The time passed on.  Would he never come?  We grew more and more anxious.  Mrs. Millar’s servant-girl came running down to say her mistress wanted to know if we could hear anything yet.

‘No,’ my grandfather said, ’nothing yet, my lass; but it can’t be long now.’

‘Missis is so poorly,’ said the girl; ’I think she’s got a cold:  she shakes all over, and she keeps fretting so.’

‘Poor soul! well, perhaps it’s better so.’

‘Whatever do you mean, grandfather?’ I asked.

’Why, if aught’s amiss, she won’t be so taken aback as if she wasn’t afraid; and if Jem’s all right, why, she’ll only be the better pleased.’

The girl went back, and we still waited on the pier.  ‘Grandfather,’ I said at length, ‘I think I hear a boat.’

It was a very still night; we stood and listened.  At first my grandfather said he heard nothing; but at length he distinguished, as I did, the regular plash—­plash—­plash—­of oars in the distance.

‘Yes, it is a boat,’ said my grandfather.

I was hastening to leave the pier, and run up to the house to tell Mrs. Millar, but my grandfather laid his hand on my shoulder.

‘Wait a bit, Alick, my lad,’ he said; ’let us hear what it is first; maybe it isn’t Jem, after all!’

‘But it’s coming here, grandfather; I can hear it better now.’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it’s coming here;’ but he still kept his hand on my shoulder.

The boat had been a long way off when we first heard it, for it was many minutes before the sound of the oars seemed to become much more distinct.  But it came nearer, and nearer, and nearer.  Yes, the boat was evidently making for the island.

At last it came so near that my grandfather called out from the end of the pier,—­

‘Hollo, Jem!  You’re late, my lad!’

‘Hollo!’ said a voice from the boat; but it wasn’t Jem’s voice.

‘Whereabouts is your landing-place?’ said the voice; ’it’s so thick, I can’t see.’

‘Why, Jem isn’t there, grandfather!’ I said, catching hold of his arm.

‘No,’ said my grandfather; ’I knew there was something wrong with the lad.’

He called out to the man in the boat the direction in which he was to row, and then he and I went down the steps together, and waited for the boat to come up.

There were four men in the boat.  They were sailors, and strangers to me.  One of them, the one whose voice we had heard, got out to speak to my grandfather.

‘Something’s wrong,’ said my grandfather, before he could begin; ‘something’s wrong with that poor lad.’

‘Yes,’ said the man, ’we’ve got him here; and he pointed to the boat.

A cold shudder passed over me as he said this, and I caught sight of something lying at the men’s feet at the bottom of the boat.

‘What’s wrong with him?  Has he had an accident?  Is he much hurt?’

‘He’s dead,’ said the man solemnly.