While these thoughts were passing through my mind, I heard the first mate say that be could make out something white on the shore, which he took for a tent or a boat’s sail. As we drew nearer it became evident that there was a tent, but no human being was stirring that we could see. Nearer still a boat was observed, drawn up on the rocks. On further inspection she was discovered to be a complete wreck. Melancholy indeed was the spectacle which told so clearly its own story–how the shipwrecked mariners had been cast on the island in their boat–how they had gone on waiting for relief, and how at length famine had carried them off, one by one, till none remained. Still our captain was not a man to quit the spot after so cursory an inspection.