“Upon my word it is, Frank!” said Stanhope, who, with the young inventor, had come up just at that moment. “It is a sunken vessel!”
“Deeply sunk in the shoals!” said Frank. “Truly that is very odd.”
All crowded about the cavity in the sand.
What was the name of the ship, and how long it had been in this position it was not easy to guess.
But from what could be seen of the woodwork and the shape of the hull, it was evidently of a very antique pattern.
Doubtless it had lain there buried for a hundred years or more. What was the fate of its crew would never be known. Oblivion covered all.
Thoughts of this kind were surging through the mind of Frank Reade, Jr., as he stood there.
Who should say that they would not share the same fate as those castaways, and perhaps find a lonely grave upon the desert isle?
Some time strangers might come and ruminate upon their fate in precisely the same manner. It was a curious thing to ponder on.
But even as they stood thus engrossed around a headland of the isle there swung the hull of a ship.