University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.

The peak, or highest part of the island, was at its northern
extremity, and within two miles of the grove in which
Mark Woolston had eaten his dinner. Unlike most of the
plain, it had no woods whatever, but rising somewhat abruptly
to a considerable elevation, it was naked of everything
but grass. On the peak itself, there was very little
of the last even, and it was obvious that it must command
a full view of the whole plain of the island, as well as of
the surrounding sea, for a wide distance. Resuming his
pack, our young adventurer, greatly refreshed by the delicious
repast he had just made, left the pleasant grove in
which he had first rested, to undertake this somewhat sharp
acclivity. He was not long in effecting it, however, standing
on the highest point of his new discovery within an
hour after he had commenced its ascent.

Here, Mark found all his expectations realized touching
the character of the view. The whole plain of the island,
with the exceptions of the covers made by intervening
woods, lay spread before him like a map. All its beauties,
its shades, its fruits, and its verdant glades, were placed
beneath his eye, as if purposely to delight him with their
glories. A more enchanting rural scene the young man
had never beheld, the island having so much the air of
cultivation and art about it, that he expected, at each instant,
to see bodies of men running across its surface. He

carried the best glass of the Rancocus with him, in all his
excursions, not knowing at what moment Providence might
bring a vessel in sight, and he had it now slung from his
shoulders. With this glass, therefore, was every part of
the visible surface of the island swept, in anxious and
almost alarmed search for the abodes of inhabitants. Nothing
of this sort, however, could be discovered. The
island was unquestionably without a human being, our
young man alone excepted. Nor could he see any trace
of beast, reptile, or of any animal but birds. Creatures
gifted with wings had been able to reach that little paradise;
but to all others, since it first arose from the sea,
had it probably been unapproached, if not unapproachable,
until that day. It appeared to be the very Elysium of
Birds!

Mark next examined the peak itself. There was a vast
deposit of very ancient guano on it, the washings of which
for ages, had doubtless largely contributed to the great
fertility of the plain below. A stream of more size than
one would expect to find on so small an island, meandered
through the plain, and could be traced to a very copious
spring that burst from the earth at the base of the peak.
Ample as this spring was, however, it could never of itself
have supplied the water of the brook, or rivulet, which
received the contributions of some fifty other springs, that
reached it in rills, as it wound its way down the gently
inclined plane of the island. At one point, about two
leagues from the Peak, there was actually a little lake visible,
and Mark could even trace its outlet, winding its way
beyond it. He supposed that the surplus tumbled into the
sea in a cascade.

It will readily be imagined that our young man turned
his glass to the northward, in search of the group he had
left that morning, with a most lively interest. It was easy
enough to see it from the great elevation at which he was
now placed. There it lay, stretched far and wide, extending
nearly a degree of latitude, north and south, and another
of longitude, east and west, most truly resembling a
vast dark-looking map, spread upon the face of the waters
for his special examination. It reminded Mark of the
moon, with its ragged outlines of imaginary continents, as

seen by the naked eye, while the island he was now on, bore
a fancied resemblance to the same object viewed through a
telescope; not that it had the look of molten silver which
is observed in the earth's satellite, but that it appeared
gloriously bright and brilliant. Mark could easily see
many of the sheets of water that were to be found among
the rocks, though his naked eye could distinguish neither
crater nor ship. By the aid of the glass, however, the first
was to be seen, though the distance was too great to leave
the poor deserted Rancocus visible, even with the assistance
of magnifying-glasses.

When he had taken a good look at his old possessions,
Mark made a sweep of the horizon with the glass, in
order to ascertain if any other land were visible, from the
great elevation on which he now stood. While arranging
the focus of the instrument, an object first met his eye that
caused his heart almost to leap into his mouth. Land was
looming up, in the western board, so distinctly as to admit
of no cavil about its presence. It was an island, mountainous,
and Mark supposed it must be fully a hundred
miles distant. Still it was land, and strange land, and
might prove to be the abode of human beings. The glass
told him very little more than his eye, though he could
discern a mountainous form through it, and saw that it
was an island of no great size. Beyond this mountain,
again, the young man fancied that he could detect the
haze of more land; but, if he did, it was too low, too distant,
and too indistinct, to be certain of it. It is not easy
to give a clear idea of the tumult of feeling with which
Mark Woolston beheld these unknown regions, though it
might best be compared with the emotions of the astronomer
who discovers a new planet. It would scarce exceed
the truth to say that he regarded that dim, blue mountain,
which arose in the midst of a watery waste, with as much
of admiration, mysterious awe and gratification united, as
Herschel may have been supposed to feel when he established
the character of Uranus. It was fully an hour
before our hermit could turn his eyes in any other direction.

