d you like to live here?"
_Gatty._--"I'll be Robinson Crusoe, and you shall be my Man Friday."
_Winny._--"You must be Mrs. Robinson Crusoe, Gatty, because you are a
woman."
_Mother._--"Then I suppose we had better go away, and leave you two
here."
_Oscar._--"Oh no! don't do that, but we will go and live at the top of
that rock, and make believe to be Crusoe and Friday; only, Gatty, if I
let you be Crusoe, you must let me have a gun, and I must not sit at
your feet, and have to read, because I can do that already quite well.
The best thing will be for us both to be Crusoe, and have no Friday at
all, because I shall have to black myself."
_Sybil._--"And I know that won't please you at all, you little Eton
dandy, with your smart waistcoat, white tie, and shining boots."
_Oscar._--"Why you know, aunt Sib, we are no longer sailors now. We must
dress as shore-going folks. Besides, we don't know if there may not be
company here."
_Madame_ (turning quite pale).--"Oh dear! Do you think there are any
savages likely to be near us. I have such a dread of them."
_Capt._ (laughing).--"Why, Ma'am, from all I could see of this island,
there isn't much room for them and us, and there cannot be many of them
at any rate. If there are, they will show themselves soon."
_Schillie._--"I would advise an exploring excursion, that we may see who
has possession of this island besides ourselves. It would be as well to
know if we have foes, either man or beasts. I know one person," with a
slight glance at me, "who will be as fidgety as she is high if her
mind's not at rest. She'll see a savage in every bush, a tiger behind
every stone, and sharks walking on the sand swallowing brats like pills.
It did not seem very large, captain, though we can hardly tell now,
walled in as we are by these great cliffs."
_Capt._--"I think your advice very sensible, Madam. It will ease my mind
too, very much, to know that you are exposed to no danger while I am
busy overhauling the ship. Here comes Mr. Skead, and we'll take his
opinion. Ah! good Mr. Austin, you're a sair miss."
This apostrophe to the memory of our kind good mate was heartily
responded to by all. Amongst others who were lost in that fatal night
was the old Scotch sailor; but the subject was so painful to us, we
never recurred to it, if possible. We could not recover the shock of
such a fatal parting from our late companions.
We gave Mr. Skead some breakfast, and then entered
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