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“Shore ahoy!” came back at once in the ringing tones of a seaman’s voice.

“Pull in; there’s plenty of water!” shouted Jack.

“Ay, ay,” was the response. In a few seconds the boat’s keel grated on the sand, and an active sailor jumped ashore. There were five other men in the boat.

“Where have you dropped from?” enquired Jack. “Well, the last place we dropped from,” answered the seaman, “was the port quarter davits of the good ship Ontario, Captain Jones, from Liverpool to Quebec, with a general cargo; that was last night, and ten minutes afterwards, the Ontario dropped to the bottom of the sea.”

“Wrecked!” exclaimed Jack.

“Just so. Leastwise, sprung a leak and gone to the bottom.”

“No hands lost, I hope?”

“No, all saved in the boats; but we parted company in the night, and haven’t seen each other since. Is there any port hereabouts, where we could get a bit o’ summat to eat?”

“There is, friend. Just pull six miles farther along shore as you are going, and you’ll come to the place that I have the honour and happiness to command–we call it Fort Desolation. You and your party are heartily welcome to food and shelter there, and you’ll find an Irishman in charge who will be overjoyed, I doubt not, to act the part of host. To-morrow night I shall return to the fort.”

The shipwrecked mariners, who were half-starved, received this news with a cheer, and pushing off, resumed their oars with fresh vigour, while Jack and his man continued their journey.

They reached the fishery before dawn, and, without awakening the men, retired at once to rest.

Before breakfast, Jack was up, and went out to inspect the place. He found that his orders, about repairing the roof of the out-house and the clearing up, had not been attended to. He said nothing at first, but, from the quiet settled expression of his face, the men felt convinced that he did not mean to let it pass.

He ordered Ladoc to repair the roof forthwith, and bade Rollo commence a general clearing-up. He also set the other men to various occupations, and gave each to understand, that when his job was finished he might return to breakfast. The result of this was, that breakfast that morning was delayed till between eleven and twelve, the fishery speedily assumed quite a new aspect, and that the men ate a good deal more than usual when they were permitted to break their fast.

After breakfast, while they were seated outside the door of their hut smoking, Jack smoked his pipe alone by the margin of the river, about fifty yards off.

“Monsieur be meditating of something this morning,” observed little Francois Xavier, glancing at Rollo with a twinkle in his sharp grey eye.

“He may meditate on what he likes, for all that I care,” said Rollo with a scornful laugh. “He’ll find it difficult to cow me, as I’ll let him know before long.”

Ladoc coughed, and an unmistakable sneer curled his lip as he relighted his pipe. The flushed face of Rollo showed what he felt, but, as nothing had been said, he could not with propriety give vent to his passion.

At that moment Jack Robinson hailed Ladoc, who rose and went towards him. Jack said a few words to him, which, of course, owing to the distance, could not be heard by the men. Immediately after, Ladoc was seen to walk away in the direction of an old Indian burying-ground, which lay in the woods about a quarter of a mile from the fishery.

Five minutes later Jack hailed Rollo, who obeyed the summons, and after a few words with his master, went off in the same direction as Ladoc. There seemed something mysterious in these movements. The mystery was deepened when Jack hailed Francois Xavier, and sent him after the other two, and it culminated when Jack himself, after allowing five minutes more to elapse, sauntered away in the same direction with a stout cudgel under his arm. He was soon lost to view in the woods.