Here we are, on the wide Pacific, in a well-appointed schooner, which is our own,--at least no one has a better claim to it than we have,--and the world lies before us.

Moreover, here comes a breeze, so we must make up our minds which way to steer." "Ralph, boy," said my companion, "it matters not to me which way we go.

I fear that my time is short now.

Go where you will.

I'm content." "Well then, Bill, I think we had better steer to the Coral Island, and see what has become of my dear old comrades, Jack and Peterkin.