barked in a fine stately ship, which was to bear them in
safety to their home.

Tonza seemed full of joy as he saw the last lines of the Indian coast
disappear. He had rarely appeared so happy since his marriage with
Lianor five years before.

For several days the good ship went steadily on her way, until one
night a terrific storm arose, and the vessel, heedless of the human
cargo it was bearing, drifted onward at the mercy of the tempest.

Tonza, holding Lianor and his children closely to him, stood silently
dismayed, scarcely able to realize the awful danger which lay before
him and those he loved.

Still onward, through the almost impenetrable darkness, went the
doomed ship, until, as the dense shadows began to clear and the storm
to cease, a sudden shock was felt by all--she had struck against some
rocks and was slowly sinking!

"We must be somewhere near land," the captain cried, his voice
sounding above the roaring waters.

By aid of the fast-breaking dawn, they could see the line of high,
dark rocks, upon which the ship had met her fate.

With much difficulty and peril, under the captain's cool directions,
the crew managed at last to leave the sinking vessel, not without much
loss of life. Out of nearly five hundred only a few arrived in safety,
amongst whom were Tonza, his wife, children, Savitre, and Panteleone.

When the day broke in calm splendor, the sun shown upon a mournful
sight--a group of shipwrecked men and women.

No sign of habitation met their view; only a weary waste of bare land,
sheltered by a few trees, from whose branches hung a goodly supply of
fruit.

"If we go farther inland, we are sure to find some natives, if only
savages," Tonza remarked gravely; and followed by the men, he
commenced the long, weary way.

Lianor, pale but firm, holding in her arms her little daughter, walked
beside him, heedless of the fatigue which oppressed her and made her
long to sink upon the sandy ground to rest.

Onward they went, never pausing to rest their tired feet until, as the
day was about to decline, they came to a deep waterfall, over which
they had to cross. No easy task, as the only means of doing so was by
an uneven path, made from a line of rocks, on either side of which the
boiling waters poured in terrific fury.

Tonza--who, now the captain had perished, placed himself at the head
of the crew--was the first to put his foot upon the crossing; then,
turning to the people, he said: