“Then you’d better go, Chips,” Tempest said casually to the carpenter, with a wink. “You’re certainly a white man,” said the carpenter, who realized Tempest was making the sacrifice to stand by his friend. The two gripped hands for an instant, and then the boat was quickly pushed off the beach. Dave, Tempest, and the Kanaka stood watching the boat glide away until it was only a speck in the distance. [Illustration: Dave, Tempest, and the Kanaka stood watching the boat glide away] “Well,” said Tempest, at last, “we’re both _Robinson Crusoes_ now, and we only have one Man Friday between us.” CHAPTER XIV MAROONED! Although those who had gone were naturally very much missed, the trio settled down to their lonely life a good deal more contentedly than they had anticipated. A more ideal camping-ground could not have been found, and, for the present, at least, they had all the necessities of life at their elbows. One of their chief recreations was fishing. The gear was primitive, Tempest fashioning hooks out of wire with the aid of a file, but the sport was excellent and provided a welcome change of diet. They were a little anxious at first about some of their catches, Tempest doubting whether several of the brilliantly hued fish were edible, but the Kanaka came to their rescue, picking out those which were poisonous, and also showing how fish were cooked in native fashion, by baking them in clay in the ground――a process which both Dave and Tempest were forced to admit put the old-fashioned frying pan to shame. On one occasion a fishing expedition nearly led to disaster. While Tempest was busy ashore the boy went off in the dory with the Kanaka, and the sport was so good that they were tempted to remain at anchor some distance off the shore in spite of a brisk breeze that had sprung up. At last the weather-wise Kanaka, scenting danger, began to heave on the anchor. Instead of coming in puffs, the wind was now steady, dotting the surface of the water everywhere with “white horses.” The two pulled at the oars for ten minutes until Dave, glancing over his shoulder, realized that they were making no progress. Only then did the gravity of the situation dawn upon him. The Kanaka knew, but he gave no sign. The muscles under his bare arms and back played like ripples of velvet. He seemed to be made of sinew and steel. Toughened though Dave was by months of hard work, the strain began to tell on him before long, but the Kanaka kept plugging away, even when it became apparent that they were losing ground. The little island, from which Tempest was doubtless watching the struggle anxiously, was slowly but surely dropping farther away, and to make matters worse darkness shut down on the dory, swiftly following the sinking of the sun as it always does in the tropics.