They ran in the direction Tom pointed, waiting anxiously, in the hope of dragging the man out of the surf as it broke on the shore. Tom rushed in and seized him, as for an instant he was thrown on the beach, or the receding waves would have carried him back. The boys assisted Tom. They recognised the features of the captain, but the hue of death was on his face. His arms fell down as they placed him on the ground.
“He has gone!” cried Tom.
They did what they could to revive him, but life was extinct.
Two other bodies were washed up, but not a human being besides themselves reached the shore alive. They looked around them. The whole bay into which they had been thrown presented a scene of barren wildness and grandeur. A valley opened up from it, and in the distance rose the summit of a lofty volcano, the stream of lava from which had caused the desolation they saw around.
“I am glad we have got ashore alive; but I am afraid we shall die of hunger if we cannot manage to get out of this soon,” said Bass.
“He who brought us on shore will take care of us,” observed Tom. “But we must do our best. The sooner we set off to look for some natives the better.”
“If there are any Christians about here, we are sure, if we can find them, to be treated kindly.”
Having examined the coast as far as they could see on either hand, they agreed to move to the east, in which direction some green shrubs and trees were distinguishable. As they all felt weak and exhausted, there was no time to be lost.
“Won’t it be well to get hold of something to defend ourselves if we are attacked?” said Bass. “I should like to have a club to fight with.”
“It would be no use, Mr Bass,” answered Tom. “We must try to make friends with the natives; I have no fear about the matter.”