"No," rejoined the other, "she committed suicide; but if it hadn't been for our young recruit, Donald, she wouldn't have gone to her grave alone!"
CHAPTER XI.
BARTON THE MACHINIST.
An island, a sandy, scantily grown spot of land, shaped like a splash of gravy on a plate, loomed up over the Seneca's bow. On it stood a shed, two naked masts with wireless antennæ strung between them, and some tents, and that was all, except that, removed from the shed mentioned above, was a similar and larger structure. This second structure was built on piles right out over the sea, and as the coast of the island declined abruptly at this point, there was considerable water under its corrugated iron roof.
"So that's Barren Island?" asked Rob, who, with the boys and the two officers, was standing on the bridge of the Seneca regarding with the most intense interest that desolate spot of land.
Beyond it lay other islands equally barren, so that applicability of the name was not quite clear, while in the dim distance a faint blue line betokened the Carolina coast.
"Yes, that is Barren Island," nodded Lieutenant Murray; "and strange as it may seem, the hopes of the Naval Department are centered right at this moment on that sandy patch yonder."
"Seems queer, doesn't it?" commented Merritt.