Chapter Fifty One.
First Greetings.
Day after day passed by, and Harry and his shipwrecked companions began to despair of escaping from the island. If Jack Headland had lived there so many years without seeing a ship, it was possible that they might have to continue an equal length of time unless they could build a vessel in which to make their escape; but no wood was procurable, nor did they possess tools fit for the purpose.
A gale of almost equal violence to that which wrecked their ship was blowing, when Jacob, who had been on watch at the hill, rushed into the camp with the intelligence that a sail was visible in the offing. Most of the party hurried up to have a look at her. The general opinion was that she had made out the island, and was endeavouring to give it a wide berth.
“I am afraid that is more than she will do,” observed Jack. “She is fast driving towards the shore.”
“Can she be the Thisbe?” exclaimed Jacob.
“I think not,” observed Harry, “her canvas has not to my eye the spread of a man-of-war.”
As the stranger drew nearer, most of the party agreed that Lieutenant Castleton was right, she was certainly not a man-of-war.