And when our young mariner did look aside, it was
more with the intention of relieving eyes that had grown

dim with gazing, than of not returning to the same objects
again, as soon as restored to their power. It was while
walking to and fro on the peak, with this intent, that a
new subject of interest caused him almost to leap into the
air, and to shout aloud. He saw a sail! For the first
time since Betts disappeared from his anxious looks, his
eyes now surely rested on a vessel. What was more, it
was quite near the island he was on, and seemed to be
beating up to get under its lee. It appeared but a speck
on the blue waves of the ocean, seen from that height, it
is true; but Mark was too well practised in his craft to be
mistaken. It was a vessel, under more or less canvas, how
much he could not then tell, or even see—but it was most
decidedly a vessel. Mark's limbs trembled so much that
he was compelled to throw himself upon the earth to find
the support he wanted. There he lay several minutes,
mentally returning thanks to God for this unexpected favour;
and when his strength revived, these signs of gratitude
were renewed on his knees. Then he arose, almost
in terror lest the vessel should have disappeared, or it
should turn out that he was the subject of a cruel illusion.

There was no error. There was the little white speck,
and he levelled the glass to get a better look at it. An
exclamation now clearly broke from his lips, and for a
minute or two the young man actually appeared to be out
of his senses. “The pinnace,” “the Neshamony,” however,
were words that escaped him, and, had there been a
witness, might have given an insight into this extraordinary
conduct. Mark had, in fact, ascertained that the sail beneath
the peak was no other than the little craft that had
been swept away, as already described, with Betts in it.
Fourteen months had elapsed since that occurrence, and
here it was again, seemingly endeavouring to return to the
place where it had been launched! Mark adopted perhaps
the best expedient in his power to attract attention to
himself, and to let his presence be known. He fired both
barrels of his fowling-piece, and repeated the discharges
several times, or until a flag was shown on board the sloop,
which was now just beneath the cliff, a certain sign that
he had succeeded. A musket was also fired from the
vessel.

Our young man rather flew than ran to the ravine, down
which he went at a pace that several times placed his neck
in jeopardy. It was a very different thing to descend from
ascending such a mountain. In less than a quarter of an
hour the half-distracted hermit was in his boat, nearly
crazy with the apprehension that he might yet not meet
with his friend; for, that it was Bob looking for the Reef
and himself, he did not now entertain the least doubt.
The most plausible course for him to adopt was precisely
that which he followed. He pushed off in the Bridget,
making sail on the boat, and getting out of the cove in the
shortest time he could. On quitting his little haven, and
coming out clear of all the rocks, another shout burst out
of his very soul, when he saw the Neshamony, beyond all
cavil, within a hundred fathoms of him, running along the
shore in search of a place to land. That shout was returned,
and Mark and Bob recognised each other at the next instant.
As for the last, he just off tarpaulin, and gave three
hearty cheers, while the former sank on a seat, literally
unable to stand. The sheet of the sail got away from him,
nor could he be said to know what he was about, until
some little time after he was in the arms of his friend, and
on board the pinnace.

It was half-an-hour before Mark was master of himself
again. At length tears relieved him; nor was he ashamed
to indulge in them, when he saw his old companion not
only alive and well, but restored to him. He perceived
another in the boat; but as he was of a dark skin, he naturally
inferred this second person was a native of some
neighbouring island where Bob had been, and who had
consented to come with him in this, his search after the
shipwrecked mariner. At length Bob began to converse.

“Well, Mr. Mark, the sight of you is the pleasantest
prospect that has met my eyes this many a day,” exclaimed
the honest fellow. “It was with fear and trembling that
I set out on the search, and little did I hope to fall in with
you so early in the cruise.”

