them, I formed something like an Indian
wigwam, strengthened by the heavier pieces of driftwood. I observed
that Owen moved about with difficulty, and looked ill, but he made no
remark on the subject.

"Now go and collect dry leaves and grass for my bed. Be off with you,"
he exclaimed, glaring fiercely at me.

I obeyed as before, but when I returned, time after time, laden with
bundles of grass, not an expression of approval even did he utter. Thus
he kept me employed for the greater part of the day, and when I proposed
collecting some grass for my own bed, he told me that I could not occupy
his hut but must form one of boughs for myself. Such is an example of
the way he treated me, not for one day only, but for day after day, not
one passing without my being struck and cursed. It is wonderful that I
could have borne it, but I was not weary of my life, and I had resolved
to show my gratitude to him for having preserved it. I was very
anxious, however, to escape, and whenever I could get away from him, I
used to go to the highest part of the island to look out, in the hopes
of a ship appearing. With indefatigable labour, I cut out a long pole
and fixed it in the ground, with a part of my shirt, as a signal,
fastened to the end. When Owen found out what I had done, he ordered me
to take it down, and not again to visit the hill.

"Ah! ha! youngster, you've friends you wish to return to, and wealth you
long to enjoy. I have neither, and I don't intend to let you go while I
can prevent it."

This was almost more than I could bear, and I could not trust myself to
reply to him. I might fill a volume with my extraordinary life on that
islet in the Pacific--how I slaved on for that determined, stern,
evil-disposed man. Constant occupation enabled me to keep my own
health. I found cocoa-nuts and numerous roots and fruits, and invented
various ways of cooking them. I even made clothes of the bark of the
paper mulberry-tree, so that I was able to save my own before they were
quite worn out. Thus months passed away. I might have lived there from
youth to old age, as far as the necessaries of life were concerned, but
it was dreary work. Owen grew worse and worse, and I became convinced
that his days were numbered. He did not seem to be aware of the state
of the case, though rapidly growing weaker. I may honestly say that I
felt deep compassion for him. I told him at last that I thought him
very ill, and feared