But they had not gone far, when a white man, with a red sash about his waist, made his appearance on deck, the natives immediately desisting.
Hailing us loudly, he said he was coming aboard; and after some confusion on the schooner's decks, a small canoe was launched over-hoard, and, in a minute or two, he was with us.

He turned out to be an old shipmate of Jermin's, one Viner, long supposed dead, but now resident on the island.
The meeting of these men, under the circumstances, is one of a thousand occurrences appearing exaggerated in fiction; but, nevertheless, frequently realized in actual lives of adventure.
Some fifteen years previous, they had sailed together as officers of the barque Jane, of London, a South Seaman.

Somewhere near the New Hebrides, they struck one night upon an unknown reef; and, in a few hours, the Jane went to pieces.

The boats, however, were saved; some provisions also, a quadrant, and a few other articles.

But several of the men were lost before they got clear of the wreck.
The three boats, commanded respectively by the captain, Jermin, and the third mate, then set sail for a small English settlement at the Bay of Islands in New Zealand.