He was bold, enterprising, active, quick at repartee, and good-natured. He was generally liked, and when the schooner was in difficulties his companions, with a few exceptions, did as he told them, principally, as we know, from his having gained some nautical knowledge on his way out from Europe.

His young brother, Jack, was the funny boy of the third form, who would have been the school jester had it not been for Service. He spent his time chiefly in inventing new modes of mischief for the benefit of his schoolfellows, and being consequently in frequent hot water; but for some reason his conduct on the yacht differed very much from what it had been at school.

Such were the schoolboys whom the storm had cast ashore in the Pacific. During the cruise round New Zealand the schooner was to be commanded by Garnett’s father, who was one of the best yachtsmen in Australasia. Many times had the schooner appeared on the coast of Australia from the southernmost cape of Tasmania to Torres Straits, and even in the seas of the Moluccas and the Philippines, which are so dangerous to vessels of greater tonnage. But she was a well-built boat, handy, weatherly, and fit to keep the sea in all weathers.

The crew consisted of the mate, six sailors, a cook, and a boy, Moko, the young negro of twelve, whose family had been in the service of a well-known colonist for many years. And we ought to mention Fan, a dog of American extraction, which belonged to Gordon, and never left her master.

The day of departure had been fixed for the 15th of February. The yacht lay moored at the end of Commercial Pier. The crew was not on board when, on the evening of the 14th, the young passengers embarked. Captain Garnett was not expected till the last moment, and the mate and the boy received Gordon and his companions, the men having gone ashore to take a parting glass. When the yacht had been cleared of visitors, and the boys had all gone to bed, so as to be ready early in the morning for the start, it occurred to the mate that he would go up into the town and look for his men, leaving Moko in charge. And Moko was too tired to keep awake.

What happened immediately the mate left was a mystery, but accidentally or purposely, the moorings of the yacht got cast off without any one on board being the wiser.

It was a dark night. The land-breeze was strong, and the tide running out, and away went the schooner to sea.

When Moko awoke he found the yacht adrift!

His shouts brought up Gordon, Briant, Donagan, and a few of the others from below, but nothing could they do. They called for help in vain. None of the harbour lights were visible. The yacht was right out in the gulf three miles from land.

At the suggestion of Briant and Moko, the boys tried to get sail on the yacht so as to beat back into the harbour. But the sail was too heavy for them to set properly, and the result was that the yacht instead of keeping her head up, dropped dead away to leeward. Cape Colville was doubled, and the strait between Great Barrier Island and the mainland run through, and soon the schooner was off to the eastward, many miles from New Zealand.

It was a serious position. There could be no help from the land. If a vessel were to come in search, several hours must elapse before she could catch them, even supposing that she could find them in the darkness. And even when day came, how could she descry so small a craft on the high sea? If the wind did not change, all hope of returning to land must be given up. There remained only the chance of being spoken by some vessel on her way to a New Zealand port. And to meet this, Moko hastened to hoist a lantern at the foremast head. And then all that could be done was to wait for daylight.

Many of the smaller boys were still asleep, and it was thought best not to wake them.

Several attempts were made to bring the schooner up in the wind, but all were useless. Her head fell off immediately, and away she went drifting to the eastward.

Suddenly a light was sighted two or three miles off. It was a white masthead light showing a steamer under way. Soon the side lights, red and green, rose above the water, and the fact of their being seen together showed that the steamer was steering straight for the yacht.

The boys shouted in vain. The wash of the waves, the roar of the steam blowing off, and the moan of the rising wind united to drown their voices. But if they could not hear the cries, the look-outs might see the light at the schooner’s foremast? It was a last chance, and unfortunately in one of the yacht’s jerky pitches, the halliard broke and the lantern fell into the sea, and there was nothing to show the presence of the schooner, which the steamer was steering straight down upon at the rate of twelve knots an hour.

In a few seconds she had struck the yacht, and would have sunk her, had she not taken her on the slant close to the stern; as it was she carried away only a bit of the name board.

The shock had been so feeble that the steamer kept on, leaving the schooner to the mercy of the approaching storm. It is often the case, unfortunately, that captains do not trouble about stopping to help a vessel they have run into. But in this case some excuse could be made, for those on board the steamer felt nothing of the collision, and saw nothing of the yacht in the darkness.

Drifting before the wind, the boys might well think they were lost. When day came the wide horizon was deserted.