in a well-appointed schooner, which is our own,--at least no one has a
better claim to it than we have,--and the world lies before us. Moreover,
here comes a breeze, so we must make up our minds which way to steer."

"Ralph, boy," said my companion, "it matters not to me which way we go. I
fear that my time is short now. Go where you will. I'm content."

"Well then, Bill, I think we had better steer to the Coral Island, and
see what has become of my dear old comrades, Jack and Peterkin. I
believe the island has no name, but the captain once pointed it out to me
on the chart, and I marked it afterwards; so, as we know pretty well our
position just now, I think I can steer to it. Then, as to working the
vessel, it is true I cannot hoist the sails single-handed, but luckily we
have enough of sail set already, and if it should come on to blow a
squall, I could at least drop the peaks of the main and fore sails, and
clew them up partially without help, and throw her head close into the
wind, so as to keep her all shaking till the violence of the squall is
past. And if we have continued light breezes, I'll rig up a complication
of blocks and fix them to the top-sail halyards, so that I shall be able
to hoist the sails without help. 'Tis true I'll require half a day to
hoist them, but we don't need to mind that. Then I'll make a sort of
erection on deck to screen you from the sun, Bill; and if you can only
manage to sit beside the tiller and steer for two hours every day, so as
to let me get a nap, I'll engage to let you off duty all the rest of the
twenty-four hours. And if you don't feel able for steering, I'll lash
the helm and heave to, while I get you your breakfasts and dinners; and
so we'll manage famously, and soon reach the Coral Island."

Bill smiled faintly as I ran on in this strain.

"And what will you do," said he, "if it comes on to blow a storm?"

This question silenced me, while I considered what I should do in such a
case. At length I laid my hand an his arm, and said, "Bill, when a man
has done all that he _can_ do, he ought to leave the rest to God."

"Oh, Ralph," said my companion, in a faint voice, looking anxiously into
my face, "I wish that I had the feelin's about God that you seem to have,
at this hour. I'm dyin', Ralph; yet I, who have braved death a hundred
times, am afraid to die. I'm afraid to enter the next world. Something
within tells me there will be a reckoning when I go ther