The hero of this tale is an ignorant, drunken, brutish Englishman, convicted of a crime he did not commit and transported to Australia -- a place he nearly reaches before the ship is wrecked and he is washed on a lonely island, with only a case of books to keep him company.
o is dead. Perhaps they'll let you buy something with it."
He looked at the hand. "If she ain't stickin' out her duke to me, right through the bars. Blamed if she ain't! Looks like a lily! A bally white lily!" he repeated wonderingly. "One of them kind we wonst run acrost when the Cap. turned us adrift on an island, jest to waller in green grass!"
"Don't you want it?" said the child.
He extended a great, coarse hand hesitatingly, as if half-minded to and half-minded not to touch the white finger-tips.
"You ain't afraid?"
The golden head shook ever so slightly; again the big hand went toward the small one, then suddenly dropped.
"Right this way m'lord--m'lady!" The face of the convict abruptly changed; fury, hatred, a blind instinct to kill were unmistakably revealed in his countenance as he heard the bland voice of the police agent. From the child's hand the gold disk fell and rolled under the wooden slab that served as a couch in the cell.
"Jocelyn!" The expos