as
it was.

And now he dug no more. He thought he could sell the galleon as well as
the island, by sample, and he was impatient to be gone.

He reproached himself, a little unjustly, for allowing a woman to
undertake the task of clearing him.

"To what annoyances, and perhaps affronts, have I exposed her!" said he.
"No, it is a man's business to defend, not to be defended."

To conclude: At high tide one fine afternoon he went on board with Ponto,
and, hoisting his foresail only, crossed the bay, ranging along the
island till he reached the bluff. He got under this, and, by means of his
compass and previous observations, set the boat's head exactly on the
line the ducks used to take. Then he set his mainsail too, and stretched
boldly out across the great Pacific Ocean.

Time seems to wear out everything, even bad luck. It ran strong against
Robert Penfold for years. But, when it had struck its worst blow, and
parted him and Helen Rolleston, it relaxed, and a tide of good luck set
in, which, unfortunately, the broken-hearted man could not appreciate at
the time. However, so it was. He wanted oil; and a whale came ashore. He
wanted treasure, and the sea gave him a little back of all it had
swallowed; and now he wanted fine weather; and the ocean for days and
nights was like peach-colored glass, dimpled here and there; and soft
westerly airs fanned him along by night and day.

To be sure, he was on the true Pacific Ocean, at a period when it is
really free from storms. Still, even for that latitude, he had wonderful
weather for six days; and on the seventh he fell in with a schooner, the
skipper and crew of which looked over the bulwarks at him with wonder and
cordiality, and, casting out a rope astern, took him in tow.

The skipper had been eying him with amazement for some hours through his
telescope; but he was a man that had seen a great many strange things,
and it was also a point of honor with him never to allow that he was
astonished, or taken by surprise, or greatly moved.

"Wal, stranger," said he, "what craft is that?"

"The _Helen."_

"Where d'ye hail from? not that I am curious."

"From an unknown island."

"Do tell. What, another! Is it anyways nigh?"

"Not within seven hundred miles."

"Je--rusalem! Have you sailed all that in a cockle-shell?"

"Yes."

"Why, what are ye? the Wandering Jew afloat, or the Ancient Mariner? or
only a kinder nautilus?"

"I'm a landsman."

"A landsman! the