t lived, I should like to know?"

"There was a man called Alexander Selkirk, who was left there from one
of Lord Anson's ships, and a first-rate writer--Daniel Defoe by name--
got hold of his account, on which he founded the story of Robinson
Crusoe," I answered.

"I tell you that is all bosh," said Jerry. "I don't believe that any
man who had not gone through every scene he describes, could have given
as good an account of them as does Robinson Crusoe; so I intend to stick
to my belief, and not care what anybody else says on the subject." I
must own that I felt very much inclined to agree with Jerry, and to look
on Defoe very much in the light of a pirate, who had got hold of a ship
which did not belong to him. The important discussion was cut short by
the report of the first mate, who had again gone aloft with his glass to
take another look at the object seen ahead.

"As far as I can see, I've no doubt that it is the hull of a ship
floating bottom uppermost," he sung out; "but whether any one is still
clinging to her or not, is more than I can make out."

"Get one of the boats ready, Mr Brand; we'll board the wreck, at all
events," said the captain. While the boat was quickly prepared, we made
good progress towards the wreck.

"There is a man on her; I can see him clearly," sung out the third mate
from forward. "He is lying along the keel. He is alive; he sees us; he
is waving to us."

As soon as the ship got up to the wreck, she was hove-to, and I followed
Mr Brand, with Ben Yool, into the boat. There was still a great deal
of sea running; and when we got up to the wreck, there was no little
danger, we discovered, in getting alongside her. There were masts and
spars still hanging on by the rigging around her, which would at once
have stove in our boat if we had got among them incautiously, and we
should very likely have lost our own lives. There was only one man on
the ship's bottom; we saw him just lifting his head and watching us
anxiously as we pulled round. We could discover no spot free from
danger; so we pulled off again to consult what was best to be done. The
poor wretch thought we were going to desert him, and shouted out to us
in English and Spanish, imploring us to have compassion on him, and save
his life.

"Ay, ay, friend!" answered Ben Yool. "Don't suppose we'd leave you
there; we should be rum sort of Christians to do that. Wait a bit;
we'll get you off directly."

"He appears to