stingly allowed old Terry to take the infant from her arms,
and her dulled eyes took no heed of what followed.

Forcing their way through the thick, coarse grass that clothed the
western side of the island, and disturbing countless thousands of
breeding gulls and penguins, Adair and Terry dug a tiny grave on the
summit under a grove of low, wide-branched mimosa trees, and there the
child was buried.

As they were about to descend, the old man gave a shout and pointed
seaward--there, not a mile away, was a large ship, whose many boats
showed her to be a whaler, and quite near the shore a boat was pulling
swiftly in towards the landing-place.

Rushing down to their companions they gave the alarm, and then a hurried
consultation was held.

"We must meet them," said Adair, "we can't hide the boat. If they mean
mischief we can take to the woods."

In another five minutes the newcomers saw the little group and gave a
loud, friendly hail. Stepping out from his companions, who followed him
closely, Adair advanced to meet the strangers.

A young, swarthy-faced man, who steered, jumped out of the boat and at
once addressed him. He listened with interest to Adair's story that they
had escaped from a ship that had gone ashore on the coast some weeks
before, and then said quietly--

"Just so. Well, I'm glad that I can assist you. I've just come from Port
Jackson, and am bound to the East Indies, sperm-whaling. Come aboard,
all of you, and I'll land you at one of the Dutch ports there."

Adair's face paled. Something told him that his story was not believed.
What should he do?

The captain of the whaler beckoned him aside. "Don't be alarmed. I can
guess where you come from. But that doesn't concern me. Now look here.
My ship--the _Manhattan_, of Salem--is a safer place for you than an
open boat, and I'm short-handed and want men. You can all lend a hand
till I land you at Amboyna or Ternate. Is that your wife?"

"Yes."

"Well, what are you going to do--stay here or come aboard?"

"We accept your offer gladly," answered Adair, now convinced of the
American's good intentions.

"Very well; carry your wife down to the boat while my men get some
gulls' eggs."

*****

For two weeks after Mrs. Clinton was carried up the whale-ship's side
she hovered between life and death. Then, very, very slowly, she began
to mend. A month more and then the _Manhattan_ hove-to off the verdant
hills and shining beaches of Rotumah Island.