The Island Queen | Page 9

to have
been left on shore at the time."
"What a fellow you are, Dom, for supposing chances and difficulties,
and fancying they cannot be overcome," returned Otto, with the pert
self-sufficiency that characterised him. "For my part I rather enjoy
difficulties, because of the fun of overcoming them. Don't you see, we
three can make quite sure of never being separated by never going out
on our raft except together, so that we shall always enjoy ourselves
unitedly, or perish in company. Then we can easily get over the
difficulty of being blown out to sea, by never going on the sea at all,
but confining ourselves entirely to the lagoon, which is large enough
for any reasonable man, and may be larger than we think, for we can't
see the whole of it from where we stand. Then, as to sailing and rowing
slowly, we can overcome these difficulties by not being in a hurry,--
taking things easy, you know."
To this Dominick replied that there was one difficulty which his little
brother, with all his wisdom and capacity, would never overcome.
"And what may that be?" demanded Otto.

"The difficulty of being unable to talk common-sense."
"True, Dom, true, that is a great difficulty," retorted the boy, with deep
humility of aspect, "for a man's conversation is greatly affected by the
company he keeps, and with you as my only male companion, I have
not much to hope for in the way of example. But even that may be got
the better of by holding intercourse chiefly with Pina."
"But what if I refuse to talk?" said Pauline, with a laugh.
"Then will you be all the more able to listen, sister mine, which is the
most common-sense thing that you can do, except when brother Dom
speaks," said the incorrigible boy.
They had seated themselves on a bank while thus conversing, and from
their position could see over a considerable portion of the lagoon.
Suddenly Dominick pointed to an object a long way off, which was
half concealed by the shadow of an island.
"Does it not look like a canoe?" he asked eagerly.
"Can't make it out at all," said Otto, shading his eyes with his hand.
"The sun on the water dazzles one so," observed Pauline, "that it is
difficult to look steadily."
In a few moments the object which had drawn their attention sailed out
from under the shade of the island, and, breaking up into fragments,
rose into the air, proving itself to be a flock of large aquatic birds which
had been swimming in a line.
"Things are not what they seem," observed Pauline, rising and
following her brothers through a little thicket.
"What a pity!" exclaimed Otto; "I was in hopes it was a canoeful of
savages. It would be such fun to have a real Friday to be our servant."
"More likely that our Friday would kill, cook, and eat us if he could,"
said Dominick, to the surprise of Otto, who gave it as his opinion that

savages never ate men, and asked if his brother really believed that they
did.
"Indeed I do. We have it recorded by all the best authorities that South
Sea islanders are given to this horrible practice. There can be no doubt
about it whatever, and the less we see of these fellows in our present
defenceless state the better."
"How little," said Pauline, "our dear father thought when he wrote for
us to go out to him in his ship, that we should be cast on an unknown
island, and the ship itself go to the bottom!"
"Little indeed, and as little did poor mother dream of such a fate,"
returned Dominick, "when she let us all go so readily, on the
understanding that we should give father no rest until we had got him
to give up business, quit Java for ever, and return home."
"Dear old mother!" said Pauline, "I wish--oh! I wish so much that we
had not left her, even though it was to be for only a few months. She
must be so lonely, with no one to talk to--"
"You forget Pina."
"Forget--what?"
"The cat," returned Otto, unable to repress a smile, which rose in spite
of the ready tear that dimmed his eye at the mere mention of his mother.
"You know the cat is her great resource--a sort of safety-valve.
Sometimes, when I've been listening to her, lying on the rug at her feet
half asleep, I've heard her talk to that cat as if it really was a human
being, and tell it all about her little affairs and daily troubles and
worries in quite a confidential tone. I've taken it into my head that that's
mother's way of thinking aloud--she thinks at the