J. Archibald McKackney
crew that drifted ashore. And me and the bit of plank I was clinging to like a barnacle was tossed on the beach of an island that wasn't down on any charts at all. I discovered it, and named it Lemuel Wilkins, his island, by gum. And there was people on this Lemuel Wilkins Island, big brown savages with no more manners or morals than this big red-whiskered son of mine. And the men on that island, they had whiskers, too, tropical, luxuriant whiskers they was, oh, such wonderful growths. When they come down to the beach to pick me up, they was truly a rare and noble sight.
"It was the fact of my wearin' a fine upstanding beard that saved my life. They gave me a hut and fed me up, and I was treated with respect. It wasn't a month before I was beginnin' to talk their lingo and pick up their ways. One of the first things I noticed that was awful curious was that every morning all the men sat in the sun and dressed their whiskers most particular with combs made out of sharks teeth. Then they washed 'em and
