Meggs shook his head reassuringly. "The top of the headland may be inaccessible, m'lord. We may find that they—Heh! what's that?"
He leaned forward to peer through his glasses at a second headland that was swinging into view around the corner of the cliffs.
"Smoke!" he cried. "Smoke!—and a flag!"
"Gad!" murmured Lord James, hastily bringing his own glasses to bear.
The second headland was about five miles away. The thin column of smoke that was ascending from its crest near the outer end, could plainly be seen with the naked eye. But a sunlit cloud beyond necessitated the full magnifying power of the binoculars to disclose the white signal flag that flapped lazily on a slender staff near the beacon.
Lord James drew in a deep breath, and his gray eyes glowed with hope. Here was evidence that not all aboard the wrecked or foundered Impala had been lost.
"Meggs," he cried, "you're the one and only skipper! It must be their signal—it is their signal! But which of them?—who went under and who escaped!—Miss Genevieve? Tom?"
"This Mr. Blake?" ventured Meggs. "I take it, he's some relation to your lordship."
"No; chum—American engineer. Gad! if he went down! But it's impossible—Most resourceful man I ever knew. He must have won ashore with the others. And the women—a British captain! It must be we'll find crew and all safe!"
"Not on this coast," replied Meggs. "They'd have lost most their boats before the Impala struck."