Captain Jeremy was already up and about, and was holding the chart in his hand, for we were on the point of passing over shoal water, though no rocks reared their heads above the sea.
The leadsman was in the chains, his voice being heard with monotonous regularity--"By the mark five"[1]; and the anchor was already uncatted and hung ready to let go at the first sign of danger.
Astern the Neptune was wallowing slowly in our wake, under reduced canvas.
Gradually the island loomed nearer and nearer, till we could distinguish a saddle-shaped hill, covered with dense vegetation, descending steeply on its northern face, while its southern portion seemed to end in a long, flat plain. At first sight there appeared no break in the encircling ridge of white sand 'gainst which the breakers flung themselves in cascades of milk-white foam, the noise of which was borne to our ears like the distant roll of drums.
"By the deep four," shouted the leadsman.
"Carry on," said Captain Jeremy calmly, though by his manner I knew 'twould be hazardous to question him. "Another man in the chains!"
"A quarter less four." The water was shoaling rapidly.
Still our Captain gave no sign to alter the brig's course, although an ominous pale green patch ahead and several others of a dark brown hue on either side of us betokened the presence of dangerous sandbanks and rocks. His eyes were intently fixed on a rocky pinnacle which was slowly coming into line with a distant island.
"Hard a larboard!"
Round swept the Golden Hope, heeling over to the beam wind as it caught her retrimmed sails. We were now shaping a course parallel to the eastern side of the island, while the Neptune, turning in our wake, had also succeeded in negotiating the unseen channel.