"I must give you some food first," he said, hurrying away. He brought
some fish and yams, which much restored my strength; but when I tried to
get up and accompany him, I was unable to walk.
He went off with a long pole and a rope in his hand, telling me that I
might rest without anxiety, as there were neither savages nor wild
beasts in the island to injure me.
The warm sun soon dried my clothes, and, creeping under the shade of a
rock, I fell asleep. I was awoke by hearing voices, and to my great
joy, on looking up, I saw the old man, accompanied by Bill, who told me
that he had clung to the timber, which had been drifted some way along
the shore into a sheltered bay, where it had grounded. Thence he had
scrambled over the rocks, and after searching in vain for me, had sat
down in deep grief, under the idea that I had been lost.
Assisted by Bill, the old man led me to his hut, built against the side
of rock at the foot of a high hill. Here he placed before us some more
food.
"I cannot but welcome you, my lads," he said; "for I have spent three
weary years in solitude since I was wrecked off this island, I being the
sole survivor of a whole ship's company. Though I have constantly been
on the look-out since then, not a sail has come near enough to see my
signals--the flag I have hoisted by day, and the beacons I have kept
burning at night. When I caught sight of your ship yesterday, I was in
hopes that she was approaching; but when the gale came on I knew she
could only do so with great peril, and was thankful when I saw her
weather the island."