Capt. Frederick Walker — accompanied by his wife, three adolescent sons and a crew of 24 — left Hong Kong in the fall of 1887, bound for the Midway Atoll, where they intended to hunt sharks.

After a stormy crossing, their ship, the Wandering Minstrel, ultimately settled off small and barren Sand Island, where it was suddenly buffeted by typhoon-force winds. Its anchor snapped and the three-masted schooner crashed into a reef and sank.

Fortunately, all 29 people (and one dog) made it to shore, where most were marooned for 14 months, living a roller-coaster existence as described in claustrophobic detail in Matthew Pearl's "Save Our Souls" (the title corresponds to the acronym: SOS).

Their ordeal, Pearl writes, "would come to be seen as a true-life Robinson Crusoe with more than a touch of a real Swiss Family Robinson."

If they thought that at the time, it was only because a far more appropriate book, "Lord of the Flies," hadn't yet been published.

At first, the relatively self-sufficient sailors salvaged wood, tools and some food from the wreckage, enough to build primitive shelters and attempt repair of the damaged life boats that brought them to shore. They dug wells and readied themselves with surprising efficiency and ingenuity.

Save Our Souls

But, just a month into their stay, the ship's cook and four accomplices swiped extra provisions and sailed away on one of the lifeboats, searching for safety. (They never made it.)

Another surprise: Shortly after the Walker party landed, they discovered marooned sailor Hans Jorgensen. He immediately buoyed spirits by proving helpful in showing them the lay of the land.

But every silver lining had a cloud. Jorgensen was no angel. He'd been purposely left there by sailors on his previous ship because he murdered the captain. And he would prove a danger again.

Then, the ship's first mate showed his true, cruel colors. Before joining the Minstrel, he'd been active both in opium smuggling and blackbirding, the Pacific equivalent of the slave trade.

Eventually, Jorgenson and the mate absconded with another boat and more than their share of supplies and tools. They promised to alert authorities about the Minstrel's plight if they made it. (They didn't.)

Meanwhile, potential rescue ships came close to the island but were turned away by the weather. Storms continued to ravage the island — and even chased away nesting birds, which had been a source of food. Survivors grew increasing ill. To put a ribbon on it, even when the castaways were finally rescued by another shark hunting vessel, the captain insisted on payment before he would save them.

Pearl built his reputation with a series of clever historical novels, including "The Dante Club," that made murder-solving detectives out of unlikely heroes — real life poets and professors such as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Oliver Wendell Holmes.

More recently, he applied those talents to historical nonfiction, first "The Taking of Jemima Boone," about the kidnapping of Daniel Boone's daughter, and now "Save Our Souls." Both are written with the compelling narrative and literary flair of a work of fiction.

Curt Schleier is a critic in New Jersey.

Save Our Souls: The True Story of a Castaway Family, Treachery and Murder

By: Matthew Pearl.

Publisher: Harper, 272 pages, $30.