“There is a man in the crow’s-nest?”
“Dirk Peters himself, at his own request.”
“All right, Jem; we may trust his vigilance.”
“And also his eyes,” I added, “for he is gifted with amazing sight.”
For two hours of very quick sailing not the smallest indication of the group of eight islands was visible.
“It is incomprehensible that we have not come in sight of them,” said the captain. “I reckon that the Halbrane has made sixty miles since this morning, and the islands in question are tolerably close together.”
“Then, captain, we must conclude—and it is not unlikely—that the group to which Tsalal belonged has entirely disappeared in the earthquake.”
“Land ahead!” cried Dirk Peters.
We looked, but could discern nothing on the sea, nor was it until a quarter of an hour had elapsed that our glasses enabled us to recognize the tops of a few scattered islets shining in the oblique rays of the sun, two or three miles to the westward.
What a change! How had it come about? Arthur Pym described spacious islands, but only a small number of tiny islets, half a dozen at most, protruded from the waters.