"Yes, he got off, and became quite rich before he died."
"Maybe it'll be so with us, lad."
"I hope so. I don't know what I should do if I were alone as he was. It's selfish in me, Bates, to be glad that you are shut up here with me, but I cannot help it."
"You needn't try, lad. It would be mighty dull being alone here, 'specially if you was tied to a tree."
"But suppose we should never get off!"
"We won't suppose that, lad. We are sure to get off some time."
This confident assurance always cheered up Robert, and for the time inspired him with equal confidence. But when day after day passed away and the promised ship did not come in sight, he used to ponder thoughtfully over his situation, and the possibility that he might have to spend years at least on this lonely island. What in the meantime would become of his mother? She might die, and if he ever returned it would be to realize the loss he had sustained. The island, pleasant as it was, began to lose its charm. If his sailor companion ever shared his feelings, he never manifested them, unwilling to let the boy see that he was becoming discouraged.
At length—about six weeks after their arrival upon the island—they were returning from an excursion to the other side of the island, when, on arriving in sight of the shore, an unexpected sight greeted their eyes.
A pole had been planted in the sand, and from it waved the familiar flag, dear to the heart of every American—the star-spangled banner.
They no sooner caught sight of it, than, in joyful excitement, they ran to the shore with all the speed they could muster.