What, then, was Herbert's joy, when he recognised potatoes, chicory, sorrel, carrots, cabbages, and turnips, of which it was sufficient to collect the seed to enrich the soil of Lincoln Island. "Capital, jolly!" exclaimed Pencroft. "That will suit Neb as well as us. Even if we do not find the castaway, at least our voyage will not have been useless, and God will have rewarded us." "Doubtless," replied Gideon Spilett; "but to see the state in which we find these plantations, it is to be feared that the island has not been inhabited for some time." "Indeed," answered Herbert, "an inhabitant, whoever he was, could not have neglected such an important culture!" "Yes," said Pencroft, "the castaway has gone." "We must suppose so." "It must then be admitted that the document has already a distant date?" "Evidently." "And that the bottle only arrived at Lincoln Island after having floated in the sea a long time." "Why not," returned Pencroft. "But night is coming on," added he, "and I think that it will be best to give up the search for the present." "Let us go on board, and to-morrow we will begin again," said the reporter. This was the wisest course, and it was about to be followed when Herbert, pointing to a confused mass among the trees, exclaimed,-- "A hut!" All three immediately ran towards the dwelling. In the twilight it was just possible to see that it was built of planks and covered with a thick tarpaulin. The half-closed door was pushed open by Pencroft, who entered with a rapid step. The hut was empty! [Illustration: A HUT!] CHAPTER XIV The Inventory -- Night -- A few Letters -- Continuation of the Search -- Plants and Animals -- Herbert in great Danger -- On Board -- The Departure -- Bad Weather -- A Gleam of Reason -- Lost on the Sea -- A timely Light. Pencroft, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett remained silent in the midst of the darkness. Pencroft shouted loudly. No reply was made. The sailor then struck a light and set fire to a twig. This lighted for a minute a small room, which appeared perfectly empty. At the back was a rude fireplace, with a few cold cinders, supporting an armful of dry wood. Pencroft threw the blazing twig on it, the wood cracked and gave forth a bright light. The sailor and his two companions then perceived a disordered bed, of which the damp and yellow coverlets proved that it had not been used for a long time. In the corner of the fireplace were two kettles, covered with rust, and an overthrown pot. A cupboard, with a few mouldy sailor's clothes; on the table a tin plate and a Bible, eaten away by damp; in a corner a few tools, a spade, pickaxe, two fowling-pieces, one of which was broken; on a plank, forming a shelf, stood a barrel of powder, still untouched, a barrel of shot, and several boxes of caps, all thickly covered with dust, accumulated, perhaps, by many long years. "There is no one here," said the reporter. "No one," replied Pencroft.