Eagerly they all, except Jack, strained their eyes on the distant object.
"Appears to me like one o' them Sitka Indian totem-poles," called Broncho to the rover. "It's a cert it ain't got no fixin's."
"No hull in sight yet?" asked Jack, with the low, subdued voice which had come upon him with his blindness.
"Nary a thing. It shore looks some queer an' lonely out thar, a-stickin' out o' the scenery like a burnt pine."
Suddenly Jim began shouting with all the strength of his lungs.
"Land ho! Land! Land! Land! Hurray! The island at last!"
Sure enough the boy was right. Away a point to starboard of the mysterious mast a long clump of palms was appearing in view.
"Him Low Island" asserted Tari, after a short look.
"An atoll, certainly," said Jack from aft; "but we're rather far south for the Low Archipelago. It must be one of the Gambier group."
"Why, it's quite close," cried Jim. "I can see the surf now all along, and the mast is sticking right out of the middle of it."