"What are you going to do about it?" asked Roger.
"I don't exactly know what to do, yet, lad. We are marooned, that is all there is to it. And it doesn't look as if they had left us anything to live on, either," added the captain, casting his eyes along the shore.
"Do you mean to say they have deserted us?" cried Dave.
"Doesn't it look like it?"
"And stolen the bark?"
"Yes."
Dave drew a long breath. Here was another set-back, of which he had not dreamed. If the Stormy Petrel had really sailed away, not to return, what were they to do, and when would they get a chance to leave the lonely island?
"This is positively the worst yet!" groaned Roger. "The fellows who would do such a thing ought to be—be hanged! And they haven't left us a thing!"
"Let us separate and see if we can sight the bark," said the captain, and this was done, one party going to the upper end of the island and the other to the lower. But not a trace of the missing vessel was to be seen.
It was a decidedly sober party that gathered on the sands two hours later to discuss the situation and decide upon what was to be done. Here they
