Nearly two years had passed, and no incident worth recording had happened, when one night their island was visited by a most tremendous hurricane. It raged all night, and only subsided in the morning.
At midday, when all was over, Justin, Britomarte and Judith walked up to the top of the mountain to see what had become of the wreck that had remained there for twenty months, high and fast upon the rocks, and perishing slowly by the dry rot.
Justin arranged the telescope and took a sight. And what did he see?
Not the wreck! for the last vestige of the wreck was broken up and carried away by the winds and waves in the last night’s tempest.
He saw a sail, a strange sail, with a strange flag, bearing down upon the island.
CHAPTER XXV.
A STRANGE SAIL.
“What is it, Justin? Oh, dear brother, what is it?” eagerly inquired Miss Conyers, almost losing her presence of mind in the vehemence of her anxiety.
“It is a sail—a strange sail! Compose yourself, dear Britomarte,” answered Mr. Rosenthal, without removing his eye from the glass.
“A sail!” she repeated, breathlessly.
“Yes, dear!”