“Probably the smoke we saw yesterday may have something to do with the matter,” observed the doctor. “At all events, there is no time to be lost.”
He gazed as he spoke over the intervening country. There were deep valleys to be passed, and steep hills, with rugged rocks and precipices, to be scaled. Having taken the bearings of the vessel, they set out. They first had to descend the mountain side. They soon came to a soft boggy ground, and were obliged to make a wide circuit to avoid it. Not without considerable difficulty did they at length reach the bottom of the valley. A stream was to be crossed; they waded through it, regardless of the cold. Now they came to a precipice. Considerable time was spent before they could find a way to the top. Then they were involved in a labyrinth of huge rugged rocks. The sun shining brightly enabled them to keep a tolerably correct course, otherwise it would have been difficult to determine in what direction they were going. On and on they went. The hope of obtaining relief for themselves and their friends kept up their spirits; but Peter Patch at length cried out that he could go no further. They had brought some baked roots and cooked wild-fowl with them. A stream which came trickling down the side of the hill afforded a refreshing draught of water. They would not stop to light a fire, but, taking a hurried meal, again pushed on. The doctor himself confessed that he was beginning to get knocked up; still they thought that they must soon reach a height from which they could make a signal to the ship. For the last hour or more, however, they had been unable to get sight of her.
“Had she been at anchor, I should have had more hopes of doing so,” said the doctor; “but still we must not despair.”
“That’s the hill,” cried Willy; “I know it by its shape. If we can get to the top of it we shall reach the shore in a short time.”
The rest of the party thought Willy was right, and thus encouraged, made their way with renewed ardour. The summit of the hill was free of trees. They gained it at length. Willy was the first to reach the top. A cry escaped him. “She is gone! she is gone!” he exclaimed. He waved his cap frantically; he shouted as if his voice could reach across the intervening ocean. The rest soon joined him. A ship under all sail was standing away with a fresh breeze from the land, from which she was already some three miles distant.
“The smoke of a fire might still attract the attention of those on board,” said the doctor. Willy and Peter ran down the hill, and began hewing away at the driest bushes they could find. A fire was soon lighted. More bushes were brought; a thick column of smoke ascended in the air. How eagerly they gazed at the receding ship. Still she stood on. No attention was paid to their signal.
“They either do not see it, or think that it is the result of accident,” observed the doctor.
More bushes were thrown on the fire, and then they hurried down the hill.
“Perhaps she may be a sealer, and landed some of the crew to catch seals from the shore. If so, she may return,” remarked the captain.
“She does not look like one,” said Willy.