“Yes, what is it?” cried Oliver, in answer to his hail.
“You can trace it all from here with the glass. There is some sea left.”
“So I suppose,” said Panton drily.
“Lies about four miles away to the east-’ard, and the land’s swept right up to us, and then away north-west for a dozen miles, I should say, to the sea on that side.”
“Can you make out the mountain?”
“No; there’s nothing but cloud to the norrard. I expect it’s there, and not very far away.”
“And how far-off is the nearest sea?” asked Oliver.
“’Bout four miles.”
“And what do you make this out to be—an island?”
“Can’t say, sir. Island or peninsula. Can’t be mainland. But I shall be able to settle that before long.”