“Even so,” replied the engineer, “you will risk depriving the colony of Lincoln Island of two settlers out of five.” “Out of six,” answered Pencroft; “you forget Jup.” “Out of seven,” added Neb; “Top is quite worth another.” “There is no risk at all in it, captain,” replied Pencroft. “That is possible, Pencroft; but I repeat it is to expose ourselves uselessly.” The obstinate sailor did not reply, and let the conversation drop, quite determined to resume it again. But he did not suspect that an incident would come to his aid and change into an act of humanity that which was at first only a doubtful whim. After standing off the shore the “Bonadventure” again approached it in the direction of Port Balloon. It was important to ascertain the channels between the sandbanks and reefs, that buoys might be laid down since this little creek was to be the harbor. They were not more than half a mile from the coast, and it was necessary to tack to beat against the wind. The “Bonadventure” was then going at a very moderate rate, as the breeze, partly intercepted by the high land, scarcely swelled her sails, and the sea, smooth as glass, was only rippled now and then by passing gusts. Herbert had stationed himself in the bows that he might indicate the course to be followed among the channels, when all at once he shouted,-- “Luff, Pencroft, luff!” “What’s the matter,” replied the sailor; “a rock?” “No--wait,” said Herbert; “I don’t quite see. Luff again--right--now.” So saying, Herbert, leaning over the side, plunged his arm into the water, and pulled it out, exclaiming,-- “A bottle!” He held in his hand a corked bottle which he had just seized a few cables’ length from the shore. Cyrus Harding took the bottle. Without uttering a single word he drew the cork, and took from it a damp paper, on which were written these words:-- “Castaway.... Tabor island: 153deg W. long., 37deg 11’ S. lat.” Chapter 13 “A castaway!” exclaimed Pencroft; “left on this Tabor Island not two hundred miles from us! Ah, Captain Harding, you won’t now oppose my going.” “No, Pencroft,” replied Cyrus Harding; “and you shall set out as soon as possible.” “To-morrow?” “To-morrow!” The engineer still held in his hand the paper which he had taken from the bottle. He contemplated it for some instants, then resumed, “From this document, my friends, from the way in which it is worded, we may conclude this: first, that the castaway on Tabor Island is a man possessing a considerable knowledge of navigation, since he gives the latitude and longitude of the island exactly as we ourselves found it, and to a second of approximation; secondly, that he is either English or American, as the document is written in the English language.”