“I will go with you, as I left a basket with some things of mine in the boat, and it will be as well to bring them up at once.”

  We therefore set off together, I having ordered Nero to stay in the cabin. On our arrival at the pool, we found the men still fast asleep; and by her directions I went into the water to the boat, and brought out a basket and a small bundle which she pointed out.

  “Shall I wake them?” said I.

  “No, no,” replied she; “so long as they sleep, they will be doing no harm. But,” said she, “we may as well take some potatoes up with us; fill both these handkerchiefs,” continued she, taking two out of the bundle. I did so, and she took one and I the other, and we returned to the cabin.

  “Are these all the birds that you have for food?” said she, looking at the pile in the cabin.

  “Yes,” replied I. “But what are we to do with the potatoes?”

  “We can roast them by the fire if we like,” said she; “but at present we had better take them into the cabin. Did you plant all these flowers and creepers which grow over the cabin?”

  “Yes,” replied I. “I was alone and had nothing to do, so I thought I would make a garden.”

  “They are very pretty. Now that I am back, you can go down to the men if you please, and tell them, when they wake up, that I wish to have the smallest of the boat’s sails, to make a screen of. Tell the mate — he is the most civil.”

  “I will,” said I. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, bring up a few more potatoes; they will let you take them if you say that I told you.”

  “Shall I take Nero with me?”

  “Yes, I do not want his company, for I am a little afraid of him.”

  I called Nero, who came after me, and went down to the pool, when I found that the men had all woke up, and were very busy, some lighting a fire, some washing potatoes, and some trying to catch the fish in the pool.

  “Oh, here he is. Come, boy, what have you got for our breakfast? We’ve been trying to catch some of these fish, but they’re as quick as eels.”

  “Nero will soon catch you what you want,” replied I. “Here, Nero, in.”

  Nero plunged in, and soon brought out a fish, and I then sent him in for another.

  “Thanks, lad,” said the mate, “that will be enough for our breakfast. That seal of yours is a handy fellow, and well trained.”

  While the other men were getting breakfast, one of them went up to Nero, I believe with the intention of making friends with him, but Nero rejected his advances, and showed his sharp teeth, snapping at him several times. The man became angry, and caught up a piece of rock to throw at the seal. He aimed at the animal’s nose, and narrowly missed hitting it. Had he done so, he would probably have killed it. This made me very angry, and I told the man not to do so again; upon this, he caught up another, and was about to throw it, when I seized him by the collar with my left hand, and with my right drawing my American knife, I threatened to stab him with it, if he attacked the beast. The man started back, and in so doing, fell over a piece of rock, on his back. This quarrel brought the mate to us, along with two or three of the men. My knife was still lifted up, when the mate said:

  “Come, my hearty, no knives, we don’t allow them. That’s not English. Put it up; no one shall hurt the beast, I promise you. Bob, you fool, why couldn’t you leave the animal alone? You forget you are among savages here.”

  At this, the other men burst out into a laugh.

  “Yes,” observed one; “I can swear, when I get back, that the natives of this island are savages, who eat raw flesh, have seals for playmates, and don’t wear clothes enough for common decency?”

  This made them laugh more, and the man who had attacked Nero, and who had got upon his legs again, joined with the others; so all was again good humour. The men sat down to their breakfast, while I examined the boat again, and afterwards asked many questions, with which they were much amused, every now and then observing, “Well, he is a savage!”

  After they had breakfasted, I made Nero catch another fish, and sent him up to the cabin with it, as I was afraid that the man might do him an injury, and then told the mate that the woman had desired me to bring up some potatoes.

  “Take them,” said he; “but you have nothing to carry them up with. Here, fill the pail, and I will go to the cabin with you.”

  “She told me that I was to ask you for a small boat’s sail, to hang up as a screen.”

  “Well, she shall have the boat’s mizen. We don’t want it. I’ll carry it up.”

  The mate threw the sail and yard over his shoulder, and followed me up to the cabin. On our arrival, we found the missionary’s wife sitting on the platform, Nero lying not far from her, with the fish beside him. The mate took off his hat, and saluted my new companion, saying, that he hoped she was comfortable last night.

  “Yes,” replied she, “as much so as I could expect; but I turned this good lad out of his cabin, which I do not wish to do again, and therefore I requested the sail for a screen. Now, John Gough, what do you intend to do?” continued she.

  The mate replied, “I came up here to see what quantity of provision the lad might have. By his account, it will not last more than a month, and it will take some time before we can reach where we are likely to fall in with any vessel. Stay here we cannot, for we shall only eat the provision and lose time; therefore the sooner we are off the better.”

  “If you take all the provision, of course you will take the lad with you?” replied she.

  “Of course we will.”

  “And my chest, and my seal?” inquired I.

  “Yes, your chest, certainly; but as for your seal, I do not know what to say to that — he will be starved in the boat, and if you give him his liberty, he will do well enough.”

