CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
THE WRECK OF THE BRIG.
"Himmel!" exclaimed Fritz, rising up from the bench on which he was sitting and clutching on to the side of the hut for support, being still very feeble and hardly able to stand upright.

"There must be a ship out there approaching the island.

If she should get too close inshore, she is doomed!" But, Eric did not answer him.

The lad had already rushed down to the beach; and, climbing on to a projecting boulder, was peering into the offing, endeavouring to make out the vessel whose signal gun had been heard in the distance.
The darkness, however, was too great.

The heavens were overcast with thick, drifting clouds, while the sea below was as black as ink--except where the breakers at the base of the cliffs broke in masses of foam that gave out a sort of phosphorescent light for the moment, lighting up the outlines of the headlands during the brief interval, only for them to be swallowed up the next instant in the sombre gloom that enwrapped the bay and surrounding scene.