“Thank you, thank you, Bob, and God be praised for
this great mercy! You have been to some other island, I
see, by your companion; but the miraculous part of all is,

that you should find your way back to the Reef, since you
are no navigator.”

“The Reef! If this here mountain is the Reef, the
country has greatly altered since I left it,” answered Bob.
Mark then briefly explained the great change that had
actually occurred, and told his own story touching his boat
and his late voyages of discovery. Betts listened with the
greatest attention, casting occasional glances upward at the
immense mass that had been so suddenly lifted out of the
sea, as well as turning his head to regard the smoke of the
more distant volcano.

“Well, this explains our 'arthquake,” he answered, as
soon as Mark was done. “I must have been as good as a
hundred and fifty leagues from this very spot at the time
you mention, and we had tremblings there that would
scarce let a body stand on his feet. A ship came in two
days arterwards, that must have been a hundred leagues
further to the nor'ard when it happened, and her people
reported that they thought heaven and 'arth was a coming
together, out there in open water.”

“It has been a mighty earthquake—must have been, to
have wrought these vast changes; though I had supposed
that Providence had confined a knowledge of its existence
to myself. But, you spoke of a ship, Bob—surely we are
not in the neighbourhood of vessels.”

“Sartain—but, I may as well tell you my adventures at
once, Mr. Mark; though I own I should like to land first,
as it is a long story, and take a look at this island that you
praise so much, and taste them reed-birds of which you
give so good an account. I 'm Jarsey-born and bred, and
know what the little things be.”

Mark was dying to hear Bob's story, more especially
since he understood a ship was connected with it, but he
could not refuse his friend's demand for sweet water and
a dinner. The entrance of the cove was quite near, and
the boats entered that harbour and were secured; after
which the three men commenced the ascent, Mark picking
up by the way the spy-glass, fowling-piece, and other articles
that he had dropped in the haste of his descent. While
going up this sharp acclivity, but little was said; but, when
they reached the summit, or the plain rather, exclamations

of delight burst from the mouths of both of Mark's companions.
To the young man's great surprise, those which
came from Bob's dark-skinned associate were in English,
as well as those which came from Bob himself. This induced
him to take a good look at the man, when he discovered
a face that he knew!

“How is this, Bob?” cried Mark, almost gasping for
breath—“whom have you here? Is not this Socrates?”

“Ay, ay, sir; that 's Soc; and Dido, his wife, is within
a hundred miles of you.”

This answer, simple as it was, nearly overcame our
young man again. Socrates and Dido had been the slaves
of Bridget, when he left home; a part of the estate she
had received from her grandmother. They dwelt in the
house with her, and uniformly called her mistress. Mark
knew them both very well, as a matter of course; and
Dido, with the archness of a favourite domestic, was often
in the habit of calling him her `young master.' A flood
of expectations, conjectures and apprehensions came over
our hero, and he refrained from putting any questions immediately,
out of pure astonishment. He was almost afraid
indeed to ask any.

Nearly unconscious of what he was about, he led the
way to the grove where he had dined two or three hours
before, and where the remainder of the reed-birds were
suspended from the branch of a tree. The embers of the
fire were ready, and in a few minutes Socrates handed
Betts his dinner.

Bob ate and drank heartily. He loved a tin-pot of rum-and-water,
or grog, as it used to be called—though even
the word is getting to be obsolete in these temperance
times—and he liked good eating. It was not epicurism,
however, or a love of the stomach, that induced him to
defer his explanations on the present occasion. He saw
that Mark must hear what he had to relate gradually, and
was not sorry that the recognition of the negro had prepared
him to expect something wonderful. Wonderful it
was, indeed; and at last Betts, having finished his dinner,
and given half-a-dozen preparatory hints, in order to lessen
the intensity of his young friend's feelings, yielded to
an appeal from the other's eyes, and commenced his narrative.

Bob told his story, as a matter of course, with a
great deal of circumlocution, and in his own language.
There was a good deal of unnecessary prolixity in it, and
some irrelative digressions touching currents, and the
trades, and the weather; but, on the whole, it was given
intelligibly, and with sufficient brevity for one who devoured
every syllable he uttered. The reader, however,
would most probably prefer to hear an abridgement of the
tale in our own words.

