John waited. The light gradually increased, and the horizon acquired a rosy hue. The curtain slowly rose over the vast watery stage. Black reefs rose out of the waters. Then a line became defined on the belt of foam, and there gleamed a luminous beacon-light point behind a low hill which concealed the scarcely risen sun. There was the land, less than nine miles off.
“Land ho!” cried John Mangles.
His companions, aroused by his voice, rushed to the poop, and gazed in silence at the coast whose outline lay on the horizon. Whether they were received as friends or enemies, that coast must be their refuge.
“Where is Halley?” asked Glenarvan.
“I do not know, my Lord,” replied John Mangles.
“Where are the sailors?”
“Invisible, like himself.”
“Probably dead drunk, like himself,” added McNabbs.
“Let them be called,” said Glenarvan, “we cannot leave them on the ship.”
Mulrady and Wilson went down to the forecastle, and two minutes after they returned. The place was empty! They then searched between decks, and then the hold. But found no trace of Will Halley nor his sailors.