They had all heard of the voyage of the _Spray_ through the papers of Valparaiso, and were hungry for news concerning it.

They told me of a war between Chile and the Argentine, which I had not heard of when I was there.

I had just visited both countries, and I told them that according to the latest reports, while I was in Chile, their own island was sunk.

(This same report that Juan Fernandez had sunk was current in Australia when I arrived there three months later.) I had already prepared a pot of coffee and a plate of doughnuts, which, after some words of civility, the islanders stood up to and discussed with a will, after which they took the _Spray_ in tow of their boat and made toward the island with her at the rate of a good three knots.

The man they called king took the helm, and with whirling it up and down he so rattled the _Spray_ that I thought she would never carry herself straight again.