Two Years' Vacation E-Book

Jules Verne.

• Herausgeber: Jazzybee Verlag
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 288

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

In these days, when so many distinguished writers have set themselves to the task of producing books which boys as well as adults will be delighted to read, Jules Verne still remains the master in his craft. Everything which bears his name is still bought with avidity, and for the schoolboy particularly his thrilling adventures by land, air, and water have a perennial charm which shows no sign of change. This volume is a variation on the old theme of ' Robinson Crusoe.' He has, however, given his readers not one Crusoe, but a dozen, who are all youths from eight to thirteen years and of different nationalities and who inhabit a desert island. The youthful dramatis personae are of course very brave, and run through a lot of adventures by flood and field, particularly 'Gordon ' and ' Doniphan.' On the whole, the author, without fatiguing himself, has evolved a set of stirring episodes and adventures which will thrill and interest adults as well as youths.

Leseprobe

Two Years' Vacation

Jules Verne

Contents:

Jules Verne – A Biographical Primer

Two Years' Vacation

Chapter I - The Storm

Chapter II - Cast Adrift

Chapter III - The First Day Ashore

Chapter IV - The View From The Cape

Chapter V - A Spell Of Rain

Chapter VI - The Raft

Chapter VII - The Colony

Chapter VIII - Winter Quarters

Chapter IX - Bravo, Baxter!

Chapter X - Across The Lake

Chapter XI - The New Chief

Chapter XII - The Separation

Chapter XIII - The Invasion

Chapter XIV - All Together

Chapter XV - The Enemy In Sight

Chapter XVI - Diamond Cut Diamond

Chapter XVII - The Fortune Of War

Chapter XVIII - Afloat Once More

Chapter XIX - Home

Two Years' Vacation, J. Verne

Jazzybee Verlag Jürgen Beck

86450 Altenmünster, Loschberg 9

Germany

ISBN: 9783849646042

www.jazzybee-verlag.de

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[email protected]

Frontcover: © Can Stock Photo Inc. / Angelique

Jules Verne – A Biographical Primer

Jules Verne (1828–1905), French author, was born at Nantes on the 8th of February 1828. After completing his studies at the Nantes lycée, he went to Paris to study for the bar. About 1848, in conjunction with Michel Carré, he wrote librettos for two operettas, and in 1850 his verse comedy, Les Pailles rompues, in which Alexandre Dumas fils had some share, was produced at the Gymnase. For some years his interests alternated between the theatre and the bourse, but some travellers’ stories which he wrote for the Musée des Familles seem to have revealed to him the true direction of his talent—the delineation, viz., of delightfully extravagant voyages and adventures to which cleverly prepared scientific and geographical details lent an air of versimilitude. Something of the kind had been done before, after kindred methods, by Cyrano de Bergerac, by Swift and Defoe, and later by Mayne Reid. But in his own particular application of plausible scientific apparatus Verne undoubtedly struck out a department for himself in the wide literary genre of voyages imaginaires. His first success was obtained with Cinq semaines en ballon, which he wrote for Hetzel’s Magazin d’Éducation in 1862, and thenceforward, for a quarter of a century, scarcely a year passed in which Hetzel did not publish one or more of his fantastic stories, illustrated generally by pictures of the most lurid and sensational description.The most successful of these romances include: Voyage au centre de la terre (1864); De la terre à la lune (1865); Vingt mille lieues sous les mers (1869); Les Anglais au pôle nord (1870); and Voyage autour du monde en quatre-vingts jours, which first appeared in Le Temps in 1872.The adaptation of this last (produced with success at the Porte St Martin theatre on the 8th of November 1874) and of another excellent tale, Michael Strogoff (at the Châtelet, 1880), both dramas being written in conjunction with Adolphe d’Ennery, proved the most acceptable of Verne’s theatrical pieces. The novels were translated into the various European languages—and some even into Japanese and Arabic—and had an enormous success in England. But after 1877, when he published Hector Servadac, a romance of existence upon a comet, the writer’s invention began to show signs of fatigue (his kingdom had been invaded in different directions and at different times times by such writers as R. M. Ballantyne, Rider Haggard and H. G. Wells), and he even committed himself, somewhat unguardedly, to very gloomy predictions as to the future of the novel. Jules Verne’s own novels, however, will certainly long continue to delight readers by reason of their sparkling style, their picturesque verve—apparently inherited directly from Dumas—their amusing and good-natured national caricatures, and the ingenuity with which the love element is either subordinated or completely excluded. M. Verne, who was always extremely popular in society, divided his time for the most part between Paris, his home at Amiens and his yacht. He was a member of the Legion of Honour, and several of his romances were crowned by the French Academy, but he was never enrolled among its members. He died at Amiens on the 24th of March 1905. His brother, Paul Verne, contributed to the Transactions of the French Alpine Club, and wrote an Ascension du Mont Blanc for his brother’s collection of Voyages extraordinaires in 1874.

