never cease to flow. the heated waters of the equator flow north and south to get cooled at the poles, and then flow back again from the poles to get reheated at the equator.

the form of continents, the effect of winds, the motion of the earth, and other influences, modify the flow of this great oceanic current and produce a variety of streams. one of these streams, a warm one, passing up the coast of africa, is driven into the gulf of mexico, from which it crosses the atlantic to the west coast of britain, and is familiarly known as the gulf stream. if watty wilkins’s bottle had been caught by this stream, it would, perhaps, in the course of many months, have been landed on the west of ireland. if it had been caught by any of the other streams, it might have ended its career on the coasts of japan, australia, or any of the many “ends of the earth.” but the bottle came under a more active influence than that of the ocean streams. it was picked up, one calm day, by a british ship, and carried straight to england, where its contents were immediately put into the newspapers, and circulated throughout the land.

the effect of little wilkins’s message from the sea on different minds was various. by some it was read with interest and pathos, while others glanced it over with total indifference. but there were a few on whom the message fell like a thunderbolt, as we shall now proceed to show.