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Alexander Romanovich Belyaev

Isle of Lost Ships

Part one

I. On deck

Big transatlantic steamship The Benjamin Franklin was in the harbor of Genoa, ready to sail. There was the usual bustle on the shore, the cries of a multilingual, motley crowd were heard, and on the ship there was already a moment of that tense, nervous silence that involuntarily seizes people before a long journey. Only on the deck of the third class, passengers fussily "shared the crampedness", seating themselves and packing their belongings. The first-class audience, from the height of their deck, silently watched this human anthill.

Shaking the air, the steamer roared in last time. The sailors hastily began to raise the ladder.

At that moment, two people quickly climbed the ladder. The one following behind made a sign to the sailors with his hand, and they lowered the ladder.

Late passengers entered the deck. A well-dressed, slender and broad-shouldered young man, with his hands in the pockets of his wide coat, quickly walked towards the cabins. His clean-shaven face was perfectly calm. However, an observant person might have noticed by the stranger's knitted eyebrows and a slight ironic smile that this calmness is feigned. Behind him, not lagging behind a single step, was a plump middle-aged man. His bowler hat was shifted to the back of his head. His sweaty, rumpled face expressed at the same time fatigue, pleasure and intense attention, like a cat that drags a mouse in its teeth. He never took his eyes off his companion for a second.

On the deck of the ship, not far from the ladder, stood a young girl in a white dress. For a moment, her eyes met those of a late passenger in front of her.

As this strange couple passed, the girl in the white dress, Miss Kingman, heard the sailor who was clearing the ladder say to his comrade, nodding in the direction of the retired passengers:

- Did you see it? An old acquaintance of Jim Simpkins, a New York detective, caught some thug.

- Simpkins? replied another sailor. “This one doesn’t hunt small game.

Yes, look how you are dressed. Some specialist in bank vaults, if not worse.

Miss Kingman became terrified. A criminal, perhaps a murderer, will travel with her all the way to New York on the same boat. Until now, she had seen only in the newspapers the portraits of these mysterious and terrible people.

Miss Kingman hurried up to the upper deck. Here, among the people of her circle, in this place, inaccessible to ordinary mortals, she felt relatively safe. Leaning back in a comfortable wicker chair, Miss Kingman plunged into inactive contemplation - the best gift of sea travel for nerves tired of the bustle of the city. The awning covered her head from the hot rays of the sun. The leaves of the palm trees, which stood in wide tubs between the chairs, swayed softly above her. From somewhere to the side came the aromatic smell of expensive tobacco.

- Criminal. Who would have thought? whispered Miss Kingman, still remembering the meeting at the gangplank. And, to finally get rid of the unpleasant impression, she took out a small elegant cigarette case made of ivory, Japanese work, with flowers carved on the lid, and lit an Egyptian cigarette. A blue plume of smoke drifted up to the palm fronds.

The steamer departed, carefully getting out of the harbor. It seemed as if the ship was standing still, and the surrounding scenery was moving with the help of a rotating stage. Here all Genoa turned to the side of the steamer, as if wishing to appear to be departing for the last time. White houses ran down from the mountains and crowded along the coastal strip, like a herd of sheep at a watering hole. And above them rose yellow-brown peaks, flecked with green orchards and pines. But then someone turned the scenery. The corner of the bay opened up - a blue mirror surface with crystal clear water. The white yachts seemed to be immersed in a piece of blue sky that had fallen to the ground - all the lines of the ship were so clearly visible through clear water. Endless schools of fish darted between the yellowish stones and short algae on the white sandy bottom. Gradually, the water became more and more blue, until it hid the bottom ...

“How did you like your cabin, miss?”

Miss Kingman looked back. In front of her stood the captain, who included in the scope of his duties to provide kind attention to the most "dear" passengers.

Thank you, mister...

“Mr Brown, great. Are we going to Marseille?

New York is the first stop. However, we may be delayed for a few hours in Gibraltar. Would you like to visit Marseille?

“Oh no,” said Miss Kingman hastily and even with fear. “I'm sick of Europe to death. - And after a pause, she asked: - Tell me, captain, do we have a criminal on the ship?

- What criminal?

Some arrested...

