The midday meal over we all return on deck—all with the exception of Thomas Roch, who has not quitted his cabin.
Towards one o’clock land is sighted by the lookout man on the foretop cross-tree. Inasmuch as the Ebba is bowling along at great speed I shall soon be able to make out the coast line.
In effect, two hours later a vague semicircular line that curves outward is discernible about eight miles off. As the schooner approaches it becomes more distinct. It is a mountain, or at all events very high ground, and from its summit a cloud of smoke ascends.
What! A volcano in these parts? It must then be——
CHAPTER VIII.
BACK CUP.
In my opinion the Ebba could have struck no other group of islands but the Bermudas in this part of the Atlantic. This is clear from the distance covered from the American coast and the direction sailed in since we issued from Pamlico Sound. This direction has constantly been south-southeast, and the distance, judging from the Ebba’s rate of speed, which has scarcely varied, is approximately seven hundred and fifty miles.
Still, the schooner does not slacken speed. The Count d’Artigas and Engineer Serko remain aft, by the man at the wheel. Captain Spade has gone forward.
Are we not going to leave this island, which appears to be isolated, to the west?