When Robert Betts was driven off the Reef, by the
hurricane of the preceding year, he had no choice but to
let the Neshamony drive to leeward with him. As soon
as he could, he got the pinnace before the wind, and,
whenever he saw broken water ahead, he endeavoured to
steer clear of it. This he sometimes succeeded in effecting;
while at others he passed through it, or over it, at the
mercy of the tempest. Fortunately the wind had piled up
the element in such a way as to carry the craft clear of the
rocks, and in three hours after the Neshamony was lifted
out of her cradle, she was in the open ocean, to leeward
of all the dangers. It blew too hard, however, to make
sail on her, and Bob was obliged to scud until the gale
broke. Then, indeed, he passed a week in endeavouring
to beat back and rejoin his friend, but without success,
`losing all he made in the day, while asleep at night.'
Such, at least, was Bob's account of his failure to find the
Reef again; though Mark thought it probable that he was
a little out in his reckoning, and did not look in exactly
the right place for it.

At the end of this week high land was made to leeward,
and Betts ran down for it, in the hope of finding inhabitants.
In this last expectation, however, he did not succeed.
It was a volcanic mountain, of a good many resources,
and of a character not unlike that of Vulcan's
Peak, but entirely unpeopled. He named it after his old
ship, and passed several days on it. On describing its
appearance, and its bearings from the place where they
then were, Mark had no doubt it was the island that was
visible from the peak near them, and at which he had been
gazing that very afternoon, for fully an hour, with longing

eyes. On describing its form to Bob, the latter coincided
in this opinion, which was in fact the true one.

From the highest point of Rancocus Island, land was
to be seen to the northward and westward, and Bob now
determined to make the best of his way in that direction,
in the hope of falling in with some vessel after sandal-wood
or bêche-le-mar. He fell in with a group of low islands,
of a coral formation, about a hundred leagues from his volcanic
mountain, and on them he found inhabitants. These
people were accustomed to see white men, and turned out
to be exceedingly mild and just. It is probable that they
connected the sudden appearance of a vessel like the Neshamony,
having but one man in it, with some miraculous
interposition of their gods, for they paid Bob the highest
honours, and when he landed, solemnly tabooed his sloop.
Bob was a long-headed fellow in the main, and was not
slow to perceive the advantage of such a ceremony, and
encouraged it. He also formed a great intimacy with the
chief, exchanging names and rubbing noses with him.
This chief was styled Betto, after the exchange, and Bob
was called Ooroony by the natives. Ooroony stayed a
month with Betto, when he undertook a voyage with him
in a large canoe, to another group, that was distant two or
three hundred miles, still further to the northward, and
where Bob was told he should find a ship. This account
proved to be true, the ship turning out to be a Spaniard,
from South America, engaged in the pearl fishery, and on
the eve of sailing for her port. From some misunderstanding
with the Spanish captain, that Bob never comprehended
and of course could not explain, and which he did not attempt
to explain, Betto left the group in haste, and without
taking leave of his new friend, though he sent him a message
of apology, one-half of which was lost on Bob, in consequence
of not understanding the language. The result
was, however, to satisfy the latter that his friend was quite
as sorry to abandon him, as he was glad to get away from
the Spanish captain.

This desertion left Betts no choice between remaining
on the pearl island, or of sailing in the brig, which went
to sea next day. He decided to do the last. In due time
he was landed at Panama, whence he made his way across

the isthmus, actually reaching Philadelphia in less than
five months after he was driven off the Reef. In all this
he was much favoured by circumstances; though an old
salt, like Bob, will usually make his way where a landsman
would be brought up.