“Maybe even a few of them. The usual thing. After all, this public has a habit of fleeing from European justice to America, and from American justice to Europe. But the detectives track them down and deliver these lost sheep to their homeland. There is nothing dangerous in their presence on the ship - you can be completely calm. They are brought in without shackles, only to ignore the public. But in the cabin they are immediately hand-shackled and chained to the bunks.

"But it's terrible!" Miss Kingman said.

The captain shrugged.

Neither the captain, nor even Miss Kingman herself, understood the vague feeling that this exclamation aroused. It is terrible that people, like wild animals, are chained. So thought the captain, though he thought it a sensible precaution.

It is terrible that this young man, so little like a criminal and no different from the people of her circle, will sit chained all the way in a stuffy cabin. That was the vague subconscious thought that excited Miss Kingman.

And, taking a deep drag on her cigarette, she lapsed into silence.

The captain quietly moved away from Miss Kingman. A fresh sea breeze played with the end of a white silk scarf and her chestnut curls.

Even here, a few miles from the harbour, the scent of magnolias bloomed like a last greeting from the Genoese shore. The giant steamer tirelessly cut through the blue surface, leaving behind a distant wavy trail. And the waves-stitches hurried to mend the scar formed on the silky sea surface.

II. stormy night

- Check to the king. Checkmate.

“Oh, to be swallowed by a shark!” You play masterfully, Mr. Gatling, - said the famous New York detective Jim Simpkins and scratched his right ear in annoyance. “Yes, you play very well,” he continued. “But I still play better than you. You beat me at chess, but what a magnificent checkmate I gave you, Gatling, there, in Genoa, when you, like a chess king, sat out in the farthest cell of a ruined house! Did you want to hide from me? In vain! Jim Simpkins will find at the bottom of the sea. Here's a checkmate for you, - and, smugly leaning back, he lit a cigar.

Reginald Gatling shrugged.

– You had too many pawns. You got the entire Genoese police back on their feet and carried on a proper siege. No chess player will win a game with one king piece against all the opponent's pieces. And besides, Mr. Jim Simpkins, our game is not yet… finished.

- Do you think? Has this chain convinced you yet? - and the detective touched the light but strong chain with which Gatling was chained by the left hand to the metal rod of the bunk.

- You are naive, like many brilliant people. Are chains logical proof? However, we will not go into philosophy.

And let's restart the game. I want a rematch,” Simpkins finished.

“We are unlikely to succeed. The pitching intensifies and may mix up the pieces before we're done with the game.

- How would you like to understand this, also in a figurative sense? Simpkins asked as he arranged the pieces.

- As you wish.

- Yes, it shakes thoroughly, - and he made a move.

The cabin was stuffy and hot. She was placed below the waterline, not far from engine room, which, like a powerful heart, shook the walls of the neighboring cabins and filled them with rhythmic noise. The players fell into silence, trying to keep the balance of the chessboard.

The pitch intensified. The storm played out in earnest. The ship lay down on its left side, slowly rose. Again... More... Like a drunk...

Chess flew. Simpkins fell to the floor. Gatling held the chain, but she painfully pulled his hand at the wrist, where the "bracelet" was.

Simpkins swore and sat down on the floor.

- It's more stable here. You know, Gatling, I don't feel well... that... seasickness. Never before had I endured such a diabolical pitching. I will lie down. But… won't you run away if I get sick?

“Absolutely,” Gatling replied, laying down on the bunk. “I’ll break the chain and run away… I’ll throw myself into the waves.” I prefer the company of sharks...

“You are joking, Gatling. Simpkins crawled to the bunk and, groaning, lay down.

Before he could stretch himself out, he was thrown out of bed again by a terrible jolt that shook the entire ship. Somewhere it crackled, rang, rustled, buzzed. From above came screams and the clatter of feet, and, drowning out all this discordant noise, a siren suddenly blared alarmingly, giving a signal: “Upstairs everyone!”

Overcoming fatigue and weakness, clinging to the walls, Simpkins went to the door. He was mortally frightened, but tried to hide it from his companion.

- Gatling! Something happened there. I'm going to see. I'm sorry, but I have to lock you up! Simpkins shouted.

Gatling looked contemptuously at the detective and said nothing.

The rolling continued, but even with this rolling it could be seen that the ship was slowly sinking with its bow.

