They were all deep-chested, strong-voiced men in the prime of life; and what a noise they did make, to be sure! "You're not too soon, boys," said the smith; "old Moll has been quite anxious about a mysterious _something_ in the big pot there." "Let me help you to take it off the fire, mother," said the gallant tar, stepping forward. "Nay, that's my duty," cried Harry, leaping to the front, and seizing the pot, which he dragged from the flames with professional ability. When the _something_ was displayed, it was found to be a gorgeous meat-pudding of the most tempting character--round and heavy like a cannon-ball. Of course it did not flourish alone. Old Moll had been mysteriously engaged the greater part of that day over the fire, and the result was a feast worthy, as her husband said, "of the King of the Cannibal Islands." "Talking of Cannibal Islands," said Dick, the sailor, during a pause in the feast, "you've no idea what a glorious place that Pacific Ocean is, with its coral islands, palm-groves, and sunshine. It would be just the place to make you well again, Molly. You'd grow fat in a month." "Ha; get fat, would she," growled Bob, the soldier, "so as to be ready for the first nigger-chief that took a fancy to have her cooked for supper--eh? Never fear, Molly, we won't let you go to the Cannibal Islands. Give us another cut o' that cannon-ball, mother. It's better eating than those I've been used to see skipping over the battlefield." "But they're not _all_ Cannibal Islands, man," returned Dick; "why, wherever the missionaries go, there the niggers get to be as well-behaved as you are. D'you know, Molly, I've really been thinking of cutting the service, and emigrating somewhere, if you and Fred would go with me." "It would be charming!" replied Molly, with a sweet though languid smile. "We'd live in a wooden hut, roofed with palm-leaves, and while you and Fred were away hunting for dinner, I would milk the buffaloes, and boil the cocoa-nuts!" "Ah, Molly," said Tom, the Coastguardsman, stroking his bushy beard, "the same idea has been running in my head, as well as in Dick's, ever since we got that letter from Jim, telling us of the beauty of his new home, and urging us all to emigrate. I've more than half a mind to join him out there, if you and the old folk will consent to go." "You're not serious, are you, Tom?" asked Harry, the fireman, laying down his knife and fork. "Indeed I am." "Well, you might do worse. I would join you myself, if there were only houses enough to insure a fire or two every month." "Why, man," said Fred Harper, "in these lands the whole forest goes on fire sometimes--surely that would suffice to keep your spirits up and your heart warm."