“No,” replied the captain; and taking hold of the hatch he drew himself up to it and peered down; then handing his gun to Steve, he lowered himself down feet first and disappeared, while the rest stood watching the square opening and listening intently.
“Rather dark,” came up from the forecastle, and they heard the sharp scratching sound made by the striking of a match.
“No one here. Plenty of sand drifted right in.”
Another match was struck, and then, after the short period one of the little tapers would take to burn out, the captain’s hands appeared and he climbed out.
“Nothing whatever,” he said. “No trace of a soul, and everything has been cleared out; not so much as a blanket left.”
“That looks as if the crew must have stripped the vessel, and built themselves a place somewhere inland.”
“Or on the shore,” said the captain. “No; I fancy that this vessel was forsaken long ago. Her crew must have taken to the boats, and let us hope that they all escaped across to Hammerfest, or some other port.”
“Will you search any further?” asked Steve. “There is nothing to search for here, my boy,” replied the captain; “but we will have a tramp forward, and see if any traces have been left of hut or signal-post, though I feel certain that no one is here.”
The doctor looked doubtful, and Steve felt glad, for he thought the captain was taking matters too coolly.
“Well,” continued that gentleman, turning to the doctor, “supposing that it was your misfortune to be cast ashore on this desolate place, what would be the first thing you would try to do?”