The Sun of Quebec: A Story of a Great Crisis

by Joseph A. Altsheler

His eyelids drooped and closed once more, and when Robert felt for his pulse a third time there was none. The slaver and pirate was gone, and the lad was alone.

Robert felt an immense desolation. Whatever the man was he had striven to keep him alive, and at the last the captain had shown desire to undo some of the evil that he had done to him. And so it was Adrian Van Zoon who wished to put him out of the way. He had suspected that before, in fact he had been convinced of it, and now the truth of it had been told to him by another. But, why? The mystery was as deep as ever.

Robert had buried the bodies of the sailors in the sand in graves dug with an old bayonet that he had found in the house, and he interred the captain in the same manner, only much deeper. Then he went back to the house and rested a long time. The awful loneliness that he had feared came upon him, and he wrestled with it for hours. That night it became worse than ever, but it was so acute that it exhausted itself, and the next morning he felt better.

Resolved not to mope, he took down the rifle, put some of the smoked beef in his pocket, and started on a long exploration, meaning to cross the high hills that ran down the center of the island, and see what the other half was like.

In the brilliant sunshine his spirits took another rise. After all, he could be much worse off. He had a good house, arms and food, and in time a ship would come. A ship must come, and, with his usual optimism, he was sure that it would come soon.

He passed by the lakes and noted the marshy spot where he had shot the ducks. Others had come back and were feeding there now on the water grasses. Doubtless they had never seen man before and did not know his full destructiveness, but Robert resolved to have duck for his table whenever he wanted it.

A mile or two farther and he saw another but much smaller lake, around the edge of which duck also were feeding, showing him that the supply was practically unlimited. Just beyond the second lake lay the range of hills that constituted the backbone of the island, and although the sun was hot he climbed them, their height being about a thousand feet. From the crest he had a view of the entire island, finding the new half much like the old, low, hilly, covered with forest, and surrounded with a line of reefs on which the surf was breaking.

His eyes followed the long curve of the reefs, and then stopped at a dark spot that broke their white continuity. His blood leaped and instantly he put to his eyes the strong glasses that he had found in the house and that fortunately he had brought with him. Here he found his first impression to be correct. The dark spot was a ship!

But it was no longer a ship that sailed the seas. Instead it was a wrecked and shattered ship, with her bow driven into the sand, and her stern impaled on the sharp teeth of the breakers. Then his heart leaped again. A second long look through the glasses told him that the lines of the ship, bruised and battered though she was, were familiar.

It was the schooner. The storm had brought her to the island also, though to the opposite shore, and there she lay a wreck held by the sand and rocks. He descended the hills, and, after a long walk, reached the beach. The schooner was not broken up as much as he had thought, and as she could be reached easily he decided to board her.