stopped, and begged Ernest to recollect all the words he had met with in
his books, of the language of the savages. The black man approached; and
conceive my surprise when I heard him cry, in my own language--

"Don't be alarmed, father, it is I, your son Fritz."

"Is it possible," said I; "can I believe it? and Jack? What have you
done with my Jack? Where is he? Speak...."

Ernest did not ask. Alas! he knew too well; he had seen with his
telescope that it was his dear brother Jack that was in the canoe with
the savages; but he had not dared to tell me. I was in agony. Fritz,
harassed with fatigue, and overwhelmed with grief, sunk down on
the ground.

"Oh father!" said he, sobbing, "I dread to appear before you without my
brother! I have lost him. Can you ever forgive your unfortunate Fritz?"

"Oh yes, yes; we are all equally unfortunate," cried I, sinking down
beside my son, while Ernest seated himself on the other side to support
me. I then besought Fritz to tell me if the savages had murdered my dear
boy. He assured me that he was not killed, but carried off by the
savages; still he hoped he was safe. Ernest then told me he had seen him
seated in the canoe, apparently without clothes, but not stained black
as Fritz was.

"I earnestly wish he had been," said Fritz; to that I attribute my
escape. But I am truly thankful to God that you have seen him, Ernest.
"Which way have the monsters gone?"

Ernest pointed out the cape, and Fritz was anxious that we should embark
without delay, and endeavour to snatch him from them.

"And have you learned nothing of your mother and Francis?" said I.

"Alas! nothing," said he; "though I think I recognized a handkerchief,
belonging to dear mamma, on the head of a savage. I will tell you all my
adventure as we go. You forgive me, dear father?"

"Yes, my dear son," said I; "I forgive and pity you; but are you sure my
wife and Francis are not on the island?"

"Quite sure," said he. "In fact the island is entirely uninhabited;
there is no fresh water, nor game, and no quadrupeds whatever, but rats
and kangaroos; but plenty of fruit. I have filled my bag with
bread-fuit, which is all we shall need: let us go."

We worked so hard, that in a quarter of an hour the branches were
removed, and the pinnace ready to receive us. The wind was favourable
for carrying us towards the cape the savages had turned; we hoisted our
sail, I took my place at the helm; the sea was calm, and the