Two Years' Vacation

Chapter I - The Storm

It was the 9th of March, 1860, and eleven o'clock at night. The sea and sky were as one, and the eye could pierce but a few fathoms into the gloom. Through the raging sea, over which the waves broke with a livid light, a little ship was driving under almost bare poles.

She was a schooner of a hundred tons. Her name was the Sleuth, but you would have sought it in vain on her stern, for an accident of some sort had torn it away.

In this latitude, at the beginning of March, the nights are short. The day would dawn about five o'clock. But would the dangers that threatened the schooner grow less when the sun illumined the sky? Was not the frail vessel at the mercy of the waves? Undoubtedly; and only the calming of the billows and the lulling of the gale could save her from that most awful of shipwrecks — foundering in the open sea far from any coast on which the survivors might find safety.

In the stern of the schooner were three boys, one about fourteen, the two others about thirteen years of age; these, with a young negro some twelve years old, were at the wheel, and with their united strength strove to check the lurches which threatened every instant to throw the vessel broadside on. It was a difficult task, for the wheel seemed as though it would turn in spite of all they could do, and hurl them against the bulwarks. Just before midnight such a wave came thundering against the stern that it was a wonder the rudder was not unshipped. The boys were thrown backwards by the shock, but they recovered themselves almost immediately.

" Does she still steer? " asked one of them.

" Yes, Gordon," answered Briant, who had coolly resumed his place. " Hold on tight, Donagan," he continued, "and don't be afraid. There are others besides ourselves to look after. You are not hurt Moko? "

" No, Massa Briant," answered the boy. " But we must keep the yacht before the wind, or we shall be pooped."

At this moment the door of the companion leading to the saloon was thrown open. Two little heads appeared above the level of the deck, and with them came up the genial face of a dog, who saluted with a loud, "Whough! whough!"

" Briant! Briant! " shouted one of the youngsters "What is the matter?"

" Nothing, Iverson, nothing! " returned Briant. " Get down again with Dole, and look sharp! "

" We are awfully frightened down here," said the other boy, who was a little younger.

" All of you? " asked Donagan.

" Yes; all of us! " said Dole.

" Well, get back again," said Briant. " Shut up; get under the clothes; shut your eyes; and nothing will hurt you. There is no danger! "

" Look out," said Moko. " Here's another wave! "

A violent blow shook the yacht's stern. This time fortunately the wave did not come on board, for if the water had swept down the companion, the yacht would have been swamped.

" Get back, will you? " shouted Gordon. " Go down; or I'll come after you! "

" Look here," said Briant, rather more gently. " Go down, you young guns."

The two heads disappeared, and at the same moment another boy appeared in the doorway.

" Do you want us, Briant? "

" No, Baxter," said Briant. " Let you and Cross and Webb and Service and Wilcox stop with the little ones! We four can manage."

Baxter shut the door from within.

" Yes, all of us!" Dole had said.

