Suddenly Sam Randall uttered an exclamation. "Land! As I live, land ho!" he cried.
"Land?" echoed the others, in chorus.
"Your peepers must be pretty good," exclaimed Hackett; "where? I don't see anything."
"That's because you're not looking in the right direction."
"I see it!" cried Bob.
"So do I."
"And I," repeated each, in turn.
Barely perceptible, to the left, through the fog, rose a rounded, tree-covered hill.
"I knew you changed your course, Wingate," said Bob, dryly. "Where have you been heading for?"
Turning, Nat held up the compass, then passed it back to its owner, remarking: "You fellows certainly are green. I've piloted the 'Nimrod' clear across the bay."