Poor lad! poor lad! I have behaved very badly to him." Augusta stood still, racking her brain for some expedient, for she was determined that Eustace Meeson should not lose the chance of that colossal fortune if she could help it.

It was but a poor chance at the best, for Mr.Meeson might not be dying, after all.

And if he did die, it was probable that his fate would be their fate also, and no record would remain of them or of Mr.Meeson's testamentary wishes.

As things looked at present, there was every prospect of their all perishing miserably on that desolate shore.
Just then the sailor Bill, who had been up to the flagstaff on the rock on the chance of catching sight of some passing vessel, came walking past.

His flannel shirt-sleeves were rolled up to the elbows of his brawny arms, and as he stopped to speak to Augusta she noticed something that made her start, and gave her an idea.
"There ain't nothing to be seen," said the man, roughly; "and it is my belief that there won't be neither.