Jack was in a more than usually downhearted state as to their not being able to get away from the place that they were on. He said that so far as he could see, they might have to live there all their lives and then die, and no one be the wiser of it. Tom was feeling gloomy himself on this particular day, and he felt very impatient at poor Jack when he began his complaining. He felt that if complaints were to be made, it was he that should make them, and not Jack, for had he not much more to lose by staying where he was than the other? I know how selfish this was, but there are times when we are given over to spells of selfishness, and, though such a state may be very wrong, it is yet very natural. “You might just as well have patience, Jack,” said he, “We’ve tried to get away already, and you know what came of it. We certainly can’t live here forever without sighting a vessel of some sort at some time or other.” “We haven’t seen a sign of a ship up to this time,” said Jack, gloomily. “That’s very true, and maybe we’ll have to wait till the war’s over before one comes along. You know very well that there’s no shipping being done nowadays.” “Wait till the war’s over!” cried Jack, raising himself suddenly on his elbow; “why, heavens and earth, man, it may be half a dozen years to come, before the war’s over!” “Perhaps it may be a dozen years, for all that I know,” said Tom, “but all the same you’ll have to wait, so you may just as well keep your tongue still between your teeth, and be patient about it!” “Wait?” cried Jack, and he thumped his clenched fist down on the sand. “By G—I’ll not wait! I’ll do something; see if I don’t! I’ll not let any twenty miles of water keep me tied up in this God-forsaken place! Why don’t you do something? You’re so full of your d—d contrivances for making us comfortable; why don’t you puzzle out some plan for getting us off altogether?” Tom was lying on the sand, his hands under his head, and one leg crossed comfortably over the other. He did not move while Jack was talking, and he made a point of seeming to be very easy under it, but he was getting more and more angry all the time. He did not answer Jack immediately, but after a while he spoke as quietly as he could. “You’re unreasonable, Jack,” said he. “Haven’t I done everything that I could do to get us away; haven’t I built a raft and put up signals on the sand hills; haven’t I set a dozen or more bladder-bags adrift? The chances are that some of them’ll be picked up, and in good time a ship’ll come to us. I don’t see that you have any reason to complain, and if you have reason, you’d better try to do something yourself;—you’re welcome to it. As for our getting away;—we’ve tried to get away already, and you know what came of it. In my opinion we came so devilish near getting away, that we liked never to have got back to this or to any other island.” “Do you mean to say that you’re so scared at a little risk that you’re afraid to try it over again?”