“Nothing within fifteen or twenty miles.”
“Then, if the crew and passengers took to the small boats, wouldn’t they be likely to steer for Cave Island?”
“I think so,—that is, if the storm let ’em do so. It might be the wind would force ’em the other way. But I think it would be a wise move to sail for Cave Island and take a look around. The one trouble is, so I learned at Barbados, the island hasn’t any sort of harbor. We’ll have to lay-to outside and go ashore in a small boat.”
“Perhaps it won’t be necessary to go ashore,” said Roger.
“Oh, it can be done easily enough.”
The bow of the Golden Eagle was turned eastward. They ran slowly, all hands keeping their eyes open for more signs of the wreck.
Presently they came in sight of the reef outside of Cave Island. It formed a large horseshoe, and beyond was the island itself, long, low, and irregular, the shore fringed with tropical trees and bushes and the center rocky and barren.
“This ain’t no easy place to land,” said Billy Dill to Dave, as the sails were lowered and the ship was brought about. “If them critters from the wreck got here in their small boats in the dark they must have had a fierce time o’ it!”
“I don’t see a sign of a boat anywhere,” said Dave, as he swept the reef and the shore with the glasses. “And not a sign of a human being either,” he added, with a sinking heart.
“That’s queer, too, lad, if they came here. Fust thing I’d think about, if I was wrecked, would be to put up a signal o’ distress.”