Great was the interest aroused on board the Topaz when Jack Brace narrated his experiences among the islanders, and Captain Folger resolved to pay them a visit. He did so next day, accompanied by the Englishman and some of the other men, the sight of whom gladdened the eyes and hearts of Adams and his large family.

 

Besides assuring himself of the truth of Brace’s statements, the Captain obtained additional proof of the truth of Adams’s account of himself and his community in the form of the chronometer and azimuth compass of the Bounty.

 

“How many did you say your colony consists of?” asked Folger.

 

“Thirty-five all told, sir,” answered Adams; “but I fear we shall be only thirty-four soon.”

 

“How so?”

 

“One of our lads, a dear boy of about eight years of age, is dying, I fear,” returned Adams, sadly.

 

“I’m sorry to hear it, and still more sorry that I have no doctor in my ship,” said Folger, “but I have a smatterin’ of doctors’ work myself. Let me see him.”

 

Adams led the way to the hut where poor James Young lay, tenderly nursed by Mary Christian. The boy was lying on his bed as they entered, gazing wistfully out at the little window which opened from the side of it like the port-lights or bull’s-eyes of a ship’s berth. His young nurse sat beside him with the Bounty Bible open on her knees. She shut it and rose as the strangers entered.

 

The poor invalid was too weak to take much interest in them. He was extremely thin, and breathed with great difficulty. Nevertheless his face flushed, and a gleam of surprise shot from his eyes as he turned languidly towards the Captain.

 

“My poor boy,” said Folger, taking his hand and gently feeling his pulse, “do you suffer much?”

 

“Yes,—very much,” said little James, with a sickly smile.

 

“Can you rest at all?” asked the Captain.

 

“I am—always—resting,” he replied, with a pause between each word; “resting—on Jesus.”

 

The Captain was evidently surprised by the answer.

 

“Who told you about Jesus?” he asked.

 

“God’s book—and—the Holy—Spirit.”

 

It was obvious that the exertion of thinking and talking was not good for poor little James. Captain Folger therefore, after smoothing the hair on his forehead once or twice very tenderly, bade him good-bye, and went out.

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