All were honorable, God-fearing young men, dutiful and affectionate to their mother and myself, and warmly attached to each other.
Although so many years had elapsed in total seclusion, it continued to be my strong impression that we should one day be restored to the society of our fellow-men.
But time, which was bringing our sons to manhood, was also carrying their parents onward to old age; and anxious, gloomy thoughts relating to their future, should they be left indeed alone, sometimes oppressed my heart.
On such occasions, I would not communicate the sense of depression to my family, but, turning in prayer to the Almighty Father, laid my trouble before Him, with never-failing renewal of strength and hope.
My elder sons often made expeditions of which we knew nothing until their return after many hours; when any uneasiness I might have felt was dissipated by their joyous appearance, and reproof always died away on my lips.
Fritz had been absent one whole day from Rockburg, and not until evening did we remark that his cajack was gone, and that he must be out at sea.
Anxious to see him return before nightfall, I went off to Shark Island with Ernest and Jack, in order to look out for him from the watch tower there, at the same time hoisting our signal flag, and loading the gun.
Long we gazed across the expanse of ocean glittering in the level beams of the setting sun, and finally discerned a small black speck in the distance which, by the telescope, was proved to be the returning wanderer.
I remarked that his skiff sailed at a slower rate than usual toward the shore. The cannon was fired to let him know that his approach was observed, and then we joyfully hurried back to receive him at the harbor.
It was easy to see, as he drew near, what had delayed his progress. The cajack towed a large sack, besides being heavily laden.