“Well,” responded the engineer, “what the turtle could not do on land, he could do in water. When the tide rose over him he turned over, and—tranquilly paddled off.” “How foolish we are,” cried Neb. “That is just what I said you were,” answered Pencroff. Smith had given this explanation, which was doubtless admissible; but was he himself satisfied with it? He did not venture to say that. CHAPTER XXIV. TRIAL OF THE CANOE—A WRECK ON THE SHORE—THE TOW—JETSAM POINT—INVENTORY OF THE BOX—WHAT PENCROFF WANTED—A BIBLE—A VERSE FROM THE BIBLE. On the 29th of October the canoe was finished. Pencroff had kept his word, and had built, in five days, a sort of bark shell, stiffened with flexible crejimba rods. A seat at either end, another midway to keep it open, a gunwale for the thole-pins of a pair of oars, and a paddle to steer with, completed this canoe, which was twelve feet in length, and did not weigh 200 pounds. “Hurrah!” cried the sailor, quite ready to applaud his own success. “With this we can make the tour of—” “Of the world?” suggested Spilett. “No, but of the island. Some stones for ballast, a mast in the bow, with a sail which Mr. Smith will make some day, and away we’ll go! But now let us try our new ship, for we must see if it will carry all of us.” The experiment was made. Pencroff, by a stroke of the paddle, brought the canoe close to the shore by a narrow passage between the rocks, and he was confident that they could at once make a trial trip of the craft by following the bank as far as the lower point where the rocks ended. As they were stepping in, Neb cried:— “But your boat leaks, Pencroff.” “Oh, that’s nothing, Neb,” answered the sailor. “The wood has to drink! But in two days it will not show, and there will be as little water in our canoe as in the stomach of a drunkard! Come, get in!” They all embarked, and Pencroff pushed off. The weather was splendid, the sea was as calm as a lake, and the canoe could venture upon it with as much security as upon the tranquil current of the Mercy. Neb and Herbert took the oars, and Pencroff sat in the stern with the paddle as steersman. The sailor crossed the channel, and rounded the southern point of the islet. A gentle breeze was wafted from the south. There were no billows, but the canoe rose and fell with the long undulations of the sea, and they rowed out half a mile from the coast so as to get a view of the outline of Mount Franklin. Then, putting about, Pencroff returned towards the mouth of the river, and followed along the rounded shore which hid the low marshy ground of Tadorn’s Fen. The point, made longer by the bend of the coast, was three miles from the Mercy, and the colonists resolved to go past it far enough to obtain a hasty glance at the coast as far as Claw Cape.