It was not. It was the peak of Teneriffe towering out of the mist, to port, like the great pyramid from the sands of Egypt.

"There you are," quoth Steve.

"Exactly," said I, though what either of us meant I have no notion.

"In the meantime," suggested Peter the practical, "don't you think we might be getting on with it?"

On this point the master and the mate of the dream ship were agreed, and the voyage continued.

THE START ACROSS THE ATLANTIC

Visitations—pleasant, and the reverse

Chapter V headpiece

CHAPTER V