A few minutes later Simpkins appeared at the door. Streams of water dripped from his raincoat. The detective's face was contorted with horror, which he no longer tried to hide.

“A catastrophe… We are sinking… The steamer has been hit by a hole… Although no one really knows anything… Boats are being prepared… an order has been given to put on life belts… But no one is allowed to board the boats yet. They say the ship has some kind of bulkheads, maybe it won’t sink yet if something like that is done there, the devil knows what ... And the passengers are fighting with the sailors who drive them away from the boats ... But I, I- then what are you supposed to do? he shouted, lashing out at Gatling as if he was responsible for all his misadventures. - What do you want me to do? Save yourself or follow you? We may end up in different boats, and you will probably run away.

“Doesn’t that calm you down?” Gatling asked with a sneer, showing the chain he was chained to.

“I can’t stay with you, damn it.

“In a word, you want to save yourself, me, and the ten thousand dollars that you were promised for my capture?” I really sympathize with your predicament, but I can't help it.

- You can, you can ... Listen, my dear, - and Simpkins' voice became ingratiating, Simpkins cringed all over, like a beggar begging for alms, - give me your word ... just give me your word that you will not run away from me on the shore, and I will immediately unlock and take off a chain from your hand ... just give me your word. I believe you.

- Thank you for your trust. But I won't say anything. However, no: I'll run away as soon as possible. I can give you this word.

- Oh! .. Have you seen such? .. And if I leave you here, stubborn? And without waiting for an answer, Simpkins rushed to the door. Clinging, climbing and falling, he climbed the steep stairs to the deck, which, despite the night, was brightly lit by arc lamps. He was immediately whipped by a curtain of rain, which was fluttered by a stormy wind. The stern of the ship was above the water, the bow was flooded with waves. Simpkins looked around the deck and saw that discipline, which had still existed a few minutes ago, was thrown down like a light barrier by the frenzied pressure of that primitive, animal feeling, which is called the instinct of self-preservation. Exquisitely dressed men, who only yesterday with gallant courtesy rendered minor services to the ladies, now trampled on the bodies of these ladies, punching the way to the boats with their fists. The strongest won. The sound of the siren merged with the inhuman roar of the maddened herd of bipedal beasts. Crushed bodies flashed by, torn corpses, shreds of clothes.

Simpkins lost his head, a hot wave of blood flooded his brain. There was a moment when he himself was ready to rush into the dump. But the thought of ten thousand dollars that flashed even at that moment restrained him. He rolled head over heels down the stairs, flew into the cabin, fell, rolled to the door, crawled to the berths and silently, with trembling hands, began to open the chain.

- Up! The detective let Gatling go ahead and followed him.

When they got on deck, Simpkins screamed in impotent fury: the deck was empty. On the huge waves, illuminated by the lights of the portholes, the last boats, crowded with people, flashed by. There was nothing to think of getting to them by swimming.

The sides of the boats were plastered with the hands of drowning people. Blows of knives, fists and oars, revolver bullets rained from the boats on the heads of the unfortunate, and the waves swallowed them up.

- All because of you! Simpkins shouted, shaking his fist in front of Gatling's nose.

But Gatling, paying no attention to the detective, went up to the side and carefully looked down. At the very ship, the waves rocked the body of a woman. With the last effort, she stretched out her hands and, when the waves nailed her to the steamer, she tried in vain to cling to the iron plating.

The Gatling threw off his cloak and jumped overboard.

- Do you want to run? You will be responsible for this. And, drawing a revolver, the detective pointed it at Gatling's head. - I will shoot at your first attempt to sail away from the steamer.

- Don't talk nonsense and throw the end of the rope as soon as possible, you idiot! Gatling shouted back, grabbing the hand of a drowning woman who was already losing consciousness.

- He still manages! shouted the detective, clumsily dangling the end of the rope. - Insulting an official in the line of duty!

Miss Viviana Kingman woke up in the cabin. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

Simpkins bowed gallantly:

Let me introduce myself: Agent Jim Simpkins. And this is Mr. Reginald Gatling, under my care, so to speak...

Kingman did not know how to behave in the company of an agent and a criminal. Kingman, daughter of a billionaire, had to share society with these people. In addition to one of them she owes her salvation, she must thank him. But lend a hand to a criminal? No no! Luckily, she's still too weak to move her arm... well, of course she can't. She moved her hand without raising it, and said in a weak voice:

Thank you, you saved my life.

