They watched the ship sail away and away, hoping against hope that she might even yet return.
They watched until the stars shone out and darkness brooded over the deep, and then a strange thing happened: a great gleam of light was seen on the distant horizon, and above it clouds of rolling smoke through which tongues and jets of flame were flashing.
The brig was on fire and burning fiercely!
Her very masts and rigging were seen for a time, darkling through the blaze.
No one thought of leaving the hill now; they would see the last of that mysterious ship.
Yes, and the last came within an hour.
An immense fountain of fire rose high into the air, lighting the sea up in one broad crimson bar from horizon to shore—then darkness.
Nothing more.
Nor were any signs of that unfortunate brig seen next day. No boat floated towards the island, nor was a single spar ever picked up along the beach.
It would be impossible to describe the feelings of the Crusoes as they went slowly homeward through the jungle, guided by Fitz and Bob.