When the good ship crashed upon the
rock and split in twain, it seemed like that all aboard must perish.
Fortunately OLIVER was made of stern mettle. Hastily constructing a
raft and placing the now unconscious JILL upon it, he launched it into
the seething maelstrom of waters and pushed off. Tossed like a
cockle-shell upon the mountainous waves, the tiny craft with its
precious freight was in imminent danger of foundering. But OLIVER was
made of stern mettle. With dauntless courage he rigged a jury-mast,
and placed a telescope to his eye. "Pull for the lagoon, JILL," cried
the dauntless OLIVER, and in another moment. . . .)
(As the raft glides into the still waters beyond the reef, we can see
it more clearly. Can it be JILL'S bed, with OLIVER in his pyjamas
perched on the rail, and holding up his bath-towel? Does he shorten
sail for a moment to thump his chest and say, "But OLIVER was made of
stern mettle"? Or is it----)
(But the sun is sinking behind the swamp where the rattlesnakes bask.
For a moment longer the sail gleams like copper in its rays, and
then--fizz-z--we have lost it. See! Is that speck on the inky black
waters the dauntless Oliver? It is. Let us follow to the island and
see what adventures befall him.
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