“It is the duty of each of us,” Gatling answered without any pretense. “Now you need to rest. You can be calm: the ship keeps well on the water and will not sink. - Pulling on the sleeve of Simpkins, he said: -Let's go.

- On what basis did you begin to dispose of me? grumbled the detective, following, however, the Gatling. “Do not forget that you are a prisoner and I can legally put hand shackles on you at any moment and deprive you of your freedom.

Gatling stepped close to Simpkins and said calmly but impressively:

“Listen, Simpkins, if you don’t stop talking nonsense, I’ll take you by the scruff of the neck, like this, and throw you overboard like a blind kitten, along with your automatic pistol, which is just as prickly in my eyes as you are. Do you understand? Put your weapons in your pocket now and follow me. We need to cook breakfast for Miss and find a good bottle of wine.

- The devil knows what it is! Do you want to make me a maid and a cook? Shine her shoes and give her pins?

“I want you to talk less and do more. Well, turn around!

III. In one desert

“Tell me, Mr. Gatling, why didn’t the ship sink?” asked Miss Kingman, sitting with Gatling on the deck, all lit up by the morning sun. All around, as far as the eye could see, the water surface of the ocean spread like an emerald desert.

“Modern ocean-going steamships,” Gatling answered, “are equipped with internal bulkheads, or walls. With holes, water fills only part of the steamer, without penetrating further. And if the destruction is not too great, the ship can stay on the surface even with large holes.

“But why then did the passengers leave the ship?”

“No one could say if the ship would hold up to be able to float on the surface. Look: the keel has gone into the water. The stern has risen so that the blades of the propellers are visible. The deck is tilted at an angle of nearly thirty degrees to the surface of the ocean. It is not very convenient to walk on this slope, but it is still better than floundering in the water. We got off cheap. The ship has huge supplies of provisions and water. And if we're not too far off the ocean lanes, we may soon meet some ship to pick us up.

However, day after day passed, and the blue desert remained as dead as ever. Simpkins looked through his eyes, peering into the sea distance.

The same days passed.

Miss Kingman very soon entered the role of hostess. She busied herself in the kitchen, did the laundry, maintained order in the dining room and in the “saloon,” a small cozy cabin where they liked to spend their evenings before going to bed.

The difficult question of how to keep and position herself in a new, alien society for her, was somehow resolved by itself. She treated Simpkins with good-natured irony; with Gatling, simple, friendly relations. Moreover, Gatling interested her in the mystery of her fate and nature. Out of a sense of tact, she not only never asked Gatling about his past, but she did not allow Simpkins to talk about it, although Simpkins more than once tried to talk about his terrible "crime" in Gatling's absence.

They willingly talked to each other in the evenings, at sunset, having finished their little household. Simpkins hung around on his watchtower, looking for the steamer's smoke as a herald of salvation, professional triumph, and promised reward.

From these conversations, Miss Kingman could make sure that her interlocutor was educated, tactful and well-mannered. Conversations with the witty Miss Kingman seemed to give Gatling great pleasure as well. She recalled her trip to Europe and made him laugh with the unexpected characteristics of what she saw.

- Switzerland? This is a mountain pasture for tourists. I have traveled all over the world myself, but I hate those ruminant bipeds with a Baedeker for a tail. They chewed through the eyes of all the beauties of nature.

Vesuvius? Some short guy puffing on a crappy cigar and putting on airs. Have you seen the Colorado mountain range? Has Peak, Lons Peak, Aranjo Peak - these are mountains. I'm not talking about such giants as Mount Everest, which has a height of 8800 meters. Vesuvius is a puppy compared to them.

Venice? Only frogs can live there. The gondolier took me along the main canals, wanting to show the goods in person, all these palaces, statues and other beauties that turned green from dampness, and big-eyed Englishwomen. But I ordered him to take me to one of the small canals - I don’t know if I said it right, but the gondolier understood me and, after repeated orders, reluctantly directed the gondola into the narrow canal. I wanted to see how the Venetians themselves live. After all, this is horror. The channels are so narrow that you can give a hand to a neighbor opposite. The water in the canals smells of mold, orange peels float on the surface and all sorts of rubbish that is thrown out of the windows. The sun never looks into these stone gorges. And children, poor children! They have nowhere to frolic. Pale, rickety, they sit on the windowsills, at the risk of falling into a dirty canal, and look at the passing gondola with childish longing. I'm not even sure if they can walk.

