We've got an island all to ourselves.
We'll take possession in the name of the king; we'll go and enter the
service of its black inhabitants. Of course we'll rise, naturally, to
the top of affairs. White men always do in savage countries. You shall
be king, Jack; Ralph, prime minister; and I shall be----"
"The court-jester," interrupted Jack.
"No," retorted Peterkin; "I'll have no title at all. I shall merely
accept a highly responsible situation under government; for you see,
Jack, I'm fond of having an enormous salary and nothing to do."
"But suppose there are no natives?"
"Then we'll build a charming villa, and plant a lovely garden round it,
stuck all full of the most splendiferous tropical flowers, and we'll
farm the land, plant, sow, reap, eat, sleep, and be merry."
"But to be serious," said Jack, assuming a grave expression of
countenance, which I observed always had the effect of checking
Peterkin's disposition to make fun of everything, "we are really in
rather an uncomfortable position. If this is a desert island, we shall
have to live very much like the wild beasts, for we have not a tool of
any kind, not even a knife."
"Yes, we have _that_," said Peterkin, fumbling in his trousers
pocket, from which he drew forth a small penknife with only one blade,
and that was broken.
"Well, that's better than nothing. But come," said Jack, rising; "we
are wasting our time in _talking_ instead of _doing_.
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