“It’s too big for either a ship or a whale,” said the captain.  “Let us sail toward it and make an inspection.”

“Don’t—­don’t run into any new danger!” pleaded Mr. Tarbill.

“Anything is better than to remain out on this dreary waste of waters,” answered Mr. Carr.

The castaways turned their boat in the direction of the distant object.  It was further off than they had anticipated, and as they slowly approached they made out a long, low-lying island, covered with bushes and grass.  Over the island hovered myriads of birds.

“An island!” cried Bob.  “Now we can go ashore anyhow!”

“Not much of a place, I am afraid,” answered Captain Spark, slowly taking in the spot from end to end with his sharp eyes.

“Well, it’s better nor nuthin,” came from Tim Flynn.  “Sure, an’ some av thim burds will make good eatin’, so they will!”

“We want to be careful how we go ashore,” cautioned the captain.  “We don’t want to damage our boat.”

They approached the new land cautiously.  The water all around it seemed to be deep, so there was no danger of striking a hidden reef.

Presently the captain espied a sandy beach, and straight for this the craft was headed.  As the boat struck, Bob, Tim and Ned leaped out, followed by Mr. Carr, and, aided by the swells, pulled her well up.

“Am I—­er—­to get out?” asked Mr. Tarbill timidly.

“As you please,” answered Captain Spark, grimly.  “I am going ashore.”

“Then I’ll go, too—­I don’t want to be left alone,” said the nervous passenger.

Soon all were on the beach, and then the boat was dragged higher up still, and tied to several of the low trees near by.

“Let me shoot some birds—­they will make fine eating,” said Bob to the captain, and permission being given, the young castaway went on a brief hunt.  The birds were so thick that he had little difficulty in bringing down several dozen.

“Now we can have a bird pot-pie for supper,” declared Mr. Carr, and he looked greatly pleased, and so did the others.

All realized that the island upon which they had landed was not to be compared to that upon which they had previously been cast.  The trees were of small account, none of them bearing fruit fit to eat.  Some of the bushes contained berries, and Ned began to gather a cupful.

“Go slow there, Ned,” said the captain.  “They may be poisonous.”

“They can’t be—­for I saw the birds feeding on, them,” said Bob.

“Oh, well, then it is all right.”

But the berries proved rather bitter to the taste and nobody felt like eating many of them.  Tim started a fire, and over this they broiled and roasted the birds, each fixing the evening meal in the way that best suited him.

“Are there any cannibals here?” asked Mr. Tarbill.

“I don’t believe there is a soul on the island besides ourselves,” answered the captain.