"Inhabited, then!" exclaimed Jack uneasily. "Get those Winchesters loaded, Broncho. One can't trust Paumotu Islanders; they're a treacherous lot, and have cut off many a ship before now."
Swiftly the rushing whaleboat approached before the strong trades.
Here and there to right and left the white water, flashing in the sunshine, swirled and thundered on half-covered reefs, round which countless numbers of shrieking, swooping seabirds hovered and darted as they fished.
Round these reefs the deep blue of the Pacific changed to a translucent emerald green, such as is given to the submerged part of an iceberg when the bright sun is upon it.
The island was evidently but the smallest of coral reefs, studded with a thin growth of cocoanut palms, which seemed thickest at the point where Jim had first sighted them.
Like all atolls, its highest point was but a few feet above the sea-level, and it hung, but a floating speck of shining white sand and green foliage, in the midst of the immense space of blue sea and sky.
But for the screaming birds, no sign of life showed, no habitations, no smoke, nothing but the green brush, the gleaming sand, and shining, flashing surf.
And yet, set in the very midst, rose a gigantic palm, bare as a ship's spare topgallant mast, entirely denuded of its cluster of yellow fruit and waving, fernlike branches.
From its top fluttered a small, small flag, undistinguishable at the distance, but without possible doubt a signal of some importance, put there by human hands.