ir valuable store of food was left, while others
ran to the spot in Fairyland where the keel of the new boat had been
laid. The latter party found to their joy that all was safe, everything
having been well secured; but a terrible sight met the eyes of the other
men. Not a vestige of all their store remained! The summit of the
sandbank was as smooth as on the day they landed there. Casks, boxes,
barrels--all were gone; everything had been swept away into the sea!

Almost instinctively the men turned their eyes towards the reef on which
the _Red Eric_ had grounded, each man feeling that in the wrecked vessel
all his hope now remained. It, too, was gone! The spot on which it had
lain was now washed by the waves, and a few broken planks and spars on
the beach were all that remained to remind them of their ocean home!

The men looked at each other with deep despondency expressed in their
countenances. They were haggard and worn from exposure, anxiety, and
want of rest; and as they stood there in their wet, torn garments, they
looked the very picture of despair.

"There's one chance for us yet, lads," exclaimed Tim Rokens, looking
carefully round the spot on which they stood.

"What's that?" exclaimed several of the men eagerly, catching at their
comrade's words as drowning men are said to catch at straws.

"Briant an' me buried some o' the things, by good luck, when we were
sent to make all snug here, an' I'm of opinion they'll be here yet, if
we could only find the place. Let me see."

Rokens glanced round at the rocks beside which their hut had found
shelter, and at the reef where the ship had been wrecked, in order to
find the "bearin's o' the spot," as he expressed it. Then walking a few
yards to one side, he struck his foot on the sand and said, "It should
be hereabouts."

The blow of his heel returned a peculiar hollow sound, very unlike that
produced by stamping on the mere sand.

"Shure ye've hit the very spot, ye have," cried Briant, falling on his
knees beside the place; and scraping up the sand with both hands. "It
sounds uncommon like a bread-cask. Here it is. Hurrah! boys, lind a
hand, will ye. There now, heave away; but trate it tinderly! Shure
it's the only friend we've got in the wide world."

"You're all wrong, Phil," cried Gurney, who almost at the same moment
began to scrape another hole close by. "It's not our only one; here's
another friend o' the same family. Bear a hand, lads!