Some months now elapsed without giving rise to any event of note.

All the men, women, and children in the colony had been busily employed from early morn to late at e'en.

No sooner had one field been sown than there was another to plant; then came the grain harvest and its hard but healthy toil; next, much to the delight of Willis, herrings appeared on the coast, followed by their attendant demons, the sea-dogs; salmon-fishing, hunting ortolans, the foundries and manufactories, likewise exacted a portion of their time.
Frequently parties were occupied for weeks together in the remote districts; so that, with the exception of one day each week--the Sabbath--the two families had of late been rarely assembled together in one spot.
The hope of ever again beholding the _Nelson_ had gradually ceased to be entertained by anybody.

Like an echo that resounds from rock to rock until it is lost in the distance, this hope had died away in their breasts.

Willis nevertheless continued to keep the beacon on Shark's Island alight; but he regarded it more as a sepulchral lamp in commemoration of the dead, than as a signal for the living.
One morning, the break of day was announced by a cannon-shot.