But were there only little boys on board this schooner thus driven before the storm? Yes, only boys! And how many were there? Fifteen, counting Gordon, Briant, Donagan, and the negro. How came they to be there? That you shall know shortly.

Was there not a man on the yacht? Not a captain to look after it? Not a sailor to give a hand in its management? Not a helmsman to steer in such a storm? No! Not one!

And more than that — there was not a person on board who knew the schooner's position on the ocean. And what ocean? The largest of all, the Pacific, which stretches for 6000 miles from Australia and New Zealand to the coast of South America.

What, then, had happened? Had the schooner's crew disappeared in some catastrophe? Had the Malay pirates carried them off and left on board only this batch of boys from fourteen downwards? A yacht of a hundred tons ought to have a captain, a mate, and five or six men, and of these all that had been left was the nigger boy!

Where did the schooner come from? From what Australian port or Oceanic archipelago did she hail? How long had she been at sea? Whither was she bound? The boys would probably have been able to answer these questions had they been asked them by any captain speaking the schooner on her course; but there was no vessel in sight, neither steamer nor sailing-ship, and had there been one, she would have had quite enough to do to look after herself, without giving assistance to this yacht that the sea was throwing about like a raft.

Briant and his friends did their utmost to keep the schooner straight ahead.

" What is to be done? " asked Donagan.

" All we can to save ourselves, Heaven helping us," answered Briant, although even the most energetic man might have despaired under such circumstances, for the storm was increasing in violence.

The gale blew in thunderclaps, as the sailors say, and the expression was only too true. The schooner had lost her mainmast, gone about four feet above the partners, so that no trysail could be set under which she might have been more easily steered. The foremast still held, but the shrouds had stretched, and every minute it threatened to crash on to the deck. The forestaysail had been split to ribbons, and kept up a constant cracking, as if a rifle were being fired. The only sail that remained sound was the foresail, and this seemed as though it would go every moment, for the boys had not been strong enough to manage the last reef. If it were to go, the schooner could not be kept before the wind, the waves would board her over the quarter, and she would go down.

Not an island had been sighted; and there could be no continent yet awhile to the eastward. To run ashore was a terrible thing to do, but the boys did not fear its terrors so much as those of this interminable sea. A lee shore, with its shoals, its breakers, the terrible waves roaring on to it, and beaten into surf by the rocks, might, they thought, prove safe enough to them; at least it would be firm ground, and not this raging ocean, which any minute might open under their feet. And so they looked ahead for some light to which they could steer.

But there was no light in that thick darkness!

Suddenly, about one o'clock, a fearful crash was heard above the roaring of the storm.

" There goes the foremast! " said Donagan.

" No," said Moko; " it is the foresail blown out of the bolt ropes! "

" We must clear it," said Briant. " You remain at the wheel, Gordon, with Donagan; and Moko, come and help me."

Briant was not quite ignorant of things nautical. On his voyage out from Europe he had crossed the North Atlantic and Pacific, and had learnt a little seamanship, and that was why his companions, who knew none whatever, had left the schooner in his and Moko's hands.

Briant and the negro rushed forward. At all costs the foresail must be cut adrift, for it had caught and was bellying out in such a way that the schooner was in danger of capsizing, and if that happened she could never be righted, unless the mast were cut away and the wire shrouds broken, and how could the boys manage that?

Briant and Moko set to work with remarkable judgment. Their object was to keep as much sail on the schooner as possible, so as to steer her before the wind as long as the storm lasted. They slacked off the halyards and let the sail down to within four or five feet of the deck, and they cut off the torn strips with their knives, secured the lower corners, and made all snug. Twenty times, at least, were they in danger of being swept away by the waves.

Under her very small spread of canvas the schooner could still be kept on her course, and though the wind had so little to take hold of, she was driven along at the speed of a torpedo-boat. The faster she went the better. Her safety depended on her going faster than the waves, so that none could follow and board her.

