about?" says he. I made answer, "My father,
and five hundred pound; and how do you come
to couple them together, I should like to know?"
"I couldn't have coupled them," says he, in a
great hurry—" what do I know about it? I
don't believe a man like your father ever had
such a sum of money as that, in all his life."
"Don't you?" says I, feeling the aggravation of
him, in spite of myself; "I can just tell you my
father had such a sum when he was no older a
man than I am—and saved it—and left it for a
provision, in his will, to my mother, who has
got it now—and, I say again, how came a
stranger like you to bo talking of it in your
sleep?" At hearing this, he went about on the
other tack directly. "Was that all your father
left, after his debts were paid?" says he. "Are
you very curious to know?" says I. He took
no notice—he only persisted with his question.
"Was it just five hundred pound, no more and
no less?" says he. "Suppose it was," says I;
"what then?" "Oh, nothing?" says he, and
turns sharp round from me, and chuckles to
himself. " You're drunk!" says I. " Yes,"
says he; "that's it—stick to that—I'm drunk"
—and he chuckles again. Try as I might, and
threaten as I might, not another word on the
matter of the five hundred pound could I get
from him. I bore it well in mind, though, for
all that—it being one of my slow ways, not easily
to forget anything that has once surprised me,
and not to give up returning to it over and over
again, as time and occasion may serve for the
purpose.

The hours wore on, and the storm raged on.
We had our half rations of food, when hunger
took us (I being much the hungrier of the two);
and slept, and grumbled, and quarrelled the
weary time out somehow. Towards dusk the
wind lessened; and, when I got up, out of the
hollow to look out, there was a faint watery
break in the western heavens. At times, through
the watches of the long night, the stars showed
in patches for a little while, through the rents
that opened and closed by fits in the black sky.
When I fell asleep towards the dawning, the
wind had fallen to a moan, though the sea, slower
to go down, sounded as loud as ever. From
what I could make of the weather, the storm
had, by that time, as good as blown itself out.

I had been wise enough (knowing who was
near me) to lay myself down, whenever I slept,
on the side of me which was next to the flask
of ginger-brandy, stowed away in my breast-
pocket. When I woke at sunrise, it was the
supercargo's hand that roused me up, trying to
steal my flask while I was asleep. I rolled him
over headlong among the stores—out of which I
had the humanity to pull him again, with my
own hands.

"I'll tell you what," says I, "if us two keep
company any longer, we shan't get on smoothly
together. You're the oldest man—and you stop
here, where we know there is shelter. We will
divide the stores fairly, and I'll go and shift for
myself at the other end of the island. Do you
agree to that?"

"Yes," says he; "and the sooner the better."

I left him for a minute, and went away to look
out on the reef that had wrecked us. The
splinters of the Peruvian, scattered broadcast
over the beach, or tossing up and down darkly,
far out in the white surf, were all that remained
to tell of the ship. I don't deny that my heart
sank, when I looked at the place where she
struck, and saw nothing before me but sea and
sky.

But what was the use of standing and looking,?
It was a deal better to rouse myself by
doing something. I returned to Mr. Clissold—
and then and there divided the stores into two
equal parts, including everything down to the
matches in my pocket. Of these parts I gave
him first choice. I also left him the whole of
the tarpaulin to himself—keeping in my own
possession the medicine-chest, and the pistol;
which last I loaded with powder and shot, in
case any sea-birds might fly within reach. When
the division was made, and when I had moved
my part out of his way and out of his sight, I
thought it uncivil to bear malice any longer, now
that we had agreed to separate. We were cast
away on a desert island, and we had death, as
well as I could see, within about three weeks'
hail of us—but that was no reason for not
making things reasonably pleasant as long as
we could. I was some time (in consequence of
my natural slowness where matters of seafaring
duty don't happen to be concerned) before I
came to this conclusion. When I did come to
it, I acted on it.

"Shake hands, before parting," I said,
suiting the action to the word.

"No!" says he; "I don't like you."

"Please yourself," says I—and so we parted.

Turning my back on the west, which was his
territory according to agreement, I walked away
towards the south-east, where the sides of the
island rose highest. Here I found a sort of half
rift, half cavern, in the rocky banks, which looked
as likely a place as any other—and to this
refuge I moved my share of the stores. I thatched
it over as well as I could with scrub, and heaped
up some loose stones at the mouth of it. At
home in England, I should have been ashamed
to put my dog in such a place—but when a
man believes his days to be numbered, he is not
over-particular about his lodgings, and I was
not over-particular about mine.

When my work was done, the heavens were
fair, the sun was shining, and it was long past
noon. I went up again to the high ground, to
see what I could make out in the new clearness
of the air. North, east, and west there
nothing but sea and sky—but, south, I now saw
land. It was high, and looked to be a matter
of seven or eight miles off. Island, or not, it
must have been of a good size for me to see it
as I did. Known or not known to mariners, it
was certainly big enough to have living creatures
on it—animals or men, or both. If I had not
lost the boat in my second attempt to reach the
vessel, we might have easily got to it. But