- But what did you like in Italy? ..

Here their conversation was interrupted in the most unexpected way:

- Hands up!

They looked back and saw Simpkins in front of them with a revolver pointed at Gatling's chest.

The detective had been listening to their conversation for a long time, waiting to see if Gatling would blurt out his crime. Convinced of the innocence of the conversation, Simpkins decided to take on a new role - "prevention and suppressor of crimes."

“Miss Kingman,” he began pompously, “it is my call of duty and the duty of an honest man to warn you of danger. I can't have these private conversations anymore. I must warn you, Miss Kingman, that Gatling is a dangerous criminal. And dangerous especially for you women. He killed the young lady, first entangling her in the net of his eloquence. Killed and fled, but was caught by me, Jim Simpkins,” he finished, and looked at the effect with pride.

It cannot be said that the effect was the one he expected.

Miss Kingman was indeed embarrassed and agitated and offended, but more by his sudden and rude intrusion than by his speech.

And Reginald Gatling did not look at all like a criminal killed by exposure. With his usual calmness he approached Simpkins. Ignoring the pointing muzzle, after a short struggle, he pulled out and threw aside the revolver, saying quietly:

“The ten thousand dollars promised to you for the pleasure of some people to see me put in the electric chair is obviously not enough for you. Only the presence of Miss keeps me from dealing with you on merit!

The quarrel was stopped by Miss Kingman.

“Give me your word,” she said, coming up to them and turning more to Simpkins, “that such scenes will not be repeated. Don't worry about me, Mr. Simpkins, I don't need any guardianship. Leave your accounts until such time as we come down to earth. There are three of us here - only three among the boundless ocean. Who knows what lies ahead for us? Perhaps each of us will be needed for the other in a moment of danger.

It's getting damp, the sun has set. It's time to disperse. Goodnight!

And they went to their quarters.

The large transatlantic steamer "Benjamin Franklin" stood in the harbor of Genoa, ready to sail. There was the usual bustle on the shore, the cries of a multilingual, motley crowd were heard, and on the ship there was already a moment of that tense, nervous silence that involuntarily seizes people before a long journey. Only on the deck of the third class, passengers fussily "shared the crampedness", seating themselves and packing their belongings. The first-class audience, from the height of their deck, silently watched this human anthill.

Shaking the air, the steamer roared for the last time. The sailors hastily began to raise the ladder.

At that moment, two people quickly climbed the ladder. The one following behind made a sign to the sailors with his hand, and they lowered the ladder.

On the deck of the ship, not far from the ladder, stood a young girl in a white dress. For a moment, her eyes met those of a late passenger in front of her.

As this strange couple passed, the girl in the white dress, Miss Kingman, heard the sailor who was clearing the ladder say to his comrade, nodding in the direction of the retired passengers:

Did you see? An old acquaintance of Jim Simpkins, a New York detective, caught some thug.

Simpkins? replied another sailor. - This one doesn't hunt small game.

Yes, look how you're dressed. Some specialist in bank vaults, if not worse.

Miss Kingman became terrified. On the same boat with her, a criminal, perhaps a murderer, will travel all the way to New York. Until now, she had seen only in the newspapers the portraits of these mysterious and terrible people.

Criminal. Who would have thought? whispered Miss Kingman, still remembering the meeting at the gangplank. And, to finally get rid of the unpleasant impression, she took out a small elegant cigarette case made of ivory, Japanese work, with flowers carved on the lid, and lit an Egyptian cigarette. A blue plume of smoke drifted up to the palm fronds.

The steamer departed, carefully getting out of the harbor. It seemed as if the ship was standing still, and the surrounding scenery was moving with the help of a rotating stage. Here all Genoa turned to the side of the steamer, as if wishing to appear to be departing for the last time. White houses ran down from the mountains and crowded along the coastal strip, like a herd of sheep at a watering hole. And above them rose yellow-brown peaks, flecked with green orchards and pines. But then someone turned the scenery. The corner of the bay opened up - a blue mirror surface with crystal clear water. The white yachts seemed to be immersed in a piece of blue sky that had fallen to the ground - all the lines of the ship were so clearly visible through the transparent water. Endless schools of fish darted between the yellowish stones and short algae on the white sandy bottom. Gradually, the water became more and more blue, until it hid the bottom ...

