mpest, that during all
that time not one of the sailors dare set foot outside the cottage, and
had it not been for the merciful provision which God had bidden the
waves to bring to them, they must all have perished with hunger.

The fish was at length eaten, not a fin, nor a morsel of flesh remained,
and once more the sailors were forced to seek along the shore for
shell-fish, which was now their only food. Christoforo was one day
seated in the cottage. He had grown white and thin, and his long lank
hair looked dry and rusty, as it hung over his sunken cheeks. He was
gazing listlessly on the dull sea, and on the distant, cloud-like lines
which told of other islands, or may be of the main land far off.

"If we could only reach those shores," he thought, "may be men dwell
thereon, and we might find food. But we have neither boat nor wood
whereof to make one, neither have we strength to row, so seemeth there
no choice but we must all perish here; the will of God be done."

Raising his eyes, which had sunk while he pursued these sad thoughts, he
suddenly sprang to his feet, and with a glad shout cried, "Rejoice,
behold two come to seek us," and as he spoke, his companions, looking
out, saw two shepherd lads climbing the hill-side.

The strangers turned and fled in terror at the sight of man on this
lonely island, and the sailors following to the shore found there a
little boat in charge of an old man. They had learnt some prudence now,
and they approached quietly, making signs of good-will and of humility,
and asking by look and gesture his pity on their great distress. The two
lads soon came down and joined their father, and though none of the
three could understand a word of the Italian speech, it chanced that
there was one among the sailors, Girado da Lione by name, who had learnt
a few words of Norwegian, and by means of this interpreter they managed
to tell the visitors of their terrible needs.

The little boat would hold but two besides its owners, and Girado da
Lione and Bernardo the pilot were chosen to accompany the shepherds to
their home, and to get help to bring off all who remained of the
shipwrecked crew. On their way they questioned the shepherd, as well as
they could, on the cause of his journey to the island.

"A strange reason was it, truly, my friends," answered the old man, "but
my son can tell you better than I. Speak, my son."

The younger of the two oarsmen, a lad of about sixteen, answered
bas