which I intend incorporating in a sequel for the _Cimmerian Magazine_."

"Well, in the name of Atlas, what island is it, then?" roared Holmes,
angrily. "What is the matter with all you learned lubbers that I have
brought along on this trip? Do you suppose I've brought you to whistle up
favorable winds? Not by the beard of the Prophet! I brought you to give me
information, and now when I ask for the name of a simple little island
like that in plain sight there's not one of you able so much as to guess
at it reasonably. The next man I ask for information goes into irons with
Judge Blackstone if he doesn't answer me instantly with the information I
want. Munchausen, what island is that?"

"Ahem! that?" replied Munchausen, trembling, as he reflected upon the
Captain's threat. "What? Nobody knows what island that is? Why, you
surprise me--"

"See here, Baron," retorted Holmes, menacingly, "I ask you a plain
question, and I want a plain answer, with no evasions to gain time. Now
it's irons or an answer. What island is that?"

"It's an island that doesn't appear on any chart, Captain," Munchausen
responded instantly, pulling himself together for a mighty effort, "and it
has never been given a name; but as you insist upon having one, we'll call
it Holmes Island, in your honor. It is not stationary. It is a floating
island of lava formation, and is a menace to every craft that goes to sea.
I spent a year of my life upon it once, and it is more barren than the
desert of Sahara, because you cannot raise even sand upon it, and it is
devoid of water of any sort, salt or fresh."

"What did you live on during that year?" asked Holmes, eying him narrowly.