How did you like your cabin, miss?

Miss Kingman looked back. In front of her stood the captain, who included in the scope of his duties to provide kind attention to the most "dear" passengers.

Thank you mister...

Mr Brown, great. Are we going to Marseille?

New York is the first stop. However, we may be delayed for a few hours in Gibraltar. Would you like to visit Marseille?

Oh, no, said Miss Kingman hastily and even with fright. - I'm sick of Europe to death. - And, after a pause, she asked: - Tell me, captain, do we have a criminal on the ship?

What criminal?

Someone arrested...

It is possible that there are even several of them. The usual thing. After all, this public has a habit of running away from European justice to America, and from American justice to Europe. But the detectives track them down and deliver these lost sheep to their homeland. There is nothing dangerous in their presence on the ship - you can be completely calm. They are brought in without shackles, only to ignore the public. But in the cabin they are immediately hand-shackled and chained to the bunks.

But it's terrible! said Miss Kingman.

The captain shrugged.

And, taking a deep drag on her cigarette, she lapsed into silence.

The captain quietly moved away from Miss Kingman. A fresh sea breeze played with the end of a white silk scarf and her chestnut curls.

stormy night

Check to the king. Checkmate.

Oh, to be swallowed by a shark! You play masterfully, Mr. Gatling, - said the famous New York detective Jim Simpkins and scratched his right ear in annoyance. “Yes, you play very well,” he continued. - But I still play better than you. You beat me at chess, but what a magnificent checkmate I gave you, Gatling, there, in Genoa, when you, like a chess king, sat out in the farthest cell of a ruined house! You wanted to hide from me! In vain! Jim Simpkins will find at the bottom of the sea. Here's a checkmate for you, - and, smugly leaning back, he lit a cigar.

Reginald Gatling shrugged.

You had too many pawns. You got the entire Genoese police back on their feet and carried on a proper siege. No chess player will win a game with one king piece against all the opponent's pieces. And besides, Mr. Jim Simpkins, our game is not yet… finished.

Do you think? Has this chain convinced you yet? - and the detective touched the light but strong chain with which Gatling was chained by the left hand to the metal rod of the bunk.

You are naive, like many brilliant people. Are chains logical proof? However, we will not go into philosophy.

And let's restart the game. I want a rematch,” Simpkins finished.

We hardly succeed. The pitching intensifies and may mix up the pieces before we're done with the game.

How would you like to understand this, also in a figurative sense? Simpkins asked, setting up the pieces.

As you wish.

Very Briefly Shipwrecked humans accidentally end up on a populated island made up of wrecked ships, where extraordinary adventures await them.

Big transatlantic liner The Benjamin Franklin leaves Genoa for New York. Detective Jim Simpkins is on board, escorting Reginald Gatling, suspected of murder, to America. The ship is wrecked on the open ocean. Simpkins and Gatling do not have time to evacuate and remain on it along with the billionaire's daughter, Miss Viviana Kingman, who they saved. The ocean current nails the damaged liner to unknown island in the Sargasso Sea, formed from the remains of ships of all kinds brought here over the centuries.

The island is inhabited by several dozen people who came here after shipwrecks. The island is run by Fergus Slayton - a very dark person. At first, Slayton politely accepts the newcomers, but soon insistently invites Viviana to become his wife, which causes her resistance. To avoid scandal, Fergus announces that an equal "groom choice" will be arranged for Viviana. Fearing that Viviana will choose Gatling, Slayton orders his subordinates to put Simpkins and Gatling under lock and key. The ceremony begins. All the men of the island pass in front of Viviana, she rejects them. Slayton announces that Viviana will be his wife, and let those who disagree try to measure their strength with him. Meanwhile, Gatling sympathetic islander Turnip helps him and Simpkins get out of the cell. Gatling runs to the ceremony site and defeats Slayton in a duel.

