“But in my own ship, two years after this, I visited the spot. The island was gone; but for more than a mile in circumference the sea was strangely rippled, and gases were constantly escaping that we were glad enough to work to windward of.
“But listen! our good little crew is singing. Well, there is something like hope in that—and in the sweet notes of Tom Wilson’s violin. He’s a good man that, Tandy, but he has a history, else I’m a Hottentot.
“Well, just one look at the sky, and then I’ll turn in, my friend. We don’t know what may be in store for us to-morrow.”
And away up the companion-way went Captain Halcott.
Book Three—Chapter Two.
“I See a Beach of Coral Sand, Dark Figures Moving to and fro.”
Next morning broke bright and fair. Not a cloud in all the heaven’s blue; not a ripple on the water, just a gentle swell that broke in long lines of snow-white foam on the crescent shore—a gentle swell with sea-birds afloat on it. Ah! what would the ocean be to a sailor were there no birds. The sea-gulls are the last to leave him, long after all other friends are gone, and the land, like a pale blue cloud far away on the horizon, is fading from his view.
“Adieu! adieu! away! away?” they shriek or sing, and as the shades of evening are merging into darkness they disappear. But these same birds are the first to welcome the mariner back, and even should there be no land in sight, or should clouds envelop it, the sight of a single gull flying tack and half-tack around the ship sends a thrill of hope and joy to the sailor’s heart. On the deep, lone sea, too, Jack has ay a friend, should it be but in the stormy petrel, the frigate-bird, or that marvellous eagle of the ocean, the albatross itself.