The owners of the Rancocus gave up their ship, as soon
as Betts had told his story, manifesting no disposition to
send good money after bad. They looked to the underwriters,
and got Bob to make oath to the loss of the vessel;
which said oath, by the way, was the ground-work of a
law-suit that lasted Friend Abraham White as long as he
lived. Bob next sought Bridget with his tale. The young
wife received the poor fellow with floods of tears, and the
most eager attention to his story, as indeed did our hero's
sister Anne. It would seem that Betts's arrival was most
opportune. In consequence of the non-arrival of the ship,
which was then past due two or three months, Doctor
Yardley had endeavoured to persuade his daughter that
she was a widow, if indeed, as he had of late been somewhat
disposed to maintain, she had ever been legally married
at all. The truth was, that the medical war in Bristol
had broken out afresh, in consequence of certain cases
that had been transferred to that village, during one of the
fever-seasons in Philadelphia. Greater cleanliness, and
the free use of fresh water, appear to have now arrested
the course of this formidable disease, in the northern cities
of America; but, in that day, it was of very frequent occurrence.
Theories prevailed among the doctors concerning
it, which were bitterly antagonistical to each other;
and Doctor Woolston headed one party in Bucks, while
Doctor Yardley headed another. Which was right, or
whether either was right, is more than we shall pretend to
say, though we think it probable that both were wrong.
Anne Woolston had been married to a young physician
but a short time, when this new outbreak concerning yellow
fever occurred. Her husband, whose name was Heaton,
unfortunately took the side of this grave question that
was opposed to his father-in-law, for a reason no better
than that he believed in the truth of the opposing theory,
and this occasioned another breach. Doctor Yardley could
not, and did not wholly agree with Doctor Heaton, because

the latter was Doctor Woolston's son-in-law, and he altered
his theory a little to create a respectable point of disagreement;
while Doctor Woolston could not pardon a disaffection
that took place, as it might be, in the height of a war.
About this time too, Mrs. Yardley died.

All these occurrences, united to the protracted absence
of Mark, made Bridget and Anne extremely unhappy. To
increase this unhappiness, Doctor Yardley took it into his
head to dispute the legality of a marriage that had been
solemnized on board a ship. This was an entirely new
legal crotchet, but the federal government was then young,
and jurisdictions had not been determined as clearly as has
since been the case. Had it been the fortune of Doctor
Yardley to live in these later times, he would not have given
himself the trouble to put violent constructions on anything;
but, getting a few female friends to go before the
necessary judge, with tears in their eyes, anything would
be granted to their requests, very much as a matter of
course. Failing of this, moreover, there is always the resource
of the legislature, which will usually pass a law
taking away a man's wife, or his children, and sometimes
his estate, if a pretty pathetic appeal can be made to it, in
the way of gossip. We have certainly made great progress
in this country, within the last twenty years; but whether
it has been in a direction towards the summit of human
perfection, or one downward towards the destruction of all
principles, the next generation will probably be better able
to say than this. Even the government is getting to be
gossipian.

In the case of Bridget, however, public sympathy was
with her, as it always will be with a pretty woman. Nevertheless,
her father had great influence in Bucks county,
more especially with the federalists and the anti-depletionists,
and it was in his power to give his daughter great
uneasiness, if not absolutely to divorce her. So violent
did he become, that he actually caused proceedings to be
commenced in Bridget's name, to effect a legal separation,
taking the grounds that the marriage had never been consummated,
that the ceremony had occurred on board a
ship, that the wife was of tender years, and lastly, that she
was an heiress. Some persons thought the Doctor's proceedings

were instigated by the circumstance that another
relative had just died, and left Bridget five thousand dollars,
which were to be paid to her the day she was eighteen,
the period of a female's reaching her majority, according
to popular notions. The possession of this money, which
Bridget received and placed in the hands of a friend in
town, almost made her father frantic for the divorce, or a
decree against the marriage, he contending there was no
marriage, and that a divorce was unnecessary. The young
wife had not abandoned the hope of seeing her husband
return, all this time, although uneasiness concerning the
fate of the ship, was extending from her owners into the
families of those who had sailed in her. She wished to
meet Mark with a sum of money that would enable him,
at once, to commence life respectably, and place him above
the necessity of following the seas.

Betts reached Bristol the very day that a decision was
made, on a preliminary point, in the case of Yardley versus
Woolston, that greatly encouraged the father in his hopes
of final success, and as greatly terrified his daughter. It
was, in fact, a mere question of practice, and had no real
connection with the merits of the matter at issue; but it
frightened Bridget and her friend Anna enormously. In
point of fact, there was not the smallest danger of the marriage
being declared void, should any one oppose the decision;
but this was more than any one of the parties then
knew, and Doctor Yardley seemed so much in earnest,
that Bridget and Anne got into the most serious state of
alarm on the subject. To increase their distress, a suitor
for the hand of the former appeared in the person of a student
of medicine, of very fair expectations, and who supported
every one of Doctor Yardley's theories, in all their
niceties and distinctions; and what is more, would have
supported them, had they been ten times as untenable as
they actually were, in reason.

