oment the water shallowed, so that the man in the
bows got soundings in ten fathoms; directly after, nine; then eight; and
eight again, at which depth the water seemed to remain.

"Come, that's honest leading!" said the lieutenant, brightening; "as
snug a berth as a ship could be in. Why, Jones, what a position for a
port!"

"This do, sir?" shouted the tattooed Englishman. "You'll be quite in
shelter here, and the water keeps the same right up to the shore."

A few more soundings were taken, and then the boat returned to the ship,
which made her way in and anchored before night, with the canoes hanging
about, and some of the chiefs eagerly besieging the gangway to be
allowed on deck. But special precautions were taken; sentries were
doubled; and, as if feeling that the fate of all on board depended upon
his stringent regulations, the captain only allowed about half-a-dozen
of the savage-looking people to come on board at a time.

By a little management Don had contrived that Jem should have the
hammock next to his; and that night, with the soft air playing in
through the open port-hole, they listened to the faint sounds on shore,
where the savages were evidently feasting, and discussed in a whisper
the possibility of getting away.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

AN INVITATION.

It seemed to Don that the object of the captain in coming to New Zealand
was to select and survey portions of the coast for a new settlement; and
for the next few days well-armed boat parties were out in all directions
sounding, and in two cases making short journeys inland.

"I say," said Jem one morning, as he and Don stood gazing over the side
of the ship at the verdant shores.

"Well, Jem, what do you say?"

"Has that ugly-looking chap Ramsden been telling tales about us?"

"I don't know; why?"

"Because here's a fortnight we've been at anchor, and since the first
day neither of us has been out in a boat."

"Hasn't been our turn, Jem."

"Well, p'r'aps not, sir; but it do seem strange. Just as if they
thought we should slip away."

"And I suppose we've given up all such thoughts as that now."

"Oh, have we?" said Jem sarcastically; and then there was silence for a
time, till Jem, who had been watching the steam rise from the little
island about a quarter of a mile away, exclaimed, "Wonder what's being
cooked over yonder, Mas' Don. I know; no, I don't. Thought it was
washing day, but it can't be, for they don't hardly wear a