Francisco shook hands with many of the crew, and wished all of them farewell. Indeed, now that they beheld the poor lad about to be cast on a desolate island, even those most opposed to him felt some emotions of pity. Although they acknowledged that his absence was necessary, yet they knew his determined courage; and with them that quality was always a strong appeal. [Illustration: _Before Francisco had gained the sand-bank she was hull-down to the northward._] 'Who will row this lad ashore, and bring the boat off?' 'Not I,' replied one; 'it would haunt me ever afterwards.' So they all appeared to think, for no one volunteered. Francisco jumped into the boat. 'There is no room for any one but me; and I will row myself on shore,' cried he. 'Farewell, my lads! farewell!' 'Stop! not so; he must not have the boat--he may escape from the island,' cried Hawkhurst. 'And why shouldn't he, poor fellow?' replied the men. 'Let him have the boat.' 'Yes--yes, let him have the boat;' and Hawkhurst was again overruled. 'Here, Massa Francisco--here de book.' 'What's that, sir?' cried Hawkhurst, snatching the book out of Pompey's hand. 'Him, massa, Bible.' Francisco waited for the book. 'Shove off!' cried Hawkhurst. 'Give me my book, Mr. Hawkhurst!' 'No!' replied the malignant rascal, tossing the Bible over the taffrail; 'he shall not have that. I've heard say that _there is consolation in it for the afflicted_.' Francisco shoved off his boat, and seizing his sculls, pushed astern, picked up the book, which still floated, and laid it to dry on the after-thwart of the boat. He then pulled in for the shore. In the meantime the schooner had let draw her foresheet, and had already left him a quarter of a mile astern. Before Francisco had gained the sand-bank she was hull-down to the northward. CHAPTER X THE SAND-BANK The first half-hour that Francisco was on this desolate spot he watched the receding schooner; his thoughts were unconnected and vague. Wandering through the various scenes which had passed on the decks of that vessel, and recalling to his memory the different characters of those on board of her, much as he had longed to quit her--disgusted as he had been with those with whom he had been forced to associate--still, as her sails grew fainter and fainter to his view, as she increased her distance, he more than once felt that even remaining on board of her would have been preferable to his present deserted lot. 'No, no!' exclaimed he, after a little further reflection, 'I had rather perish here, than continue to witness the scenes which I have been forced to behold.'