"The first king of these islands," Mackay informed the lads, "was a Glasgow Scotsman. Old King Ross did a wonderful amount o' pioneering work in these seas, and hoisted the British flag here without the assistance of a gunboat. He was a strange man, and knew well how to handle the natives."
"But what do they do?" asked Jack.
"They grow cocoanuts and make copra, my lad; they find a good market for it in Colombo and Singapore."
"Are all the islands in this part of the Indian Ocean of coral formation?" asked Bob, looking at the white low-lying shores with interest.
"Oh no," laughed Mackay, "there's Christmas Island, for instance, about five hundred odd miles east of these, and it is nothing short of a mountain, and its shores go down into the water almost as steep as the side of a house——"
"I say, Mackay," interrupted Carew, petulantly, "how do you know anything about Christmas Island? It's the most ungetatable place on the face of the earth, and I've heard that very few white men have ever been there."
"I'm one of the few," imperturbably answered Mackay. "I sailed there from North Australia in a pearling lugger," he condescended to explain.
"And do they grow copra there too?" inquired an interested bystander.
"Oh no; it's a guano island and belongs to the Christmas Island syndicate. A very fine paying concern it is too, though the island is not more than twenty miles or so in circumference."
"I didn't think guano islands were much good to any one," hazarded Bob.