Several bodies floated also.  Among them, Ayrton recognized that of Bob Harvey, which he pointed out to his companion, saying with some emotion,—­

“That is what I have been, Pencroft.”

“But what you are no longer, brave Ayrton!” returned the sailor warmly.

It was singular enough that so few bodies floated.  Only five or six were counted, which were already being carried by the current towards the open sea.  Very probably the convicts had not had time to escape, and the ship lying over on her side, the greater number of them had remained below.  Now the current, by carrying the bodies of these miserable men out to sea, would spare the colonists the sad task of burying them in some corner of their island.

For two hours, Cyrus Harding and his companions were solely occupied in hauling up the spars on to the sand, and then in spreading the sails which were perfectly uninjured, to dry.  They spoke little, for they were absorbed in their work, but what thoughts occupied their minds!

The possession of this brig, or rather all that she contained, was a perfect mine of wealth.  In fact, a ship is like a little world in miniature, and the stores of the colony would be increased by a large number of useful articles.  It would be, on a large scale, equivalent to the chest found at Flotsam Point.

“And besides,” thought Pencroft, “why should it be impossible to refloat the brig?  If she has only a leak, that may be stopped up; a vessel from three to four hundred tons, why she is a regular ship compared to our ‘Bonadventure’!  And we could go a long distance in her!  We could go anywhere we liked!  Captain Harding, Ayrton and I must examine her!  She would be well worth the trouble!”

In fact, if the brig was still fit to navigate, the colonists’ chances of returning to their native land were singularly increased.  But, to decide this important question, it was necessary to wait until the tide was quite low, so that every part of the brig’s hull might be examined.

When their treasures had been safely conveyed on shore, Harding and his companions agreed to devote some minutes to breakfast.  They were almost famished; fortunately, the larder was not far off, and Neb was noted for being an expeditious cook.  They breakfasted, therefore, near the Chimneys, and during their repast, as may be supposed, nothing was talked of but the event which had so miraculously saved the colony.

“Miraculous is the word,” repeated Pencroft, “for it must be acknowledged that those rascals blew up just at the right moment!  Granite House was beginning to be uncomfortable as a habitation!”

“And can you guess, Pencroft,” asked the reporter, “how it happened, or what can have occasioned the explosion?”

“Oh!  Mr. Spilett, nothing is more simple,” answered Pencroft.  “A convict vessel is not disciplined like a man-of-war!  Convicts are not sailors.  Of course the powder-magazine was open, and as they were firing incessantly, some careless or clumsy fellow just blew up the vessel!”