It was Spinkie!  In the midst of the unusual horrors that surrounded him, while clinging to the unfamiliar mizzen shrouds on which in desperation the poor monkey had found a temporary refuge, the electric fire showed him the dark figure of his old familiar friend standing not far off.  With a shriek of not quite hopeless despair, and an inconceivable bound, Spinkie launched himself into space.  His early training in the forest stood him in good stead at that crisis!  As already said he hit the mark fairly, and clung to Moses with a tenacity that was born of mingled love and desperation.  Finding that nothing short of cruelty would unfix his little friend, Moses stuffed him inside the breast of his cotton shirt.  In this haven of rest the monkey heaved a sigh of profound contentment, folded his hands on his bosom, and meekly went to sleep.

Two of the excessively violent paroxysms of the volcano, above referred to, had by that time taken place, but the third, and worst—­that which occurred about 10 A.M.—­was yet in store for them, though they knew it not, and a lull in the roar, accompanied by thicker darkness than ever, was its precursor.  There was not, however, any lull in the violence of the wind.

“I don’t like these lulls,” said Captain Roy to the hermit, as they stood close to the binnacle, in the feeble light of its lamp.  “What is that striking against our sides, Mr. Moor?”

“Looks like floating pumice, sir,” answered the second mate, “and I think I see palm-trees amongst it.”

“Ay, I thought so, we must be close to land,” said the captain.  “We can’t be far from Anjer, and I fear the big waves that have already passed us have done some damage.  Lower a lantern over the side,—­no, fetch an empty tar-barrel and let’s have a flare.  That will enable us to see things better.”

While the barrel was being fastened to a spar so as to be thrust well out beyond the side of the brig, Van der Kemp descended the companion and opened the cabin door.

“Come up now, Winnie, darling.”

“Yes, father,” was the reply, as the poor girl, who had been anxiously awaiting the summons, glided out and clasped her father’s arm with both hands.  “Are things quieting down?”

“They are, a little.  It may be temporary, but—­Our Father directs it all.”

“True, father.  I’m so glad of that!”

“Mind the step, we shall have more light on deck.  There is a friend there who has just told me he met you on the Cocos-Keeling Island, Nigel Roy;—­you start, Winnie?”

“Y—­yes, father.  I am so surprised, for it is his father who sails this ship!  And I cannot imagine how he or you came on board.”

“Well, I was going to say that I believe it is partly through Nigel that you and I have been brought together, but there is mystery about it that I don’t yet understand; much has to be explained, and this assuredly is not the time or place.  Here, Nigel, is your old Keeling friend.”