"Then, assuming the altitude to be one thousand feet, your horizon would be approximately forty-two miles off," remarked Mr. McKay. "Well, in that case we are not likely to be troubled by our neighbours, for the nearest island cannot be less than fifty miles away. Did you find any signs of the island having been inhabited?"
"Yes," replied Andy, "we found this," and opening a leather sling case he produced a pistol. It was a quaint specimen of a flint-lock weapon, its large-bore barrel eaten with rust and its silver-mounted walnut stock pitted and rotted by exposure.
"I don't think the gentleman who dropped this article is in a fit state to call upon us," observed Mr. McKay. "Nevertheless, it shows that we are not the first civilised people to set foot on the island. What is the interior like?"
"There are distinct signs of a volcano about. The top of the hill is most certainly an extinct volcano, while the base is honeycombed with fissures like the volcano of Monotombo. Otherwise the island is well wooded."
"You've done well," commented Mr. McKay. "Now it's nearly sunset, so there will be just time to hoist the Union Jack."
"Finished it, then, pater?"
"Rather! Now, Andy, you hoist the emblem of empire!"
Amid the cheers of the band of Britishers the ensign was broken at the masthead. For a few minutes it fluttered idly in the breeze, then, as the sun sank beneath the horizon, the Jack was slowly lowered.
They had asserted the King's authority over the island to which they had now given the name of McKay's Island.