“You’ve got on a coral reef,” shouted a powerful voice, which, we need scarcely say, was that of Dominick Rigonda, “but you’re safe enough now. The last wave has shoved you over into sheltered water. You’re in luck. We’ll soon put you on shore.”
“An island, I suppose,” said Malines, as the raft came alongside. “What may be its name?”
“Got no name that I know of; as far as I know it’s uninhabited, and, probably, unknown. Only three of us here—wrecked like yourselves. If you have boats, lower them, and I’ll pilot you to land.”
“Ohone!” groaned Mrs Lynch, in solemn despair, as she tried to see the speaker, whom darkness rendered almost invisible. “An unbeknown island, uninhabited by nobody. Boys, we are done for intirely. Didn’t I say this would be the end of it, when we made up our minds to go to say?”
No one seemed inclined just then to dispute the prophetic reminiscences of the widow, for the order had been given to get ready one of the boats. Turning to the emigrants, who were now clustering on the fore part of the vessel, Malines, condescending to adopt a more respectful tone, addressed them as follows:—
“Now, let me tell you, one and all, that your voyage has come to an end sooner than I expected. Our ship is wrecked, but we’re out of danger, and must go ashore an’ live as best we can, or die if we can’t live. Where we are, I don’t know, and don’t care, for it don’t much matter. It’s an island, it seems, and three people who have been wrecked before us are all its population. As it is too dark to go ashore comfortably to-night, I would advise you to go below again, an’ turn in till daylight. You may make your minds easy, for there’s no fear of our going to the bottom now.”
“Sure, an’ you’re right there,” murmured Teddy Malone, “for aren’t we at the bottom already?”
“You may all do as you please, however,” continued the mate, after a low-toned remark from one of the crew, “for my command has come to an end with the loss of the ship.”
When the mate ceased speaking, there was a brief pause, for the unfortunate emigrants had been so long accustomed to conform to the strict discipline of the ship that they felt like sheep suddenly deprived of a shepherd, or soldiers bereft of their officers when thus left to think for themselves. Then the self-sufficient and officious among them began to give advice, and to dispute noisily as to what they should do, so that in a few minutes their voices, mingling with the gale and the cries of terrified children, caused such a din that the strong spirit of the widow Lynch was stirred within her, inducing her to raise her masculine voice in a shout that silenced nearly all the rest.
“That’s right, mother,” cried young Malone, “howld yer tongues, boys, and let’s hear what the widdy has to say. Isn’t it herself has got the great mind—not to mintion the body?”