"Land on the starboard bow, sir," added Noah.
Morley's heart leaped at the sound, and the telescopes of Bartelot and Morrison were speedily levelled in the direction indicated.
"It should be Cabo Frio," said the Scotchman.
"And Cabo Frio it is!" added Bartelot, emphatically. "Look, Morley, that is the great headland on the coast of Brazil."
"It was there the Thetis frigate was wrecked in 1830," added Morrison; "she had lost her reckoning, on a dark December night, and was borne more than twenty-four miles to leeward by the current."
"Then we shall see Rio to-night?" said Morley.
"No, no; Rio lies sixty-four miles beyond the Ilha de Cabo Frio—the cold cape, rather a misnomer in this season, at least," replied the mate.
"Steward, bring up the case-bottle; let the men forward have each a tot of grog, while we'll have a glass below on the head of this."
"Head of what, Tom?" asked Morley.
"Scenting the land, to be sure," replied Bartelot, as the three descended to the cabin.