  “What you say is very true,” replied the woman. “I am afraid, boy, that you will have to part with your friend. It will be better for both of you.”

  I made no reply; for it cut me to the heart to think of parting with Nero; but still I had sense enough to perceive that what they said was right.

  The mate then went into the cabin, and examined the heap of dried birds which I had collected, and having made his calculation, said that there were sufficient for three weeks, but not more.

  “And when do you think of leaving this island?” inquired the woman.

  “The day after to-morrow, if I can persuade the men, madam,” replied he; “but you know they are not very easy to manage, and very thoughtless, especially now that they have so unexpectedly fallen in with liquor.”

  “That I admit,” replied she; “but as they will probably take the liquor in the boat, that will not make so great a difference.”

  “I shall go down and speak to them, now they’re all sober,” replied the mate, “and will let you know in the evening; or to-morrow morning perhaps, will be better.” The mate then saluted her, by touching his hat, and left us.

  Chapter Twenty One.

  There was one thing which had made a great impression on me in the conversation with the men in the morning. They called me a savage, and said that I had not sufficient clothes on; and as I observed that they were all dressed in jackets and trousers, which covered them from head to foot, I took it for granted that my shirt, which was all that I wore, was not a sufficient clothing. This had never occurred to me before, nor can the reader be surprised at it. I had been like our first parents in Eden — naked but not ashamed; but now that I had suddenly come in contact with my fellow-men, I felt as if something were amiss. The consequence was, that I went to the chest and got out a pair of white trousers, and put them on. I thought them very uncomfortable and very unnecessary articles; but others — wore them, and I felt that I must do so also. They were rather long for me, but I rolled up the bottoms of the legs, as I observed that the seamen did, and then came out on the platform, where the missionary’s wife was still seated, looking out upon the waves as they lashed the rocks. She immediately observed the addition that I had made to my dress, and said —

  “That is a great improvement. Now you look like other people. What is your name? You have not told me.”

  When I had answered the question, I said to her —

  “I have brought up more of the potatoes, as you call them; what am I to do with them?”

  “First tell me, have you any spot that you know about the island where there is mould — that is, earth, like you have in your garden — where we can plant them?”

  “Yes,” replied I, “there is some up there;” and I pointed to one-third up the ravine. “I brought all this earth from there, and there is plenty of it; but what is the good of planting them?”

  “Because,” said she, “one of the potatoes planted will, in a very short time, grow, and then it will produce perhaps thirty or forty potatoes at its roots as large as these; they are excellent things for food, and where there is nothing else to be had, may be the means of preserving life.”

  “Well, that may be,” replied I, “and if we were going to remain on the island, it would be well to plant them; but as we are going away the day after to-morrow, what’s the use of it? I know that they are very nice, for I had some for supper last night.”

  “But are we only to think of ourselves in this world, and not of others?” replied she, “Suppose, two or three years hence, another boat were to be cast away on this island, and not find, as we have, you here, with provisions ready for them, they would starve miserably; whereas, if we plant these potatoes, they may find plenty of food and be saved. Only think how glad your father and mother would have been to have found potatoes on the island when they were thrown on it. We must not live only for ourselves, but we must think and try to do good to others — that is the duty of a Christian.”

  “I think you are very right,” replied I, “and a very kind person too. If you wish it, I will go and plant the potatoes this day. How am I to plant them?”

  “They have a shovel in the boat,” said she, “for I saw them throwing the water out with it. Go down and get it, and then I will go with you and show you.”

  I went down and the mate gave me the shovel, which I carried up to her. I found her cutting the potatoes into pieces, and she showed me how she cut them, leaving an eye in each piece, and explained the reason for it. I was soon very busy cutting away alongside of her, and before long the pail of potatoes was all ready to be planted.

  We then walked to the ravine, and she showed me how to use the shovel, and I made the holes. Before noon we had planted all that we had cut, but we had still the two handkerchiefs full that we had at first brought up with us. We returned to the cabin, and I prepared the fish for dinner. After it was on the embers, she wished to have the screen put up beside her bed-place.

  “Go down to the mate,” said she, “and ask him for the hammer and three or four nails. I know they have them in the boat.”

  “I may as well take them down some birds for their dinner,” replied I, “for, they will want them.”

  “Yes, do so; and then come back to me as soon as you can.”

  The mate gave me the hammer, an article I had never seen before, and five or six nails, with which I returned to the cabin, and nailed up the sail as a screen.

  “Now you will be able to sleep in your own bed-place to-night,” said she.

  I made no reply; but I could not imagine why I could not have done so the night before, for I had only gone out of the cabin that she might not be frightened by Nero being so close to her.

  After we had eaten our dinner, she said to me —

  “How could you contrive to live on this island, if you had no dried birds?”

  “How?” replied I; “why very badly. I might catch fish; but there are times in the year when you can catch no fish, they won’t take bait, neither will they when the weather is rough. Besides, I have only two lines, and I might lose them both — then what would become of me? I should starve.”

