As for Tom, he kept up his screams as long as he could utter a sound.  He tore off his coat, and shook it up and down, and waved it backward and forward.  But none of these things were heard or seen.  The steamboat passed on, until, at length, even Tom became convinced that further efforts were useless.

This last blow was too much.  Tom sank under it, and, falling on his face, he burst into a flood of tears.

Struggling up at length from this last affliction, Tom roused himself, and his buoyancy of soul began once more to assert itself.

“Come now, Thomas, my son,” said he, as he dried his eyes, “this sort of thing will never do, you know.  You’re not a baby, my boy; you’ve never been given to blubbering, I think.  Cheer up, then, like a man, and don’t make me feel ashamed of you.”

This little address to himself had, as before, the effect of restoring his equanimity, and he thought with calmness upon his recent disappointments.

He saw, by the passage of these vessels, what he had for a time lost sight of, namely, that this island, though uninhabited, was still in the middle of a bay which was constantly traversed by sailing vessels and steamboats.  The latter ran regularly up to the Basin of Minas from St. John.  As to the former, they were constantly passing to and fro, from the large ship down to the small fishing vessel.  Inhabited countries surrounded him on every side, between the coasts of which there was a constant communication.  If he only kept patient, the time must come, and that, too, before very long, when he would be delivered.

In order to secure this delivery, however, he saw that it would be necessary to arrange some way by which he might attract the notice of passing vessels.  On this subject he meditated for a long time.  It would be necessary, he thought, to have some sort of a signal in some conspicuous place.  Among the drift-wood he might, perhaps, be able to find some sort of a pole or staff which he could set up.  One might not be enough, but in that case he could put up two, or three, or half a dozen.

The next thing to decide about was the choice of a place.  There was the east end, and the west end—­which was the better?  The west end, where he was standing, was high; but then it was surrounded by trees, and unless he could set up a very tall staff, it could scarcely be noticed.  The east end, on the contrary, was lower; but then it was bare, and any kind of a signal which might be set up there could hardly fail to attract attention.  He could also pile up a heap of drift-wood, and set fire to it, and, by this means, if a vessel were passing by, he could be certain of securing attention.  It did not make much difference which end the signals were placed upon, as far as referred to the passing of vessels; for all that passed by would go along the island, so that both ends would be visible to them.

As to the signals, he felt confident that he could find a staff, or, if one would not be long enough, several could be fastened together.  The coil of rope in the boat would enable him to do this.  The sail would afford material for a flag.