Cruz
bound for the Yellow Sea, which signalled us "All well" at six bells in
the afternoon watch. From that time I went dead slow and began to bring
the Southern Cross about. The work was begun that very hour, I always
say.

Now, I've told all this, short and brief, and with no talk of my own
about it. The thing had come so sudden, I knew so little of Ruth
Bellenden's trouble or of what had befallen her on the island, that I
was like a man in the dark groping blindly, yet set on hearing the
truth. As for the crew, well, you may be sure that Dolly Venn had put
his side of the story about, and when they knew that my mistress was
ashore there and in some danger, I believe they'd have put me in irons
if I'd so much as spoken of going back.

Risky it was, so much I won't deny; but who wouldn't risk more than his
own paltry skin to save a woman in trouble, and she, so to speak, a
shipmate? There was not a man aboard, stake my life, who wouldn't have
gone to the land willingly for Ruth Bellenden's sake though he'd been
told, sure and certain, that Ken's Island must be his grave. And we'd
always the ship, mind you, and the knowledge that she would go to
'Frisco to get us help. A fool's hope, I say now. For how could we know
that the Southern Cross would be at the bottom of the sea, a thousand
fathoms down, before the week was run? We couldn't know it; yet that
was what happened, and that is why no help came to us.

We had put the ship about at six bells in the afternoon watch, but it
was eight bells in the second dog (the night being too clear for my
liking and a full moon showing bright in the sky) that we sighted Ken's
Island for the second time, and for the second time prepared to go
ashore. The longboat was ready by this time, her barrels full of water
and her lockers full of biscuit. Such arms as we were to carry were
partly stowed in water-proof sheeting--the rifles, and the cartridges
for them; but the revolvers we carried, and a good Sheffield knife a
man, which we weren't going to cut potatoes with. For the rest, I made
them put in a few stout blankets, and more rations than might have
served for such a trip. "Good beginnings make good endings," said I;
"what we haven't need of, lads, we can carry aboard again. The
longboat's back won't ache, be sure of it."

All this, I say, was done when the moon showed us the island like a
great barren rock rising up sheer from the sea. And when it was done,
Mister Jacob called