It was the island, surely enough, though still a great way off—so far that from the deck and with the naked eye nothing could be seen but a faint smudge that might have been a trace of smoke clinging to the sea line.
The wind had fallen a bit, and now, as if beneath the weight of afternoon, it was falling still more.
Floyd hove the log. They were making seven knots, and he calculated that it would be sundown before they could make the break in the reef.
Dinner was served, but they could scarcely eat; the weather held all their thoughts, and the dread of the wind falling to a flat calm was on both their minds.
At four o'clock, however, the wind was still steady, and the land ahead was visible now clearly from the deck.
Floyd, who had gone aloft, suddenly hailed Cardon, who was on deck, and the latter came up to him.
"Look out and tell me what you see," said Floyd, handing him the glass he had been using.
Cardon looked through the glass.
"By gad," said he, "there's a vessel in the lagoon."
The glass showed the reef and the grove on the right of the break distinctly. The break in the reef was not so clear, as they were heading slightly to the south of it; but very clearly indeed could be seen the threadlike masts of a vessel anchored in the lagoon. She was stripped of canvas. She was a schooner.