the fortunes of gaff and billy continued.

now, while the bottle was making its long voyage, stephen gaff and his son billy were exposed to the vicissitudes of strange and varied fortune.

we left them sound asleep in the stern of the little boat, tossed on the troubled breast of the pacific.

they never knew how long they slept on that occasion, but when they awoke the sun was high in the heavens, and the breeze had considerably abated.

gaff was the first to shake off the lethargy that had oppressed him. gazing round for some time, he seemed to hesitate whether he should lie down again, and looked earnestly once or twice in the face of his slumbering boy.

“’tis pity to rouse him,” he muttered, “but i think we must ha’ had a long sleep, for i feel rested like. hallo, billy boy, how are ’ee?”

billy did not respond to the greeting. indeed, he refused to be moved by means of shouts of any kind, and only consented to wake up when his father took him by the coat-collar with both hands, and shook him so violently that it seemed as if his head were about to fall off.

“hallo! faither,” he cried in a sleepy voice, “wot’s up?”

“ha! you’re roused at last, lad, come, it’s time to have a bit breakfast. it ain’t a heavy un you’ll git, poor boy, but ’tis better than nothin’, and bigger men have throve upon less at times.”

billy was awake and fully alive to his position by this time. he was much depressed. he would have been more than mortal had he been otherwise, but he resolved to shake off the feeling, and face his fortune like a man.

“come along, daddy, let’s have a spell at the oars before breakfast.”

“no, lad, take a bit first,” said gaff, opening the sack which contained the biscuit, and carefully measuring out two small portions of the crumbs. one of the portions was rather larger than the other. billy observed this, and stoutly refused to take his share when stephen pushed the larger portion towards him.

“no, daddy,” said he, “you’re not a fair divider.”

“am i not, lad?” said stephen meekly. “i thought i’d done it pretty eekal.”

“no, my half is the biggest, so you’ll have to take some of it back.”

gaff refused, but billy insisted, and a small piece of the precious biscuit was finally put back into the bag. the meal was then eaten with much display of satisfaction by father and son, (a blessing having been first asked on it), and it was prolonged as much as possible in order to encourage the idea that it was not such a small one after all.

billy had not been particular as to his crusts and fragments of victuals in days of yore, but it was wonderful how sharp his eye was on this occasion to note and pick up every minute crumb, and transfer it to his hungry mouth.

“now, daddy, i’m ready.”

he swelled out his little chest, and gave it a sounding thump as he rose, and, rolling up his shirt-sleeves to the shoulder, seized an oar. gaff took the other, and both sat down to the slow, dreary, monotonous toil of another day.

at first the bu’ster was chatty, but by degrees his tongue flagged, and ere long it became quite silent.

for six or eight hours they pulled without intermission, except for a few minutes at a time, every hour or so, and gaff directed the boat’s head in the direction to which the captain had pointed when he said the land might be about five hundred miles off.

when the sun was getting low on the horizon, billy stopped with a sigh—

“ain’t it time for dinner, daddy, d’ye think?”

“hold on a bit, lad, i’m goin’ to let ye tak’ a sleep soon, an’ it’ll be best to eat just afore lyin’ down.”

no more was said, and the rowing was continued until the sun had set, and the shades of night were beginning to descend on the sea.

“now, lad, we’ll sup,” said stephen, with a hearty air, as he pulled in his oar.

“hooray!” cried billy faintly, as he jumped up and went to the stern, where his father soon produced the biscuit-bag and measured out the two small portions.

“cheatin’ again, daddy,” cried the bu’ster with a remonstrative tone and look.

“no, i ain’t,” said gaff sharply, “eat yer supper, you scamp.”

billy obeyed with alacrity, and disposed of his portion in three mouthfuls. there was a small quantity of rain-water—about half a pint—which had been collected and carefully husbanded in the baling-dish. it was mingled with a little spray, and was altogether a brackish and dirty mixture, nevertheless they drank it with as much relish as if it had been clear spring water.

“now, boy, turn in,” said gaff earnestly; “you’ll need all the sleep ye can git, for, if i know the signs of the sky, we’ll have more wind afore long.”

poor billy was too tired to make any objection to this order, so he laid his head on a fold of the wet sail, and almost immediately fell asleep.

gaff was right in his expectation of more wind. about two hours after sunset it came on to blow so stiffly that he was obliged to awaken billy and set him to bale out the sprays that kept constantly washing over the gunwale. towards midnight a gale was blowing, and gaff put the boat before the wind, and drove with it.

hour after hour passed away; still there was no abatement in the violence of the storm, and no relaxation from baling and steering, which the father and son took alternately every half hour.

at last billy’s strength was fairly exhausted. he flung down the baling-dish, and, sitting down beside his father, laid his head on his breast, and burst into tears. the weakness, (for such billy deemed it), only lasted a few moments however. he soon repressed his sobs.

