"No," answered Dick, and then the rowboat grated on the sand, and all leaped ashore.
With their medicines and bandages in their pockets, and pistols in hand, they commenced to crawl through the bushes. Before long they came to a point from which they could look toward the wreck. All was dark and deserted and the air was filled with the smell of burnt wood and water.
"I don't see anybody, do you?" whispered Dick.
"Nary a soul in sight," answered old Jerry.
With equal care they moved around to the other side of the wreck, over a mass of burnt brushwood.
"Hark!" said Tom.
They listened, and, from a distance, made out a faint groan.
"That is somebody, and in great pain," said Dick. "Come on," and he led the way.
Around a pile of rocks they found a sailor. He was propped up against a tree, and was suffering from some burns on his legs and feet.
"Bostwick!" said old Jerry.