It may seem strange that they had never made a second visit to the place where the treasure was concealed; but it had lost its attractions for them.
They did not even speculate as to its value. It was absolutely worthless to them in their present condition.
They spent most of their time on the summit of the hill, looking out to sea in search of a ship. They felt that the Osprey would be sent back for them, but it was long to wait. If they could get off sooner, so much the better.
Abner Titcomb had a marine glass with him, and this helped them.
Once with his glass he espied a ship, a mere speck in the distance, and there was hope that it would come nearer the island.
They tried to signal it, but it was too far away, and no heed was paid to the white sailcloth that they hoisted above the hill on a branch of a tree. This was a severe disappointment.
“John Wolf was here four years without signaling a sail,” said Luke Clark, in a tone of discouragement. “There seems to be little hope for us.”
So day followed day, and each one seemed longer than the last.
They liked to sit and talk of their New England homes, and all that made them attractive. They tried to fancy how those who were dear to them were occupied.
“My father is writing his sermon for Sunday,” Guy would say on a Saturday morning. “What would he think if he could know where I am?”