Briant and Moko were making their way back to the wheel when the door of the companion again opened. A boy's head again appeared. This time it was Jack, Briant's brother, and three years his junior.

" What do you want, Jack? " asked his brother.

" Come here! Come here! " said Jack. " There's water in the saloon."

Briant rushed down the companion-stairs. The saloon was confusedly lighted by a lamp, which the rolling swung backwards and forwards. Its light revealed a dozen boys lounging on the couches around.

The youngest — there were some as young as eight — were huddling against each other in fear.

" There is no danger," said Briant, wishing to give them confidence. " We are all right. Don't be afraid."

Then holding a lighted lantern to the floor, he saw that some water was washing from side to side.

Whence came this water? Did it come from a leak? That must be ascertained at once.

Forward of the saloon was the day-saloon, then the dining-saloon, and then the crew's quarters.

Briant went through these in order, and found that the water had been taken in from the seas dashing over the bows, down the fore-companion, which had not been quite closed, and that it had been run aft by the pitching of the ship. There was thus no danger on this head.

Briant stopped to cheer up his companions as he went back through the saloon, and then returned to his place at the helm. The schooner was very strongly built, and had only just been re-coppered, so that she might withstand the waves for some time.

It was then about one o'clock. The darkness was darker than ever, and the dark clouds still gathered; and more furiously than ever raged the storm. The yacht seemed to be rushing through a liquid mass that flowed above, beneath, and around her. The shrill cry of the petrel was heard in the air. Did its appearance mean that land was near? No; for it is often met with hundreds of miles at sea. And, in truth these birds of the storm found themselves powerless to struggle against the aerial current, and by it were borne along like the schooner.

An hour later there was another report from the bow. What remained of the foresail had been split to ribbons and the strips flew off into space like huge seagulls.

" We have no sail left! " exclaimed Donagan; " and it is impossible for us to set another."

" Well, it doesn't matter," said Briant. " We shall not get along so fast, that is all! "

" What an answer! " replied Donagan. " If that is your style of seamanship— "

" Look out for the wave astern! " said Moko. " Lash yourselves, or you'll be swept overboard — "

The boy had not finished the sentence when several tons of water came with a leap over the taffrail. Briant, Donagan, and Gordon were hurled against the companion, to which they managed to cling. But the negro had disappeared in the wave which had swept the deck from stern to bow, carrying away the binnacle, a lot of spare spars, and the three boats which were swinging to the davits inboard. The deck was cleared at one blow, but the water almost instantly flowed off, and the yacht was saved from sinking beneath the flood.

" Moko! Moko! " shouted Briant, as soon as he could speak.

" See if he's gone overboard," said Donagan.

" No," said Gordon, leaning out to leeward. " No, I don't see him, and I don't hear him."

" We must save him! Throw him a buoy! Throw him a rope! " said Briant.

And in a voice that rang clearly out in a few seconds of calm, he shouted again, —

"Moko! Moko!"

" Here! Help! " replied the negro.

" He is not in the sea," said Gordon. " His voice comes from the bow."

" I'll save him," said Briant.

And he crept forward along the heaving, slippery deck, avoiding as best he might the blocks swinging from the ropes that were all adrift. The boy's voice was heard again, and then all was silent. By great effort Briant reached the fore-companion.

He shouted. There was no response.

Had Moko been swept away into the sea since he uttered his last cry? If so, he must be far astern now for the waves could not carry him along as fast as the schooner was going. And then he was lost.

No! A feeble cry reached Briant, who hurried to the windlass in the frame of which the foot of the bowsprit was fitted. There he found the negro stuck in the very angle of the bow. A halyard was tightening every instant round his neck. He had been saved by it when the wave was carrying him away. Was he now to be strangled by it?

Briant opened his knife, and, with some difficulty, managed to cut the rope. Moko was then dragged aft, and as soon as he had recovered strength enough to speak, " Thanks, Massa Briant," he said, and immediately resumed his place at the wheel, where the four did their utmost to keep the yacht safe from the enormous waves that now ran behind them, for the waves now ran faster than the yacht, and could easily board her as they passed. But what could be done? It was impossible to set the least scrap of sail.

