Smith took it, and without saying a word, withdrew the cork and took out a wet paper, on which was written these words:— “A shipwrecked man—Tabor Island:—l53° W. lon.—37° 11’ S. lat.” CHAPTER XXXV. DEPARTURE DECIDED UPON—PREPARATIONS—THE THREE PASSENGERS—THE FIRST NIGHT—THE SECOND NIGHT—TABOR ISLAND—SEARCH ON THE SHORE—SEARCH IN THE WOODS—NO ONE—ANIMALS—PLANTS—A HOUSE—DESERTED. “Some one shipwrecked!” cried Pencroff, “abandoned some hundred miles from us upon Tabor Island! Oh! Mr. Smith, you will no longer oppose my project!” “No, Pencroff, and you must leave as soon as possible.”. “To-morrow?” “To-morrow.” The engineer held the paper which he had taken from the bottle in his hand. He considered for a few moments, and then spoke:— “From this paper, my friends,” said he, “and from the manner in which it is worded, we must conclude that, in the first place, the person cast away upon Tabor Island is a man well informed, since he gives the latitude and longitude of his island exactly; secondly, that he is English or American, since the paper is written in English.” “That is a logical conclusion,” answered Spilett, “and the presence of this person explains the arrival of the box on our coast. There has been a shipwreck, since some one has been shipwrecked. And he is fortunate in that Pencroff had the idea of building this boat and even of trying it to-day, for in twenty-four hours the bottle would have been broken on the rocks.” “Indeed,!’ said Herbert, “it is a happy chance that the Good Luck passed by the very spot where this bottle was floating.” “Don’t it seem to you odd?” asked Smith of Pencroff. “It seems fortunate, that’s all,” replied the sailor. “Do you see anything extraordinary in it, sir? This bottle must have gone somewhere, and why not here as well as anywhere else?” “Perhaps you are right, Pencroff,” responded the engineer, “and nevertheless—” “But,” interrupted Herbert, “nothing proves that this bottle has floated in the water for a long time.” “Nothing,” responded Spilett, “and moreover the paper seems to have been recently written. What do you think, Cyrus?” “It is hard to decide.” answered Smith.. Meanwhile Pencroff had not been idle. He had gone about, and the Good Luck, with a free wind, all her sails drawing, was speeding toward Claw Cape. Each one thought of the castaway on Tabor Island. Was there still time to save him? This was a great event in the lives of the colonists. They too were but castaways, but it was not probable that another had been as favored as they had been, and it was their duty to hasten at once to this one’s relief. By 2 o’clock Claw Cape was doubled, and the Good Luck anchored at the mouth of the Mercy.