single word he drew the cork, and took from it a damp paper, on which were written these words:
"Castaway . . . Tabor Island: 153° W. long., 37° 11' S. lat."
CHAPTER XIII
THE VOYAGE TO TABOR ISLAND
"A castaway!" exclaimed Pencroft; "left on this Tabor Island not two hundred miles from us! Ah, Captain Harding, you won't now oppose my going."
"No, Pencroft," replied Cyrus Harding; "and you shall set out as soon as possible."
"To-morrow?"
"To-morrow!"
The engineer still held in his hand the paper which he had taken from the bottle. He contemplated it for some instants, then resumed, "From this document, my friends, from the way in which it is worded, we may conclude this: first, that the castaway on Tabor Island is a man possessing a considerable knowledge of navigation, since he gives the latitude and longitude of the island exactly as we ourselves found it, and to a second of approximation; secondly, that he is either English or American, as the document is written in the English language."
"That is perfectly logical," answered Spilett; "and the presence of this castaway explains the arrival of the case on the shores of our island. There must have been a wreck, since there is a castaway. As to the latter, whoever he may be, it is lucky for him that Pencroft thought of building this boat and of trying her this very day, for a day later and this bottle might have been broken on the rocks."
"Indeed," said Herbert, "it is a fortunate chance that the Bonadventure passed exactly where the bottle was."
"Does not this appear strange to you?" asked Harding.
"It appears fortunate, that's all," answered the sailor.
"Do you see anything extraordinary in it, captain. The bottle must go somewhere, and why not here?"
"Perhaps you are right, Pencroft," replied the engineer; "and yet———"
"But," observed Herbert, "there's nothing to prove that this bottle has been floating long in the sea."