In the southern hemisphere the month of March corresponds to that of September in the northern, and the nights are shorter than the days. About four o'clock the horizon would grow grey in the east, whither the schooner was being borne. With daybreak the storm might lull. Perhaps land might be in sight, and the fate of the schooner's passengers be settled in a few minutes!

About half-past four a diffused light began to appear overhead. Unfortunately the mist limited the range of view to less than a quarter of a mile. The clouds swept by with terrible rapidity. The storm had lost nothing of its fury; and but a short distance off the sea was hidden by the veil of spray from the raging waves. The schooner at one moment mounting the wave-crest, at the next hurled into the trough, would have been shattered to pieces again and again had she touched the ground.

The four boys looked out at the chaos of wild water; they felt that if the calm was long in coming their situation would be desperate. It was impossible that the schooner could float for another day, for the waves would assuredly sweep away the companions and swamp her.

But suddenly there came a cry from Moko of " Land, Land! "

Through a rift in the mist the boy thought he had seen the outline of a coast to the eastward. Was he mistaken? Nothing is more difficult than to recognize the faint outlines of land, which are so easily confounded with those of the clouds.

" Land! " exclaimed Briant.

" Yes," replied Moko. " Land! to the eastward." And he pointed towards a part of the horizon now hidden by a mass of vapors.

" Are you sure? " asked Donagan.

" Yes I— Yes!— Certain! " said Moko. " If the mist opens again you look — there — a little to the right of the foremast — Look! look! "

The mist began to open and rise from the sea. A few moments more and the ocean reappeared for several miles in front of the yacht.

" Yes! Land! It is really land! " shouted Briant.

" And land that is very low," added Gordon, who had just caught sight of the indicated coast.

There was now no room for doubt. A land— continent, or island— lay some five or six miles ahead along a large segment of the horizon. In the direction she was going, and which the storm would not allow her to deviate from, the schooner would be driven on it in less than an hour. That she would be smashed, particularly if breakers stopped her before she reached the shore, there was every reason to fear. But the boys did not give that a thought. In this land, which had offered itself so unexpectedly to their sight, they saw, they could only see, a means of safety.

And now the wind blew with still greater strength, the schooner, carried along like a feather, was hurled towards the coast, which stood out like a line of ink on the Whitish waste of sky. In the background was a cliff, from a hundred and fifty to two hundred feet high; in the foreground was a yellowish beach ending towards the right in a rounded mass which seemed to belong to a forest further inland.

Ah! If the schooner could reach the sandy beach without meeting with a line of reefs, if the mouth of a river would only offer a refuge, her passengers might perhaps escape safe and sound t

Leaving Donagan, Gordon, and Moko, at the helm, Briant went forward and examined the land which he was nearing so rapidly. But in vain did he look for some place in which the yacht could be run ashore without risk. There was the mouth of no river or stream not even a sandbank, on which they could run her aground; but there was a line of breakers with the black heads of rock rising amid the undulations of the surge, where at the first shock the schooner would be wrenched to pieces.

It occurred to Briant that it would be better for all his friends to be on deck when the crash came, and opening the companion-door he shouted down, —

" Come on deck, every one of you! "

Immediately out jumped the dog, and then the eleven boys one after the other, the smallest at the sight of the mighty waves around them beginning to yell with terror.

It was a little before six in the morning when the schooner reached the first line of breakers.

" Hold on, all of you! " shouted Briant, stripping off half his clothes, so as to be ready to help those whom the surf swept away, for the vessel would certainly strike.

Suddenly there came a shock. The schooner had grounded under the stern. But the hull was not damaged, and no water rushed in. A second wave took her fifty feet further, just skimming the rocks that ran above the water level in quite a thousand places. Then she heeled over to port and remained motionless, surrounded by the boiling surf.