  “Well, then, you see under all circumstances, it was just as well to plant the potatoes, for other people may come here and be in your position.”

  “Yes, that is true, but we shall not be here long now, and you don’t know how glad I am to go. I want to see all the things that I have read about in my books. I want to go to England and look for somebody; but you don’t know all that I know; some day I will tell you all — everything. I am so tired of living here by myself — nothing to say — no one to talk to — no one to care for, except Nero, and he can’t speak. I can’t bear the idea of parting with him, though.”

  “Would you rather stay on the island with Nero, than go away without him?”

  “No,” replied I; “go I must, but still I do not like to part with him. He is the only friend that I ever had, that I can remember.”

  “When you have lived longer, and mixed more with the world, my poor boy, you will then find how many sacrifices you will be obliged to make, much more serious than parting with an animal that you are attached to. I suppose you expect to be very happy if ever you get back to England?”

  “Of course I do; why should I not be?” replied I; “I shall be always happy.”

  The missionary’s wife shook her head. “I fear not. Indeed, I think if you live long enough, you will acknowledge that the happiest of your days were passed on this barren rock.”

  “Jackson said otherwise,” replied I. “He was always grieving at being on the island, and not able to get back to England; and he told me so many stories about England, and what is done there and what a beautiful place it is, that I’m sure I shall like it better than being here, even if I had somebody with me.”

  “Well, you are in the hands of God, and you must put your trust in him. He will do with you as he thinks best for you — that you know, as you read your Bible.”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” replied I. “God lives beyond the stars, a long way off.”

  “Is that all you have gained by reading your Bible?” inquired she, looking me in the face.

  “No, not all,” replied I; “but I do not understand a great deal that I read; I want some one to tell me. I am so glad you came with the men in the boat, for I never saw a woman before. I used to see somebody in my dreams, and now I know it was a woman. It was my mother; but I have not seen her for a long while now, and I have nobody but Nero.”

  “My poor boy, you have a father in heaven.”

  “Yes,” replied I; “I know he is in heaven, and so is my mother; for Jackson said that they were both very good.”

  “I mean your Heavenly Father, God. Do you not say in the Lord’s Prayer, ‘Our Father which art in heaven?’ You must love him.”

  I was about to reply, when John Gough, the mate, came up, and told my companion, that he had been speaking to the men, and they had agreed that the day after the next they would, if the weather permitted, leave the island; that they had examined the boat, and found it required very little repair, and that all would be ready the next day.

  “I hope that they will not overload the boat,” said she.

  “I fear that they will, but I must do all I can to prevent it. The cask of rum was rather an unfortunate discovery, and we had been better without it. Leave it they will not, so we must put out of the boat all that we can possibly do without, for we shall be nine of us, and that will be plenty of weight with the addition of the cask.”

  “You promised to take my chest, you remember,” said I.

  “Yes, I will do so if I possibly can; but recollect, I may not be able to keep my promise; for now that they have the liquor, the men do not obey me as they did before, ma’am,” said the mate. “Perhaps he had better take the best of his clothes in a bundle, in case they should refuse to take in the chest; and I must say, that, loaded as the boat will be, they will be much to blame if they do not refuse, for the boat is but small for stowage, and there’s all the provisions to put in her, which will take up a deal of room.”

  “That is very true,” replied the woman. “It will be better to leave the chest here, for I do not think that the boat will hold it. You must not mind your chest, my good boy, it is of no great value.”

  “They take my rum and all my birds, and they ought to take both me and my chest.”

  “Not if it takes up too much room,” replied the woman. “You cannot expect it. The wishes of one person must give way to the wishes of many.”

  “Why, they would have starved if it had not been for me,” replied I, angrily.

  “That’s very true, boy,” replied the mate; “but you have to learn yet, that might is right; and recollect that what you did this morning has not made you any great favourite with them.”

  “What was that?” inquired my companion.

  “Only that he nearly drove his knife through one of the men, that’s all,” replied the mate; “English sailors ar’n’t fond of knives.”

  He then touched his hat, and went down again to the pool, desiring me to follow him with a kid for our share of the supper. I did so, and on my return she asked me why I had drawn my knife upon the seaman, and I narrated how it occurred. She pointed out to me the impropriety of what I had done, asking me whether the Bible did not tell us we were to forgive injuries.

  “Yes,” replied I; “but is it not injuries to ourselves? I did forgive Jackson; but this was to prevent his hurting another.”

  “Another! Why you talk of Nero as if the animal was a rational being, and his life of as much consequence as that of a fellow-creature. I do not mean to say but that the man was very wrong, and that you must have felt angry if an animal you were so fond of had been killed; but there is a great difference between the life of an animal and that of a fellow-creature. The animal dies, and there is an end of it; but a man has an immortal soul, which never perishes, and nothing can excuse your taking the life of a man, except in self-defence. Does not the commandment say, ‘Thou shalt not kill?’”