“my poor boy,” said gaff, patting his son’s head, “it’ll be soon over wi’ us, i fear. may the good lord help us! the boat can’t float long wi’ such sprays washin’ over her.”

billy said nothing, but clung closer to his father, while his heart was filled with solemn, rather than fearful, thoughts of death.

their danger of swamping now became so imminent that gaff endeavoured to prepare his mind to face the last struggle manfully. he was naturally courageous, and in the heat of action or of battle could have faced death with a smile and an unblanched cheek; but he found it much more difficult to sit calmly in the stern of that little boat hour after hour, and await the blow that seemed inevitable. he felt a wild, almost irresistible, desire to leap up and vent his feelings in action of some kind, but this was not possible, for it required careful attention to the helm to prevent the little craft from broaching-to and upsetting. in his extremity he raised his heart to god in prayer.

while he was thus engaged the roar of the storm increased to such a degree that both father and son started up in expectation of instantaneous destruction. a vivid flash of lightning glared over the angry sea at the moment, and revealed to their horrified gaze a reef of rocks close ahead, on which the waves were breaking with the utmost fury. instant darkness followed the flash, and a deafening peal of thunder joined in the roar of breakers, intensifying, if possible, the terrors of the situation.

gaff knew now that the crisis had certainly arrived, and for the next few moments he exerted every power of eye and ear in order to guide the boat into a channel between the breakers—if such existed.

“jump for’ard, lad,” he shouted, “and keep yer eye sharp ahead.”

billy obeyed at once, with the seamanlike “ay, ay, sir,” which he had acquired on board the whaler.

“port, port! hard-a-port!” shouted the boy a moment after taking his place in the bow.

“port it is,” answered gaff.

before the boat had time, however, to answer the helm, she was caught on the crest of a breaker, whirled round like a piece of cork, and, balancing for one moment on the foam, capsized.

the moment of hesitation was enough to enable gaff to spring to his son’s side and seize him. next instant they were buffeting the waves together.

it is not necessary to remind the reader that gaff was an expert swimmer. billy was also first-rate. he was known among his companions as the cork, because of his floating powers, and these stood him in good stead at this time, enabling him to cling to his father much more lightly than would have been the case had he not been able to swim.

at first they found it impossible to do more than endeavour to keep afloat, for the surging of the breakers was so great, and the darkness so intense, that they could not give direction to their energies. but the increasing roar of the surf soon told them that they were near the rocks, and in a few seconds they were launched with tremendous force amongst them.

well was it for them at that moment that the wave which bore them on its crest swept them through a gap in the reef, else had they been inevitably dashed to pieces. as it was, they were nearly torn asunder, and gaff’s shoulder just grazed a rock as he was whirled past it; but in a few seconds they found themselves in comparatively still water, and felt assured that they had been swept through an opening in the reef. presently gaff touched a rock and grasped it.

“hold on, billy my lad!” he exclaimed breathlessly, “we’ll be safe ashore, please god, in a short bit.”

“all right, daddy,” gasped the boy; for to say truth, the whirling in the foam had well-nigh exhausted him.

soon the two were out of the reach of the waves, clinging to what appeared to be the face of a precipice. here, although safe from the actual billows, they were constantly drenched by spray, and exposed to the full fury of the gale. at first they attempted to scale the cliff, supposing that if once at the top they should find shelter; but this proved to be impossible. equally impossible was it to get round the promontory on which they had been cast. they were therefore compelled to shelter themselves as they best might, in the crevices of the exposed point, and cling to each other for warmth.

it was a long long night to those castaways. minutes appeared to pass like hours, and it seemed to them as if night had finally and for ever settled down on the dreary world. the wind too, although not very cold, was sufficiently so to chill them, and long before day began to break they were so much benumbed as to be scarcely able to maintain their position.

during all this time they were harassed by uncertainty as to the nature of the rock on which they were cast. it might be a mere barren islet, perhaps one which the sea covered at high-water, in which case there was the possibility of their being swept away before morning.

when morning came, however, it revealed to them the fact that they were upon a small promontory, which was connected by a narrow neck of sand with the land.

as soon as the light rendered this apparent, gaff put his hand on billy’s head and spoke softly to him—

“now then, lad, look up—ye an’t sleepin’, sure, are ye?”

“no, daddy, only dozin’ and dreamin’,” said billy, rousing himself.

“well, we must stop dreamin’, and git ashore as fast as we can. i think there’s dry land all the way to the beach; if not, it’ll only be a short swim. whether it’s an island or what, i don’t know; but let’s be thankful, boy, that it looks big enough to hold us. come, cheer up!”

to this billy replied that he was quite jolly, and ready for anything; and, by way of proving his fitness for exertion, began to crawl over the rocks like a snail!

“that’ll never do,” said gaff with a short laugh; “come, wrestle with me, youngster.”

the bu’ster accepted the challenge at once by throwing his arms round his father’s waist, and endeavouring to throw him. gaff resisted, and the result was that, in ten minutes or so, they were comparatively warm, and capable of active exertion.

then they clambered over the rocks, traversed the neck of sand, and quickly gained the shore.

ascending the cliffs with eager haste, they reached the summit just as the sun rose and tinged the topmost pinnacles with a golden hue. pushing on towards an elevated ridge of rock, they climbed to the top of a mound, from which they could obtain a view of the surrounding country, and then they discovered that their place of refuge was a small solitary island, in the midst of the boundless sea.