"Great Heavens!" cried Brandon, starting back--"the _Vishnu!_"
After a moment of horror Brandon walked away for a short distance, and then turning he looked fixedly at the wreck for a long time.
Could this be indeed _the_ ship--_the Vishnu_? By what marvelous coincidence had he thus fallen upon it? It was in 1828 that the _Vishnu_ sailed from Calcutta for Manilla. Was it possible for this vessel to be preserved so long? And if so, how did it get here?
Yet why not? As to its preservation that was no matter in itself for wonder. East Indian vessels are sometimes built of mahogany, or other woods which last for immense periods. Any wood might endure for eighteen years if covered up by sand. Besides, this vessel he recollected had been laden with staves and box shooks, with other wooden materials which would keep it afloat. It might have drifted about these seas till the currents bore it here. After all it was not so wonderful that this should be the _Vishnu_ of Colonel Despard.
The true marvel was that he himself should have been cast ashore here on the same place where this ship was.
He stood for a long time not caring to enter. His strength had been worn down by the privations of his island life; his nerves, usually like steel, were becoming unstrung; his mind had fallen into a morbid state, and was a prey to a thousand strange fancies. The closed doors of the cabin stood there before him, and he began to imagine that some frightful spectacle was concealed within.
Perhaps he would find some traces of that tragedy of which he had heard. Since the ship had come here, and he had been cast ashore to meet it, there was nothing which he might not anticipate.
A strange horror came over him as he looked at the cabin. But he was not the man to yield to idle fancies. Taking a long breath he walked across the island, and then back again. By that time he had completely recovered, and the only feeling now remaining was one of intense curiosity.
This time he went up without hesitation, and climbed on board the vessel. The sand was heaped up astern, the masts gone, and the hatchways torn off, as has been said. The wind which had blown the sand away had swept the decks as clean as though they had been holy-stoned. Not a rope or a spar or any movable of any kind could be seen.