the wide ocean, as the song says, far an' near. I've bin
tattooed by the New Zealanders, and I've danced with the Hottentots, and
ate puppy dogs with the Chinese, and fished whales in the North Seas,
and run among the ice near the South Pole, and fowt with pirates, and
done service on boord of men-o'-war and merchantmen, and junks, and
bumboats; but I never," concluded Gurney, looking round with a sigh, "I
never came for to be located on a sandbank in the middle of the ocean."

"No more did any on us," added Rokens, "Moreover, if we're not picked up
soon by a ship o' some sort, we're not likely to be located here long,
for we can't live on salt junk for ever; we shall all die o' the
scurvy."

There was just enough of possible and probable truth in the last remark
to induce a feeling of sadness among the men for a few minutes, but this
was quickly put to flight by the extraordinary movements of Phil Briant.
That worthy had left the group round the fire, and had wandered out to
the extreme end of the rocky point, where he sat down to indulge,
possibly in sad, or mayhap hopeful reflections. He was observed to
start suddenly up, and gaze into the sea eagerly for a few seconds; then
he cut a caper, slapped his thigh, and ran hastily towards the tent.

"What now? where away, Phil?" cried one of the men.

Briant answered not, but speedily reappeared at the opening of the tent
door with a fishing-line and hook. Hastening to the point of rock, he
opened a small species of shell-fish that he found there, wherewith he
baited his hook, and then cast it into the sea. In a few minutes he
felt a twitch, which caused him to return a remarkably vigorous twitch,
as it were in reply.

The fish and the sailor for some minutes acted somewhat the part of
electricians in a telegraph office; when the fish twitched, Briant
twitched; when the fish pulled and paused, Briant pulled and paused, and
when the fish held on hard, Briant pulled hard, and finally pulled him
ashore, and a very nice plump rock-codling he was. There were plenty of
them, so in a short time there was no lack of fresh fish, and Rokens'
fear that they would have to live on salt junk was not realised.

Fishing for rock-codlings now became one of the chief recreations of the
men while not engaged in bringing various necessaries from the wreck.
But for many days at first they found their hands fully occupied in
making their new abode habitable, in enlarging and improving