"They said they didn't want us aboard. I
guess they was afraid we'd give evidence against them, if we ever got
the chance, and so I would."
"And did you land here?" asked Cora, indicating the lonely isle.
"Not at first, Miss. We tossed about in the boat and the sea got
higher and the wind stronger. And how it did rain! It seemed to
beat right through your skin. The rain helped to keep the seas down,
but not much. It was fearful!"
He then went on to tell how, after laboring hard in the darkness of
the night, the boat he was in (five other sailors being his
companions) was swamped by a huge wave. He was tossed into the sea,
and must have been rendered unconscious by a blow on the head, for he
remembered nothing more until he found himself being washed back and
forth on the beach by the waves, and at last had understanding and
strength enough to crawl up beyond the reach of the water.
So he had come to Lonely Island. And there he had existed ever
since.
Some few things--including the cap that had been of such value to our
friends--had been washed ashore from the boat, or otherwise Ben might
have starved at first, for he was too weak to hunt for food.
Gradually he regained the power to help himself.
He found mussels clinging to the rocks, he gathered some turtles
eggs, and was lucky enough to kill a bird with a stone. On such food
he lived. For shelter he made himself a hut of bark and vines, and
so the days passed in loneliness.
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