The captain saw the man he wanted standing on the port side, and called him to him.
"Hunter," he said, "go aft to Mr. Taberman; he'll give you a pair of glasses. Go aloft and keep a sharp lookout for land. We ought to raise it on the port bow."
The effect produced by this order was electrical. The four men whipped around and stared at Jack and at each other.
"Land!" exclaimed one with a foolish grin. "Land!"
Hunter touched his duck hat and flew aft; Jack followed more leisurely. In a couple of minutes Hunter was ensconced in the foretop, eagerly scanning the eastern horizon. Castleport settled himself in the sun on the leeward side of the cockpit, and filled his pipe. He had hardly lighted it and taken half a dozen whiffs, when from aloft rang out the magical cry, "Land!"
"Where away?" shouted the captain, leaping to his feet just as Tab appeared in the companion-way.
"Have we raised it, Jack? Have we raised it?" Tab demanded excitedly.
"Not yet, Tab. Just been sighted," returned Jack, peering up at the fore-crosstrees, and awaiting the lookout's answer to his hail.
"'Bout two points off the weather-bow," sang out Hunter from aloft. "Just a low bank. Looks like cliffs through glasses!"