Had the situation of Doctor Heaton been more pleasant
than it was, it is probable that the step taken by himself,
his wife, and Bridget, would never have been thought of.
But it was highly unpleasant. He was poor, and dependent
altogether on his practice for a support. Now, it was in
Doctor Woolston's power to be of great service to the

young couple, by introducing the son-in-law to his own
patients, but this he could not think of doing with a depletionist;
and John, as Anne affectionately styled her husband,
was left to starve on his system of depletion. Such
was the state of things when Bob appeared in Bristol, to
announce to the young wife not only the existence but the
deserted and lone condition of her husband. The honest
fellow knew there was something clandestine about the
marriage, and he used proper precautions not to betray his
presence to the wrong persons. By means of a little management
he saw Bridget privately, and told his story.
As Bob had been present at the wedding, and was known
to stand high in Mark's favour, he was believed, quite as a
matter of course, and questioned in a thousand ways, until
the poor fellow had not really another syllable to communicate.

The sisters shed floods of tears at the thought of poor
Mark's situation. For several days they did little besides
weep and pray. Then Bridget suddenly dried her tears,
and announced an intention to go in person to the rescue
of her husband. Not only was she determined on this,
but, as a means of giving a death-blow to all expectations
of a separation and to the hopes of her new suitor, she was
resolved to go in a way that should enable her to remain
on the Reef with Mark, and, if necessary, to pass the remainder
of her days there. Bob had given a very glowing
description of the charms of the residence, as well as of the
climate, the latter quite justly, and declared his readiness
to accompany this faithful wife in the pursuit of her lost
partner. The whole affair was communicated to Doctor
and Mrs. Heaton, who not only came into the scheme, but
enlisted in its execution in person. The idea pleased the
former in particular, who had a love of adventure, and a
desire to see other lands, while Anne was as ready to follow
her husband to the ends of the earth, as Bridget was
to go to the same place in quest of Mark. In a word, the
whole project was deliberately framed, and ingeniously
carried out.

Doctor Heaton had a brother, a resident of New York,
and often visited him. Bridget was permitted to accompany
Anne to that place, whither her money was transferred

to her. A vessel was found that was about to sail for
the North-west Coast, and passages were privately engaged.
A great many useful necessaries were laid in, and, at the
proper time, letters of leave-taking were sent to Bristol,
and the whole party sailed. Previously to the embarkation,
Bob appeared to accompany the adventurers. He
was attended by Socrates, and Dido, and Juno, who had
stolen away by order of their young mistress, as well as by
a certain Friend Martha Waters, who had stood up in
`meeting' with Friend Robert Betts, and had become
“bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh;” and her maiden
sister, Joan Waters, who was to share their fortunes. In
a word, Bob had brought an early attachment to the test
of matrimony.

So well had the necessary combinations been made, that
the ship sailed with our adventurers, nine in number, without
meeting with the slightest obstacle. Once at sea, of
course nothing but that caused by the elements was to
be anticipated. Cape Horn was doubled in due time, and
Doctor Heaton, with all under his care, was landed at Panama,
just five months, to a day, after leaving New York.
Here passages were taken in the same brig that Bob had
returned in, which was again bound out, on a pearl-fishing
voyage. Previously to quitting Panama, however, a recruit
was engaged in the person of a young American shipwright,
of the name of Bigelow, who had run from his ship a twelvemonth
before, to marry a Spanish girl, and who had become
heartily tired of his life in Panama. He and his
wife and child joined the party, engaging to serve the
Heatons, for a stipulated sum, for the term of two years.

