“However, there doesn’t seem to be any one in that place—neither native nor white man,” went on Mrs. Brown after a pause, during which they all looked intently at the small house. “It may be like the hut—deserted.”
“It seems so,” said her husband, while Bunny and Sue waited for what would next happen. “Hello in there!” suddenly called Mr. Brown in a loud voice. “Is any one there?”
No one answered nor did any one come forth. After waiting a little longer Mr. Brown walked slowly toward the house, followed by his wife and the children. And as he drew near it Mr. Brown cried out:
“Why, it’s a ship’s deckhouse. This is part of a wrecked ship that has been washed up on shore. I thought it looked so at the first glimpse I had of it, and now I am sure. This house is part of a ship.”
“What ship?” Sue Brown wanted to know.
“That would be hard to say unless the name of the vessel was painted somewhere on the house,” answered her father. “But let’s look inside.”
When they had done this they found the ship’s house to be well fitted up for a home. On one side of the place were two berths like those in the Beacon, only smaller. One of these was arranged with blankets and a pillow and it looked as if it was ready for some one to sleep in. The upper berth was not made up, but there was a pile of blankets in it.
In the middle of the little house was a table, and on it were some dishes. A few boxes served as chairs. In a corner a rough fireplace had been made of stones, plastered together with mud and sand.
“Some one has been living here!” exclaimed Mrs. Brown.
“Yes,” agreed her husband. “And it looks, from the neatness of it, to be the home of some sailor. No native would keep the place so nice.”