ew his determined courage; and with them that quality was always
a strong appeal.

"Who will row this lad ashore, and bring the boat off?"

"Not I," replied one; "it would haunt me ever afterwards."

So they all appeared to think, for no one volunteered. Francisco jumped
into the boat.

"There is no room for any one but me; and I will row myself on shore,"
cried he. "Farewell, my lads! farewell!"

"Stop? not so; he must not have the boat--he may escape from the
island," cried Hawkhurst.

"And why shouldn't he, poor fellow?" replied the men. "Let him have the
boat."

"Yes--yes, let him have the boat;" and Hawkhurst was again overruled.

"Here, Massa Francisco--here de book."

"What's that, sir?" cried Hawkhurst, snatching the book out of Pompey's
hand.

"Him, massa, Bible." Francisco waited for the book.

"Shove off!" cried Hawkhurst.

"Give me my book, Mr Hawkhurst!"

"No!" replied the malignant rascal, tossing the Bible over the taffrail;
"he shall not have that. I've heard say that _there is consolation in
it for the afflicted_."

Francisco shoved off his boat, and seizing his sculls, pushed astern,
picked up the book, which still floated, and laid it to dry on the
after-thwart of the boat. He then pulled in for the shore. In the
meantime the schooner had let draw her fore-sheet, and had already left
him a quarter of a mile astern. Before Francisco had gained the
sand-bank she was hull-down to the northward.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE SAND-BANK.

The first half hour that Francisco was on this desolate spot he watched
the receding schooner: his thoughts were unconnected and vague.
Wandering through the various scenes which had passed on the decks of
that vessel, and recalling to his memory the different characters of
those on board of her, much as he had longed to quit her--disgusted as
he had been with those with whom he had been forced to associate--still,
as her sails grew fainter and fainter to his view, as she increased her
distance, he more than once felt that even remaining on board of her
would have been preferable to his present deserted lot. "No, no!"
exclaimed he, after a little further reflection, "I had rather perish
here, than continue to witness the scenes which I have been forced to
behold."

He once more fixed his eyes upon her white sails, and then sat down on
the loose sand, and remained in deep and melancholy reverie until the
scorching heat reminded him of his situatio