rpose. Accordingly I spliced
a couple of long poles together, but to my disappointment found them too
heavy to raise in the air. Bruno always joined in my enthusiasm when a
sail was in sight; in fact, he was generally the first to detect it, and
he would bark and drag at me until he had drawn my attention to the new
hope. And I loved him for his tender sympathy in my paroxysms of regret
and disappointment. The hairy head would rub coaxingly against my arm,
the warm tongue licking my hand, and the faithful brown eyes gazing at me
with a knowledge and sympathy that were more than human--these I feel
sure saved me again and again. I might mention that, although my boat
was absolutely useless for the purpose of escape, I did not neglect her
altogether, but sailed her about the enclosed lagoon by way of practice
in the handling of her sails. This was also a welcome recreation.

I never feared a lack of fresh water, for when, in the dry season, the
ship's stock and my reserve from the wet season were exhausted, I busied
myself with the condensing of sea water in my kettle, adding to my store
literally drop by drop. Water was the only liquid I drank, all the tea
and coffee carried on board having been rendered utterly useless.

The powerful winged birds that abounded on the island one day gave me an
idea: Why not hang a message around their necks and send them forth into
the unknown? Possibly they might bring help--who knows? And with me to
conceive was to act. I got a number of empty condensed-milk tins, and,
by means of fire, separated from the cylinder the tin disc that formed
the bottom. On this disc I scratched a message with a sharp nail. In a
few words I conveyed information about the wreck and my deplorable
condition. I also gave the approximate bearings--latitude fifteen to
thirteen degrees, not far from the Australian main.

These discs--I prepared several in English, French, bad Dutch, German,
and Italian--I then fastened round the necks of the pelicans, by means of
fish-gut, and away across the ocean sped the affrighted birds, so scared
by the mysterious encumbrance that _they never returned to the island_.

I may say here that more than twenty years later, when I returned to
civilisation, I chanced to mention the story about my messenger-birds to
some old inhabitants at Fremantle, Western Australia, when, to my
amazement, they told me that a pelican carrying a tin disc round its
neck, bearing a mess