Mr. MacCandlish and his friends issued from the saloon and worked their way along the bulwark to the group of stokers. “Well?” said the millionaire, and he addressed himself to Feeny. “I'm thinking, sir, we'd best leave the old hooker when the sea ca'ms down a bit. Yonder's one of the life-boats hanging to its davits. Presently we'll h'ist it over the side and go ashore,” said Feeny. “Then you don't think we are in any imminent peril?” asked Mr. MacCandlish. “That feelin' you got comes mainly from an empty stomach,” said Mr. Feeny soothingly. “Here, Tom Murphy! you see if you can get these gentlemen their breakfast.” He himself went below and accumulated a pair of trousers. Then under his immediate direction breakfast was served in the saloon, while the stokers browsed about the forward deck. With hot coffee life took on a changed aspect; also Mr. Feeny's assured manner and the close proximity of the island combined to contribute their measure of hope to the minds and hearts of all. It was mid-morning, however, before Mr. Feeny declared it was not too great a hazard to attempt a landing, and to his “Easy, Murphy... easy, I say, Tom Murphy... Easy!” in a rising crescendo, the boat dropped into the water. “Hurroar!” cried Mr. Feeny. “Well done, my men!—very well done, indeed!” said Mr. MacCandlish. “Splendid, true lads,—all of them!” murmured the bishop. “If you'll step lively, sir, we'll have you dry shod on terry-firmy in a jiffy!” said Feeny. Within an hour after they had effected a landing it had been definitely ascertained that the island was not inhabited. “That bein' the case,” said Mr. Feeny, “I think I would best put the b'ys to work fetchin' off supplies. What do you think, sir?” “Oh, by all means.” It was Mr. MacCandlish who answered him. He and his friends were peacefully resting in the shade of a group of palms. “And will you have an eye to our personal belongings? Our trunks and hand-bags, I mean?” “I'll have them fetched off immediate,” said Mr. Feeny. All that afternoon he and his mates tugged at boxes and bales, or sweated at the oars. At dusk they stopped for a bite to eat, and to rig up a shelter of awnings for the millionaires. “I'm doubtful about the weather,” Mr. Feeny explained as he came up from the boat, his shoulders piled high with mattresses. “And bein' as there's a full moon to-night, we'll just bring off what more of the stores we can.”