might never be another magazine of supply, and he
ransacked her thoroughly, taking off more tools, weapons, clothing and
ammunition. Even then he left on board much that might be useful in case
of emergency, such as cordage, sails, and clothing that had belonged to
the sailors. There was also a large quantity of ammunition for the Long
Tom which he did not disturb. The gun itself was still on board the
ship, dismounted and wedged into the woodwork, but practically as good
as ever. Robert, with an eye for the picturesque, thought it would have
been fine to have taken it ashore and to have mounted it before the
house, but that, of course, was impossible. He must leave it to find its
grave in the ocean, and that, perhaps, was the best end to a gun used as
the Long Tom had been.

Part of his new treasures he took across the island on his back, and
part he carried around it in the boat, which he found to be invaluable,
and of which he took the utmost care, drawing it upon the beach at
night, beyond the reach of tide or storm.

More than two weeks passed in these labors, and he was so busy, mind and
body, that he was seldom lonely except at night. Then the feeling was
almost overpowering, but whenever he was assailed by it he would
resolutely tell himself that he might be in far worse case. He had
shelter, food and arms in plenty, and it would not be long before he was
taken off the island. Exerting his will so strongly, the periods of
depression became fewer and shorter.

But the silence and the utter absence of his own kind produced a marked
effect upon his character. He became graver, he thought more deeply upon
serious things than his years warranted. The problem of his own identity
was often before him. Who was he? He was sure that Benjamin Hardy knew.
Jacobus Huysman must know, too, and beyond a doubt Adrian Van Zoon did,
else he would not try so hard to put him out of the way. And St. Luc
must have something to do with this coil. Why had the Frenchman really
pointed out to him the way of escape when he was a prisoner at
Ticonderoga? He turned these questions over and over and over in his
mind, though always the answer evaded him. But he resolved to solve the
problem when he got back to the colonies and as soon as the great war
was over. It was perhaps typical of him that he should want his own
personal fortunes to wait upon the issue of the mighty struggle in which
he was so deeply absorbed.

Then his thoughts turn