veral chests,
containing ever so many sailors' clothes of all sorts; whether there
were any shoes or not, I don't remember: the Swiss family Robinson also
obtained an abundance of such things from the wreck of their ship before
it sunk; Philip Quarll made garments for himself from the skins of
animals."

"But what are we to do? we havn't any wreck from which to supply
ourselves with chests of clothing, with arms and ammunition, and stores
of ship-biscuit and salt provisions. We're worse off it seems, than any
of our predecessors. And since we are not supplied with the requisite
capital and stock-in-trade for desert islanders, it is reasonable to
infer that we are not destined to a Robinson Crusoe life, so that we may
confidently expect to be taken off by some ship, in a short time."

As we were finishing our breakfast, a couple of tiny, fairy-like tern,
came flying round us. They were very tame, and hovered smoothly over
our heads, at the distance of sometimes but a few feet. Their plumage
was snowy-white, and as they glided quietly around, peering curiously
into our faces, you could almost fancy that there was the gleam of
intelligence in their large eyes.

"O, what beautiful little birds!" cried Johnny, in great delight: "I
wish I had some crumbs of bread for them."

"Who knows, Johnny," suggested Max, "but these strange little birds, as
they seem to be, are no birds, after all, but an unfortunate prince and
princess, who having incurred the resentment of some potent enchanter,
have been transformed by his magical arts into their present shape, and
banished to this desert island; and have now come to us for sympathy and
assistance--see what a mournful expression there is in their mild dark
eyes!" Johnny was pleased with the conceit, and the little tern were
always afterwards known as the prince and princess. They frequently
came hovering around us in the most friendly and fearless manner, when
we were in that part of the island.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE PROGRESS OF DISCOVERY.

A VOICE IN THE WOODS--VIVE NAPOLEON!--CALCULATING THE LONGITUDE--THE
"WILD FRENCHMAN'S" HAT.

_Stephano_. Hark! what sound is that?
_Caliban_. Art thou afeard, master?
_Stephano_. No, monster, not I.
_Caliban_. Be not afeard: the isle is full of noises.

Our failure to discover fresh water, or any indications of it, during
yesterday's expedition, increased the anxiety which we felt on the
subject and we determi