The Abdication of King Wilkins I
King Wilkins I came tearing through the crowd, roaring commands, and in a twinkling he had picked a crew and was urging them into the breakers. The brave fellows toiled like madmen. Thrice the giant seas beat them back and whirled their canoe end over end. But they followed the flaming beard of their leader as if it were a banner of war, and at length the canoe crossed the reef in clouds of spray.
Soon a driving rain veiled the schooner from our sight, and an hour passed before the canoe reappeared. Then, amid a storm of cheers from shore, it was flung far upon the sand. I rushed to pick up the inanimate form of a young white female, but the dripping Wilkins shoved me aside, and swinging her against his shoulder he ran toward the palace. He gasped as I trotted at his side:
"Miss Hulda Barnstable of Walpole, Mass.—missionary bound to the Peace Island group. Old gent that convoyed her was washed overboard yesterday and lost."
May 10.—I am not ungallant by nature,
