It was some time before we could recover ourselves; then we went to the figure, and stooped down to examine it.
The clothes were those of a European and a sailor; the frame was emaciated and dried up, till it looked like a skeleton; the face was blackened and all withered, and the bony hands were clinched tight.

It was evidently some sailor who had suffered shipwreck in these frightful solitudes, and had drifted here to starve to death in this appalling wilderness.

It was a sight which seemed ominous of our own fate, and Agnew's boasted hope, which had so long upheld him, now sank down into a despair as deep as my own.

What room was there now for hope, or how could we expect any other fate than this?
At length I began to search the pockets of the deceased.
"What are you doing ?" asked Agnew, in a hoarse voice.
"I'm trying to find out who he is," I said.

"Perhaps there may be papers." As I said this I felt something in the breast-pocket of his jacket, and drew it forth.