She was not in the open sea, but she was a quarter of a mile from the beach.

Chapter II - Cast Adrift

At the time of our story, Charman's boarding-school was one of the largest in Auckland, New Zealand. It boasted about a hundred pupils belonging to the best families in the colony, and the course of study and the management were the same as in high-class schools at home.

The archipelago of New Zealand has two principal islands, the North Island and the Middle Island, separated by Cook Strait. It lies between the thirty-fourth and forty-fifth parallels of south latitude — a position equivalent to that part of the northern hemisphere occupied by France and Northern Africa. The North Island is much cut into at its southern end, and forms an irregular trapezium prolonged at its northwestern angle and terminated by the North Cape and Cape Van Diemen. Just where the curve begins, and where the peninsula is only a few miles across, the town of Auckland is situated. Its position is similar to that of Corinth in Greece, and to that fact is due its name of the Corinth of the South. It has two harbors, one on the west, one on the east, the latter on Hauraki Gulf being rather shallow, so that long piers have had to be built into it where the smaller vessels can unload. One of these piers is Commercial Pier at the foot of Queen Street; and about half way up Queen Street was Charman's school.

On the 15th of February, 1880, in the afternoon a crowd of boys and their relatives came out of the schoolhouse into Queen Street, merry and happy as birds just escaped from their cage. It was the beginning of the holidays. Two months of independence; two months of liberty! And for some of the boys there was the prospect of a sea voyage which had been talked about in school for months. How the others envied those who were to go on this cruise in which New Zealand was to be circumnavigated! The schooner had been chartered by the boys' friends, and fitted out for a voyage of six weeks. She belonged to the father of one of the boys, Mr. William H. Garnett, an old merchant captain in whom every confidence was felt. A subscription had been raised among the parents to cover the expenses; and great was the joy of the young folks, who would have found it difficult to spend their holidays better.

The fortunate boys came from all of the first forms of the school, and as we have seen, were of all ages from eight to fourteen. With the exception of the Briants who were French, and Gordon who was an American, they were all English.

Donagan and Cross were the sons of rich landholders, who occupy the highest social rank in New Zealand. They were cousins; both were a little over thirteen and both were in the fifth form. Donagan was somewhat of a dandy, and was undoubtedly the most prominent pupil in the school. He was clever and hardworking, and by his fondness for study and his desire to excel, he easily maintained his position. A certain aristocratic arrogance had gained him the nickname of Lord Donagan, and his imperious character led him to strive to command wherever he was placed. Hence between him and Briant there had sprung up this rivalry which had become keener than ever since circumstances had increased Briant's influence over his companions. Cross was a very ordinary sort of boy, distinguished by a constant admiration for everything his cousin said or did.

Baxter was also a fifth-form boy. He was thirteen years of age, a cool, thoughtful, ingenious fellow, who could do almost anything with his hands. He was the son of a merchant who was not particularly well off.

Webb and Wilcox, who were both about twelve and a half, were in the fourth form. They were not particularly bright, and were rather inclined to be quarrelsome. On one thing they prided themselves; that was their intimate knowledge of faggism in all its branches. Every information on the fag, and how to treat him, was to be obtained gratis from Messrs. Webb and Wilcox. Their fathers were wealthy men, and held high rank among the magistracy of the colony.

Garnett and Service were in the third form. They were both twelve years old. One was the son of a retired merchant captain, the other's father was a well-to-do colonist living on the North Shore, on the upper coast of Waitemata Harbor. The families were very intimate, and Service and Garnett were almost inseparable. They were good-hearted boys, not over fond of work, and if they had been given the key of the fields, they would not have let it rest idle in their pockets. Garnett had an over-mastering passion — he loved an accordion! And he took it with him on board the yacht, to occupy his spare time in a way befitting a sailor's son. Service was the school wag, the liveliest and noisiest of the lot, a devourer of traveler's tales, and a worshipper of Robinson Crusoe and the Swiss Family Robinson, which he knew by heart.

