Two Sailor Lads by Gordon Stables

Not a breath of wind, not a sigh came over the sea. Never a cloud as big even as a man's hand in all the bright steel-blue of heaven's great dome, only the slightest pearly haze lying low on the horizon wherever one might look, and all between the glittering sun-kissed ocean.

It was no dead ocean this, however, on which our heroes, leaning over the bulwarks and talking almost in whispers, were gazing. No, the great sea was not dead, but sleeping. Note the gentle heaving of its placid bosom, rising and falling as if 'twere imbued with the breath of life. The white-winged sea-gulls that float on the water seem to have been lulled to sleep, too, by that swelling motion. Even the ship herself nods drowsily to and fro, and the useless sails half fill and flap to every dip of the masts.

Yes, the surface of the sea is all a-glitter in the sun's rays; but it is not the sheen that sailors love, the reflection is like that from polished pewter, and forebodes either a long dead calm, or a sudden storm coming in a direction no man can even guess at.

There is languor in the tropical air to-day. Even some frigate birds appear to feel it, for they have alighted with their long, drooping wings on the top-most yards, and hardly care to fly again. The gulls sail slowly but silently round the ship, as if too indolent even to scream; yonder nautilus, or Portuguese man-o'-war, that looks as if it had borrowed its cerulean colours from the azure of the sky itself, can scarcely move along. There is not wind enough to fill even its dainty sails, and see, what is that lying over yonder dark and curious? Fred Arundel lazily lifts the glass, and gazes in that direction.

"It is a shark," he says with half a shudder, "asleep, I think, in the morning sunshine, and with sea birds perching on its fins."

Frank answers not. His eyes are riveted on some far-off green-fringed mountains. It is an island, but it does not seem to lie in the sea. No, it is up in the sky, and floating there like a veritable fairyland.

Now Frank yawns and stretches himself, and next moment a hand is laid on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Señor Sarpinto standing smiling beside him. He is in dressing-gown and slippers, with the never-failing cigarette between his lips.

"My young friend is tired."

"Si, señor," says Frank, "I am tired -- tired doing nothing. I'd fain be yonder."

He points to the distant island.

Señor takes the telescope, and looks long and earnestly at it.

"Ah! " he says, or rather sighs, "what a land of delight it is! And all the islands around here, how rich and varied! Young Frank, the day will come when each will bear its own happy population of prosperous white men. There are not even savages on yonder isle. It waits but for a Christian population. And there is wealth yonder too, wealth untold!"

Fred looks at the Spaniard in some little surprise. He had never heard the man talk thus enthusiastically before. Then a happy idea appears to strike Frank all at once.

"Señor," he says, "you have influence with the captain. Ask him for a boat, that we may visit yonder isle."

"I will not go there to-day," replies the señor, shrugging his shoulders.

Frank's face falls.

"There is not a banana nor a cocoanut in the ship," he says with a faint smile.

Señor looks at him quizzingly.

"Ha! " he answers, "it is not the banana, it is not the cocoanut my young friend wants, but the wild adventure. Well, he shall not be disappointed."

Away below hurries the Spaniard; but he soon returns laughing.