It was about half past four in the morning, and the light of day was beginning to be diffused around, when they reached their destination.  As it was low tide, they could not approach very near, but kept well off the precipitous shores on the south side of the island.  In the course of her drift, while letting go the anchor, she went off to a point about half way down, opposite the shore.  Scarce had her anchor touched bottom, than the impatient boys were all in the boat, calling on Captain Corbet to come along.  The captain and Wade took the oars.

It was a long pull to the shore, and, when they reached it, the tide was so low that there remained a long walk over the beach.  They had landed about half way down the island, and, as they directed their steps to the open ground at the east end, they had a much greater distance to traverse than they had anticipated.  As they walked on, they did not speak a word.  But already they began to doubt whether there was any hope left.  They had been bitterly disappointed as they came near and saw no sign of life.  They had half expected to see some figure on the beach waiting to receive them.  But there was no figure and no shout of joy.

At length, as they drew nearer to the east end, and the light grew brighter, Bart, who was in advance, gave a shout.

They all hurried forward.

Bart was pointing towards something.

It was a signal-staff, with something that looked like a flag hoisted half mast high.

Every heart beat faster, and at once the wildest hopes arose.  They hurried on over the rough beach as fast as possible.  They clambered over rocks, and sea-weed, and drift-wood, and at length reached the bank.  And still, as they drew nearer, the signal-staff rose before them, and the flag at half mast became more and more visible.

Rushing up the bank towards this place, each trying to outstrip the others, they hurried forward, full of hope now that some signs of Tom might be here.  At length they reached the place where Tom had been so long, and here their steps were arrested by the scene before them.

On the point arose the signal-staff, with its heavy flag hanging down.  The wind was now blowing, but it needed almost a gale to hold out that cumbrous canvas.  Close by were the smouldering remains of what had been a huge fire, and all around this were chips and sticks.  In the immediate neighborhood were some bark dishes, in some of which were shrimps and mussels.  Clams and lobsters lay around, with shells of both.

Not far off was a canvas tent, which looked singularly comfortable and cosy.

Captain Corbet looked at all this, and shook his head.

“Bad—­bad—­bad,” he murmured, in a doleful tone.  “My last hope, or, rayther, one of my last hopes, dies away inside of me.  This is wuss than findin’ a desert place.”

“Why?  Hasn’t he been here?  He must have been here,” cried Bart.  “These are his marks.  I dare say he’s here now—­perhaps asleep—­in the camp.  I’ll go—­”