He would gladly after this have rested in his cave, for the rays of the sun, now high in the heavens, beat down with intense force on his unprotected head. At the same time, the pangs of hunger reminded him that he must go in search of more substantial food than cocoanuts would afford. He had heard that turtles laid their eggs on the sandy beaches of these islands, but whether he should find them at this time of the year, or whether the young turtles had been hatched and crawled away, he was utterly ignorant. As he walked along the shore, he carefully examined the sand, in the hopes of finding some mounds or the marks of turtles' feet to show where their eggs had been deposited, but not an indication of any sort could he discover. "I shall have to depend upon shell-fish," he said to himself; "there must be numbers sticking to the rocks, and I must try and get them off with my knife. I wish that I had some fishing-hooks and lines. By scrambling out to the end of a reef I might very likely catch as many fish as I require, but as I have not the hooks and lines, I must manage with what I can get." He sighed as he felt his helplessness. On looking along the beach he saw it covered with pieces of wreck as far as the eye could reach. He might at all events find something useful among the articles thrown up. He had not got far when he caught sight of a human form surging up and down, close to the beach. It might be some person who, having clung on to a piece of the wreck during the night, was attempting to reach the shore. He rushed forward to assist the man to land, but scarcely had he seized an arm than he saw that it was that of a dead body. He did not, however, let go his hold, but dragged it up on the beach. "I must bury the poor fellow, at all events," he observed, looking at the countenance of the man, who was one of the ordinary seamen. The discovery of the body made him look more narrowly along the beach, and he saw several others either thrown up, or floating close to the shore. The sight brought Richard Hargrave to his recollection. "He is probably among them," he thought, "and I was the cause of dragging him away from his home, prompted by my revengeful spirit and bad feelings. I am as guilty as if I were his murderer. I wish that he had made good his escape and remained at home, and I would give much now to know that he had reached the shore in safety, but that is not likely." He dragged up body after body, scanning their countenances anxiously, fearing that he should recognise that of Richard Hargrave. At last he came to one with grizzled hair and beard, which he recognised as that of the smuggler Ben Rudall, who had by his means been torn from his home.