Among the boys were two of nine years old. The first of these was Jenkins, the son of the secretary of the New Zealand Royal Society; the other was Iverson, whose father was the minister of the church of St. Paul. Jenkins was in the third form, Iverson in the second; but both were good boys. Dole and Costar were each a year younger than Iverson, and were the sons of military officers at Onehunga, six miles from Auckland, in Manukau Harbor. They were both little fellows. Dole was very obstinate, and Costar very greedy. Both were in the first form, and both knew how to read and write, and that is all we need say about them.

Of the three we have left to the last, Gordon, the American, was about fourteen, and, in his somewhat angular build, already betrayed his Yankee origin. Slightly awkward, and a little heavy, he was far and away, the steadiest boy in the fifth form; and although there was nothing very brilliant about him, he had a clear head and a strong fund of common sense. His tastes ran in a serious direction, and he was of an observant character and cool temperament. He was methodic even to the slightest detail, classifying his ideas in his head as he arranged the things in his desk, where everything was classified, docketed, and entered in its special note-book. His companions liked him, and recognized his good qualities. He was a native of Boston, but having neither father nor mother, he had been taken care of by his guardian, a consular agent who had made his fortune and settled in New Zealand. For some years he had lived in one of those pretty villas scattered on the heights near the village of 'Mount St. John.

Briant and his brother were the sons of a French engineer, who, for two years and a half, had been employed in charge of the works for draining a marsh in the centre of the North Island. Briant was thirteen, an intelligent lad with no particular liking for hard work, and figuring with undesirable frequency at the wrong end of the fifth form. When he made up his mind, however, he speedily rose in the class, thanks to his facility of assimilation and his remarkable memory. He was bold, enterprising, active, quick at repartee, and good-natured. He was generally liked, and when the schooner was in difficulties his companions with a few exceptions, did as he told them, principally, as we know, from his having gained some nautical knowledge on his way out from Europe.

His young brother, Jack, was the funny boy of the third form, who would have been the school jester had it not been for Service. He spent his time chiefly in inventing new modes of mischief for the benefit of his schoolfellows, and being consequently in frequent hot water; but for some reason his conduct on the yacht differed very much from what it had been at school

Such were the schoolboys whom the storm had cast ashore in the Pacific. During the cruise round New Zealand the schooner was to be commanded by Garnett's father, who was one of the best yachtsmen in Australasia. Many times had the schooner appeared on the coast of Australia from the southernmost cape of Tasmania to Torres Straits, and even in the seas of the Moluccas and the Philippines, which are so dangerous to vessels of greater tonnage. But she was a well built boat, handy, weatherly, and fit to keep the sea in all weathers.

The crew consisted of the mate, six sailors, a cook, and a boy, Moko, the young negro of twelve, whose family had been in the service of a well-known colonist for many years. And we ought to mention Fan, a dog of American extraction, which belonged to Gordon, and never left her master.

The day of departure had been fixed for the 15th of February. The yacht lay moored at the end of Commercial Pier. The crew was not on board when on the evening of the 14th, the young passengers embarked. Captain Garnett was not expected till the last moment, and the mate and the boy received Gordon and his companions, the men having gone ashore to take a parting glass. When the yacht had been cleared of visitors, and the boys had all gone to bed, so as to be ready early in the morning for the start, it occurred to the mate that he would go up into the town and look for his men, leaving Moko in charge. And Moko was too tired to keep awake.

What happened immediately the mate left was a mystery, but, accidentally or purposely, the moorings of the yacht got cast off without any one on board being the wiser.

It was a dark night. The land-breeze was strong, and the tide running out, and away went the schooner to sea.

When Moko awoke he found the yacht adrift!

His shouts brought up Gordon, Briant, Donagan, and a few of the others from below, but nothing could they do. They called for help in vain. None of the harbor lights were visible. The yacht was right out in the gulf three miles from land.