“Well, dear, what is it? You have news of some kind for us, I see; but not bad news, I hope.”
“Oh no,” she replied; “it is not bad news at all—at least I should think not. It is simply that there is a ship approaching the island, and as I thought you would be glad to know it as soon as possible, I decided to come on and tell you at once.”
“Thanks, very much,” replied Dick. “This is indeed interesting news. Whereabouts is she, and how far off?”
“She is over there, in that direction,” replied Flora, pointing to the north-westward. “It was by the merest accident that I happened to see her. I took the fancy to go up toward Mermaid Head to gather a bouquet of those lovely orchids that grow in that direction, thinking that probably it would be my last opportunity to get any of them, and it was while I was gathering them that I saw her. She is still a good distance away; and I might have thought that she was merely passing the island, for when I first saw her she was sailing in that direction,”—sweeping her hand from west to east; “but while I was still watching her she turned round, and now is coming nearly straight for the island.”
“Ah,” remarked Leslie, thoughtfully, “this is certainly interesting, and I am much obliged to you for coming out to tell us. Let us be getting on toward the camp; there may still be time for me to run up to the point and have a look at her ere nightfall.” Then, following up his own train of thought, he added, “If she be as far off as you describe, she will hardly be near enough to hit off the entrance channel and come inside before dark—that is to say, if she really means to pay us a visit.”
Nothing more was said upon the subject just then; but as soon as Leslie reached the camp he procured the telescope, and, hurrying away to the nearest point from which it would be possible to obtain a view of the stranger, subjected her to as careful a scrutiny as the circumstances permitted.
After all, however, there was not very much to be learned about her, for she was about twelve miles distant, dead to leeward of the island, and as the sun was already dipping below the horizon, the time available for observation was but short. He could distinguish, however, that she was barque-rigged, and apparently a very smart little vessel of about three hundred tons or thereabout. That she was beating up to fetch the island was obvious; for whereas when Leslie first sighted her she was on the port tack, heading south, she shortly afterwards tacked to the eastward, thus—in conjunction with what Flora had already observed—clearly indicating that her purpose was at least to pass the island as closely as possible, if not to actually touch at it. And that the latter was her intention Leslie had no manner of doubt; for if she had intended merely to pass it closely by, there would have been no need for her to have made that last board to the eastward; by standing on to the southward she would have slid down under the lee of the island quite closely enough to have made the most detailed observations that her commander might have deemed necessary. There was one peculiarity connected with her that for some inexplicable reason took hold upon Leslie’s mind with a persistence that was positively worrying to him, yet it was a peculiarity of apparently the most trivial and unimportant character; it was simply that when she tacked he noticed—with that keenness of observation that is so peculiarly the attribute of the highly trained naval officer—that her yards were swung very slowly, and one after the other, as though she were very short-handed, even for a merchant vessel.
As Leslie closed the telescope and thoughtfully wended his way back toward the camp, he found himself perplexed by the presence within his mind of two strangely conflicting trains of thought. On the one hand, here was a ship approaching the island, and either intending to make a call at it, or to approach it so closely that it would be the simplest matter in the world for him to go out on the catamaran and intercept her. By acting thus he would be able, without any difficulty, to secure for his companions and himself transport to some civilised port from which it would be easy for them to obtain a passage to England, even though the barque herself should not be homeward-bound. And that transport would be at least of as safe a character as that afforded by the cutter, while it would be infinitely more comfortable, at all events for Flora, should they happen to encounter bad weather. Following this train of thought, it seemed to Leslie that the obvious commonsense course for him to pursue was to take the catamaran, go out to the barque, and, acquainting the skipper with all the circumstances relating to the presence of the little party upon the island, pilot her into the lagoon, with the view of coming to some arrangement for the shipping of himself and his companions on board her on the morrow.
But against this plan there was the thought of the treasure. What was to be done with it? Would it be prudent or advisable to entrust a property of such enormous value to a crew of absolute strangers, of whose characters he would have no time or opportunity to judge? Upon this point he had no doubt whatever; the answer to this question was a most emphatic negative. But if—so ran his thoughts—he was not prepared to ship the treasure aboard this unknown barque, and entrust it to her unknown crew, what was he to do with it? Was he to leave it concealed in the cavern that had already been its hiding-place for so many years, and return to fetch it away at some more convenient season? His recent experience of the great physical changes that may be wrought by an earthquake shock had already impressed upon him a strong conviction of the possibility that a second shock might at any moment bury the treasure irrecoverably; and this conviction was as strong an argument against the adoption of the alternative course as a man need wish for. No; he felt that it would be equally unwise for him to ship it aboard the stranger, and to leave it on the island until he could return to fetch it. If he desired to make sure of it—as he most certainly did—his proper course was to carry it away in the cutter, as he had always intended. And as to Nicholls and Simpson, he felt that, despite the appearance of this mysterious barque upon the scene, his liberal offer to them would quite suffice to hold them to their bargain with him. The ground thus cleared, there remained only Flora to be considered; and Dick very quickly arrived at the conclusion that she, and she only, was the one who could decide whether she would leave the island in the barque or accompany him in the cutter. But he had not much doubt as to what her decision would be.