To avoid Slaton's vengeance, Gatling, with a few inhabitants, decides to repair the German submarine and escape the island. On the night when everything is ready, they are noticed by Slayton's subordinates, and the conspirators decide to flee immediately. They are being chased. Gatling is wounded, but Slayton is also hit by a bullet. Everyone manages to get into the submarine and sail away. Soon they are picked up by a steamer.

On the steamboat, Simpkins learns from a newspaper that the crime that Gatling was accused of has been solved and the real culprit has been punished. After arriving in the United States, Reginald and Viviana become husband and wife. They are interested in the Sargasso Sea, and they intend to explore it and visit the Island of the Lost Ships along the way. Simpkins joins them to find documents on the island "explaining the mystery of Slayton's fate". After a difficult voyage on the ship "Calling", travelers sail to the island.

When Gatling fled with the company, Slayton was wounded, and his rival Flores became governor. The dying Slayton is forgotten. Flores orders bridges to be laid to a small "New Island" from the remains of ships in order to solve the problem with housing and food. The islanders meet Slayton, who survived, as well as a feral stranger on the "New Island". Slayton is placed under arrest. At night, Flores wants to kill him, but Slayton manages to free himself from the cell, drive Flores there and seize power again.

At this time, the "Caller" approaches the island. The assistant to the governor of Bokko Island is on the ship and tells travelers about the current situation. They threaten to bombard the island with guns if they are not allowed to land. Bokko promises to help and successfully persuades the islanders to overthrow Slayton. Slayton runs away. Flores is released.

Simpkins finds documents, according to which he finds out that the feral inhabitant of the New Island is Slayton's younger brother, the talented pianist Edward Gortvan (Slayton's name was actually Abraham Gortvan). In order to take possession of Edward's huge fortune, Abraham placed him in a psychiatric clinic, bribing some of the officials of Montreal, where he then lived. Fearing that with the arrival of new people in the city administration, his scam would be revealed, Abraham decided to take Edward to Canary Islands. On the way, they were overtaken by a strong storm, the ship sank, and they got to New Island on a boat. On the night after his arrival, Abraham moved to Big Island leaving Edward to fend for himself. Edward has become very wild, but in the company of people, glimpses of reason gradually begin to appear in him.

While the expedition is exploring the island and its underwater world, Simpkins finds out that Slayton is hiding on a sailboat with Hao-Zhen, a Chinese addicted to smoking opium. During the siege of a sailboat, a Chinese blows up one of the ships. The oil from his tanks catches fire, and a fire begins to spread across the Island. The inhabitants of the island and members of the expedition sail away on the "Caller".

The large transatlantic liner Benjamin Franklin sailed from Genoa to New York City. Detective Jim Simpkins is on board the liner, accompanying Reginald Gatlin, who is suspected of murder, to America. The ship is wrecked in the ocean. Sipkins and Gatling remain on the ship before they can evacuate, along with the billionaire's daughter, Miss Viviana Kingman. The current of the destroyed liner nails an unfamiliar island, which is located in the Sargasso Sea. This island was formed from the remaining parts of the ships, which were nailed by waves for many years.

The inhabitants of the island make up a dozen people who were also brought here by waves after a shipwreck. The main one on this island is Fergus Slayton. The personality of this hero is not as simple as it seems initially. Slayton immediately welcomes newcomers to the island, but soon insists on marrying Viviana. The heroine, in turn, resists such pressure. Seeing all this, the persistent fiancé announces a kind of "groom selection" competition for Viviana. Fearing that the bride will choose one of those with whom she ended up on the island, Fergus orders them to be kept under lock and key. The beginning of the ceremony, all the men living on the island appear before the heroine, but she did not choose anyone. After that, Fergus announced that the girl would be his wife. Only the one who defeats the "groom" in a duel could refute this. Meanwhile, the detective and Gatling are helped out from prison by a resident of the island named Turnip. Gatling was then able to defeat Fergus in a duel.

To avoid revenge, our heroes and several other inhabitants of the island decide to repair the eyeliner and escape. On the night of the escape, they are chased. Despite all the difficulties, the heroes manage to sail away, and then they are picked up by a steamer.

Upon arrival in the United States, Reginald and Viviana become spouses and are going to explore the Sargasso Sea and stop by the Island of the Lost Ships along the way.

This story is about people and their inner secrets. He teaches not to judge a person by the first impression, to fight for his life and love.

Picture or drawing Island of lost ships

I. ON DECK