The voyage from Panama to the pearl islands was a long
one, but far from unpleasant. Sixty days after leaving
port the adventurers were safely landed, with all their effects.
These included two cows, with a young bull, two
yearling colts, several goats obtained in South America,
and various implements of husbandry that it had not entered
into the views of Friend Abraham White to send to even
the people of Fejee. With the natives of the pearl island,
Bob, already known to them and a favourite, had no difficulty
in negotiating. He had brought them suitable and
ample presents, and soon effected an arrangement, by which

they agreed to transport him and all his stores, the animals
included, to Betto's Islands, a distance of fully three hundred
miles. The horses and cows were taken on a species
of catamaran, or large raft, that is much used in those mild
seas, and which sail reasonably well a little off the wind,
and not very badly on. At Betto's Islands a new bargain
was struck, and the whole party proceeded to Rancocus
Island, Bob making his land-fall without any difficulty,
from having observed the course steered in coming from it.

At Betto's group, however, Bob found the Neshamony,
covered with mats, and tabooed, precisely as he had left
her to a rope-yarn. Not a human hand had touched anything
belonging to the boat, or a human foot approached it,
during the whole time of his absence. Ooroony, or Betto,
was rewarded for his fidelity by the present of a musket
and some ammunition, articles that were really of the last
importance to his dignity and power. They were as good
as a standing army to him, actually deciding summarily a
point of disputed authority, that had long been in controversy
between himself and another chief, in his favour.
The voyage between Betto's group and Rancocus Island
was made in the Neshamony, so far as the human portion
of the freight was concerned. The catamarans and canoes,
however, came on with the other animals, and all
the utensils and stores.

The appearance of Rancocus Island created quite as
much astonishment among the native mariners, as had that
of the horses, cows, &c. Until they saw it, not one of
them had any notion of its existence, or of a mountain at
all. They dwelt themselves on low coral islands, and quite
beyond the volcanic formation, and a hill was a thing scarcely
known to them. At this island Heaton and Betts deemed
it prudent to dismiss their attendants, not wishing them to
know anything of the Reef, as they were not sure what
sort of neighbours they might prove, on a longer acquaintance.
The mountain, however, possessed so many advantages
over the Reef, as the latter was when Bob left it,
that the honest fellow frankly admitted its general superiority,
and suggested the possibility of its becoming their
permanent residence. In some respects it was not equal
to the Reef, as a residence, however, the fishing in particular

turning out to be infinitely inferior. But it had trees
and fruits, being very much of the same character as Vulcan's
Peak, in this respect. Nevertheless, there was no
comparison between the two islands as places of residence,
the last having infinitely the most advantages. It was
larger, had more and better fruits, better water, and richer
grasses. It had also a more even surface, and a more accessible
plain. Rancocus Island was higher and more
broken, and, while it might be a pleasanter place of residence
than the Reef during the warm months, it never
could be a place as pleasant as the plain of the Peak.

Bob found it necessary to leave his friends, and most
of his stores, at Rancocus Island; Mrs. Heaton becoming
a mother two days after their arrival at it, and the cows
both increasing their families in the course of the same
week. It was, moreover, impossible to transport everybody
and everything in the Neshamony, at the same time. As
Doctor Heaton would not leave Anne at such a moment, and
Bridget was of the same way of thinking, it was thought
best to improve the time by sending out Betts to explore.
It will be remembered that he was uncertain where the
Reef was to be found exactly, though convinced it was to
windward, and within a hundred miles of him. While
roaming over the rocks of Rancocus, however, Vulcan's
Peak had been seen, as much to Bob's surprise as to his
delight. To his surprise, inasmuch as he had no notion
of the great physical change that had recently been wrought
by the earthquake yet could scarce believe he had overlooked
such an object in his former examinations; and to
his delight, because he was now satisfied that the Reef
must lie to the northward of that strange mountain, and a
long distance from it, because no such peak had been visble
from the former when he left it. It was a good place
to steer for, nevertheless, on this new voyage, since it carried
him a hundred miles to windward; and when Bob,
with Socrates for a companion, left Rancocus to look for
the Reef, he steered as near the course for the Peak as the
wind would permit. He had made the island from the
boat, after a run of ten hours; and, at the same time, he
made the crater of the active volcano. For the latter, he
stood that night, actually going within a mile of it; and,

next morning, he altered his course, and beat up for the
strange island. When Mark first discovered him, he had
nearly made the circuit of Vulcan's Peak, in a vain endeavour
to land, and he would actually have gone on his way,
had it not been for the firing of the fowling-piece, the report
of which he heard, and the smoke of which he saw.