"deep, _deep_ draughts." Anyway, upon giving the fisherman orders to
sail him back to Guernsey, and attempting to follow him with his serving
man, they somehow found themselves at the bottom of the gulch which led
down to the shore (upon which the boat was careened), so much mixed as
to arms and legs, that an observer would have wondered what curious
animal he was gazing upon. Two of them scrambled to their feet, and as
well as they could, shook themselves together; but the third, M. Oudin,
had unfortunately broken his right thigh-bone completely in two. Then
the maudlin men, despite his groans, placed him awkwardly in the boat,
and hoisted sail for Guernsey.

As luck would have it, my father and I were standing upon the deck of
the now nearly finished "Kittywich," when the boat came in, and M. Oudin
having communicated to my father the nature of his hurt, my dad
immediately gave orders for him to be taken to Gardner's Hotel, where we
were staying, and hurrying for a doctor soon joined him there. The leg
was set, and I spent the greater part of each day by the side of M.
Oudin's bed, chatting and reading to him, and attending to his wants.
During our conversation I happened to mention what a great treat I
should consider it to be allowed to live on his island for a few months.
Presently we went more fully into the "whys and wherefores" of the case,
so that I quite began to imagine it might all come to pass as I wished,
but the arrival of my father in the midst of our very pleasant
conversation quite put a damper on the scheme.

"Bah! he would hear nothing of it; it was a mad fool's idea. No, no,
think no more of such rubbish, my boy. Crusoe is all very well to
_read_, but it's a poor look out to have to _live_ Crusoe."

M. Oudin, seeing how my mind was bent upon the scheme, gave my father a