“How beautiful it is!” exclaimed Herbert. “Yes, she is a pretty creature,” responded Pencroff. “I love her as a mother. She received us poor and needy, and what has she denied to these five children who tumbled upon her out of the sky?” “Nothing, captain, nothing,” answered Neb. And the two honest fellows gave three hearty cheers in honor of their island. Meantime, Spilett, seated by the mast, sketched the panorama before him, while Smith looked on in silence. “What do you say of our boat, now, sir?” demanded Pencroff. “It acts very well,” replied the engineer. “Good. And now don’t you think it could undertake a voyage of some length?” “Where, Pencroff?” “To Tabor Island, for instance.” “My friend,” replied the engineer, “I believe that in a case of necessity there need be no hesitancy in trusting to the Good Luck even for a longer journey; but, you know, I would be sorry to see you leave for Tabor Island, because nothing obliges you to go.” “One likes to know one’s neighbors,” answered Pencroff, whose mind was made up. “Tabor Island is our neighbor, and is all alone. Politeness requires that at least we make her a visit.” “The mischief!” exclaimed Spilett, “our friend Pencroff is a stickler for propriety.” “I am not a stickler at all,” retorted the sailor, who was a little vexed by the engineer’s opposition. “Remember, Pencroff,” said Smith, “that you could not go the island alone.” “One other would be all I would want.” “Supposing so,” replied the engineer, “would you risk depriving our colony of five, of two of its colonists?” “There are six,” rejoined Pencroff. “You forget Jup.” “There are seven,” added Neb. “Top is as good as another.” “There is no risk in it, Mr. Smith,” said Pencroff again. “Possibly not, Pencroff; but, I repeat, that it is exposing oneself without necessity.” The obstinate sailor did not answer, but let the conversation drop for the present. He little thought that an incident was about to aid him, and change to a work of humanity what had been merely a caprice open to discussion. The Good Luck, after having stood out to sea, was returning towards the coast and making for Balloon Harbor, as it was important to locate the channel-way between the shoals and reefs so as to buoy them, for this little inlet was to be resting place of the sloop. They were half a mile off shore, beating up to windward and moving somewhat slowly, as the boat was under the lee of the land. The sea was as smooth as glass. Herbert was standing in the bows indicating the channel-way. Suddenly he cried:— “Luff, Pencroff, luff.” “What is it?” cried the sailor, springing to his feet. “A rock?” “No—hold on, I cannot see very well—luff again—steady—bear away a little—” and while thus speaking, the lad lay down along the deck, plunged his arm quickly into the water, and then rising up again with something in his hand, exclaimed:— “It is a bottle!”