During one of their rambles they heard that there was an Englishman named Cresswell living near the north shore who had a fairly useful sailing-boat called the _Nautilus_, and the pair promptly started off on a tour of inspection. Cresswell, they found, was a taciturn soul, who spent most of his life nursing a grouch and a bad leg. He could only hobble about with the aid of a stick, and his boat was lying far up on the beach, exposed to the merciless glare of the tropic sun. The paint on its side was blistered, and the heat was fast reducing it to the condition of a sieve. Tempest examined it carefully before bearding Cresswell, and though far from pleased with the craft, he decided it might be made seaworthy. The task of putting the matter before Cresswell, however, was a somewhat delicate one, for their funds were not in a flourishing condition, and all the money they possessed would be needed for provisions, unless they were to run the risk of starving to death out of sight of land. “We want to make a little trip on the water, sir,” said Tempest, “and we thought perhaps you might loan your boat to us, for a consideration.” Cresswell glared from one to the other. “And who told you I’d lend it?” he asked acidly. [Illustration: “Who told you I’d lend it?” he asked acidly] “Nobody,” replied Tempest. “But we need it rather badly, and as you weren’t using it just now we thought you perhaps might――” “What are you doing on the island, anyway?” interrupted Cresswell. “You don’t live here. We get too many strangers prowling about these days.” “We’re waiting for a steamer to take us off, sir,” said Tempest in his most affable tones. “Now, about the boat. She’s just getting ruined by lying there in the sun. If you would be so kind as to allow us to use her for a while, I’ll make her seaworthy for you.” “Don’t know as I want her made seaworthy,” the man replied. “She’s comfortable enough lying where she is.” “I’m sorry we can’t offer to pay for it in advance, Mr. Cresswell,” Dave said, “but I’ll give you my word that the money shall be sent to you sooner or later.” Cresswell laughed. Something about the notion seemed to amuse him. He scrutinized the boy carefully for a few moments. “Hang me if I don’t put you to the test, youngster,” he said. “Ten dollars a day is what I’ll charge you, and you’re to make good anything that gets broken. And if you find she’s sinking and you’re going to drown, don’t annoy me by throwing farewell messages overboard in bottles.” Before Dave or Tempest had time to thank him properly Mr. Cresswell hobbled back into his house. “He’s a queer sort,” Dave said. “Never mind, we have a boat now,” commented Tempest, with a new flash of enthusiasm. “She isn’t exactly the sort of craft I should have chosen for monkeying about with in the Pacific, but she’s better than nothing. Now, my lad, off with that coat of yours. We have a nice little job ahead of us to fix the tub.”