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Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael), 1825-1894

"The Coral Island A Tale of the Pacific Ocean"

When
all was ready, we laid aside our garments, with the exception of our
trousers, which, as we did not know what rough scraping against the
rocks we might be subjected to, we kept on.
Then we advanced to the edge of the rocks, Jack carrying one bundle,
with the torch, I the other, with the things for producing fire.
"Now don't weary for us, Peterkin, should we be gone some time," said
Jack; "we'll be sure to return in half-an-hour at the very latest,
however interesting the cave should be, that we may relieve your mind."
"Farewell!" said Peterkin, coming up to us with a look of deep but
pretended solemnity, while he shook hands and kissed each of us on the
cheek. "Farewell! and while you are gone I shall repose my weary limbs
under the shelter of this bush, and meditate on the changefulness of
all things earthly, with special reference to the forsaken condition of
a poor shipwrecked sailor boy!" So saying, Peterkin waved his hand,
turned from us, and cast himself upon the ground with a look of
melancholy resignation, which was so well feigned that I would have
thought it genuine had he not accompanied it with a gentle wink. We
both laughed, and springing from the rocks together, plunged head first
into the sea.
We gained the interior of the submarine cave without difficulty, and,
on emerging from the waves, supported ourselves for some time by
treading water, while we held the two bundles above our heads.


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