opean
in construction, and surrounded by a garden of gorgeous-hued coleus,
crotons, and other indigenous plants, and even the palings which
enclosed it were of growing saplings, so evenly trimmed as to resemble
an ivy-grown wall.

Seated in front of the open door were a man and woman. The latter rose
and came to meet Manson, who raised his hat as the lady held out her
hand, and he told her who he was.

"Come inside," she said, in a soft, pleasant voice. "This is my husband,
Captain Hollister. Our vessel was lost on this island twenty-eight
months ago, and you are the first white man we have seen since then."

The blind man made his visitor welcome, but without effusion, and begged
him to be seated. What especially struck Manson was the calm, quiet
manner of all three. They received him as if they were used to seeing
strangers, and betrayed no unusual agitation. Yet they were deeply
thankful for his coming. The house consisted of three rooms, and had
been made extremely comfortable by articles of cabin furniture. The
table was laid for breakfast, and as Manson sat down, the little girl
hurriedly milked a goat, and brought in a small gourd of milk. In a
few minutes Hollister's slight reserve had worn off, and he related his
strange story.

His vessel (of which he was owner) was a topsail schooner of 130 tons,
and had sailed from Singapore in a trading cruise among the Pacific
Islands. For the first four months all went well. Many islands had been
visited with satisfactory results, and then came disaster, swift and
terrible. Hollister told of it in few and simple words.

"We were in sight of this island and in the middle watch were becalmed.
The night was close and sultry, and we had made all ready for a blow
of some sort. For two hours we waited, and then in an instant the whole
heavens were alight with chain and fork lightning. My Malay crew bolted
below, and as they reached the fore-scuttle, two of them were struck
dead, and flames burst out on the fore-part of the ship. I sprang
forward, and was half-way along the deck, when I, too, was struck down.
For an hour I was unconscious, and when I revived knew that my sight was
gone for ever.

"My mate was a good seaman, but old and wanting in nerve. Still, with
the aid of some of the terrified crew, and amidst a torrential downpour
of rain which almost immediately began to fall, he did what he could to
save the ship. In half an hour the rain ceased, and then the wind