In a short time, the colonists entered the house again, and their efforts soon restored Ayrton to himself. Neb and Pencroff carried away the bodies of the convicts and buried them in the wood. Then, Ayrton was informed by the engineer of all that had happened during his imprisonment. “And now,” said Smith, finishing his recital, “we have one thing more to do. Half of our task is accomplished; but if the convicts are no longer to be feared, we did not restore ourselves to the mastership of the island!” “Very well,” replied Spilett, “let us search all the mazes of Mount Franklin. Let us leave no cavity, no hole unexplored! Ah! if ever a reporter found himself in the presence of an exciting mystery. I am in that position!” “And we will not return to Granite House,” said Herbert, “until we have found our benefactor.” “Yes,” said Smith, “we will do everything that is possible for human beings to do—but, I repeat it, we will not find him till he wills it.” “Shall we stay here at the corral?” asked Pencroff. “Yes,” replied the engineer, “let us remain here. Provisions are abundant, and we are in the centre of our circle of investigation, and, moreover, if it is necessary, the wagon can go quickly to Granite House.” “All right,” said Pencroff. “Only one thing.” “What is that?” “Why, the fine weather is here, and we must not forget that we have a voyage to make.” “A voyage?” asked Spilett. “Yes, to Tabor Island. We most put up a notice, indicating our island, in case the Scotch yacht returns. Who knows that it is not already too late?” “But, Pencroff,” asked Ayrton, “how do you propose to make this voyage?” “Why, on the Good Luck!” “The Good Luck!” cried Ayrton. “It’s gone!” “Gone!” shouted Pencroff, springing to his feet. “Yes. The convicts discovered where the sloop lay, and, a week ago, they put out to sea in her, and—” “And?” said Pencroff, his heart trembling. “And, not having Harvey to manage her, they ran her upon the rocks, and she broke all to pieces!” “Oh! the wretches! the pirates! the devils!” exclaimed the sailor. “Pencroff,” said Herbert, taking his hand, “we will build another, a larger Good Luck. We have all the iron, all the rigging of the brig at our disposal!” “But, do you realize,” answered Pencroff, “that it will take at least five or six months to build a vessel of thirty or forty tons.” “We will take our time,” replied the reporter, “and we will give up our voyage to Tabor Island for this year.” “We must make the best of it, Pencroff,” said the engineer, “and I hope that this delay will not be prejudicial to us.” “My poor Good Luck! my poor boat!” exclaimed the sailor, half broken-hearted at the loss of what was so dear to him. The destruction of the sloop was a thing much to be regretted, and it was agreed that this loss must be repaired as soon as the search was ended.