e them, brother! No, I
can't say I recollect what day it is. Tuesday, is it not?"

"I don't mean that," said Fritz petulantly. "I alluded to the sort of
anniversary, that's all."

"Anniversary of what?"

"Our landing here last year," replied Fritz.

"Oh, I forgot that!" exclaimed Eric.

"It strikes me you forget a good many things," said his brother in his
dry way. "Still, what I was thinking of was, that we might now really
begin to look out for Captain Brown. What a pity it is that you can't
ascend to your old signalling station on top of the gully."

"Yes, it was all on account of the grass burning that our ladder got
spoilt and--"

"Of course you didn't set it on fire, eh?" interposed Fritz.

"Ah well, it's of no use our talking about that now; words will not mend
matters," said Eric. "We'll have look out from here!"

The wind latterly had been from the east, blowing right into the bay.
On account of this, the brothers could not venture out in the boat and
thus get round the headland, so as to climb the plateau from the other
side of the island and scan the offing from thence.

Still, no amount of looking out on their part--or lack of observation,
whichever way the matter was put--seemed to effect the arrival of the
expected ship; for, the month passed away in daily counted days without
a trace of a sail being seen on the horizon.

At last, just when the brothers had given up in despair all hope of
hearing from home, Eric, one morning in October, reported that there was
something in sight to windward of the bay; although, he said, he did not
think she looked like the _Pilot's Bride_.

Hastily jumping into his clothes--for Fritz, sad to relate, could never
practise early rising, in which good habit day after day Eric set him a
praiseworthy example--the elder followed the younger lad again to the
shore of the bay; from which point, well away out to sea, and her hull
just rising from the rolling plane of water, could be seen a vessel.
She was steering for the island apparently, with the wind well on her
beam.

"It isn't Captain Brown's ship," said Eric now decisively, his sailor
eye having distinguished while she was yet in the distance that the
vessel was a fore-and-aft-rigged schooner, although Fritz could not then
tell what sort of craft she was. "It is one of those small whalers that
ply amongst the islands, such as I saw down at Kerguelen."

"What can have become of the skipper, then?" crie