them, undecided.

The sky shaded down at the sea level to the white of opals; the sea
itself, insolently, inkily blue, drew all about them the uncompromising
wheel of the horizon. Search it as they pleased, not even the practisect
eye of Captain Davis could descry the smallest interruption. A few filmy
clouds were slowly melting overhead; and about the schooner, as around
the only point of interest, a tropic bird, white as a snowflake, hung,
and circled, and displayed, as it turned, the long vermilion feather of
its tall. Save the sea and the heaven, that was all.

'Who sang out land?' asked Davis. 'If there's any boy playing funny dog
with me, I'll teach him skylarking!'

But Uncle Ned contentedly pointed to a part of the horizon, where a
greenish, filmy iridescence could be discerned floating like smoke on
the pale heavens.

Davis applied his glass to it, and then looked at the Kanaka. 'Call that
land?' said he. 'Well, it's more than I do.'

'One time long ago,' said Uncle Ned, 'I see Anaa all-e-same that, four
five hours befo' we come up. Capena he say sun go down, sun go up again;
he say lagoon all-e-same milla.'

'All-e-same WHAT?' asked Davis.

'Milla, sah,' said Uncle Ned.

'Oh, ah! mirror,' said Davis. 'I see; reflection from the lagoon. Well,
you know, it is just possible, though it's strange I never heard of it.
Here, let's look at the chart.'

They went back to the cabin, and found the position of the schooner well
to windward of the archipelago in the midst of a white field of paper.

'There! you see for yourselves,' said Davis.

'And yet I don't know,' said Herrick, 'I somehow think there's something
in it. I'll tell you one thing too, captain; that's all right about the
reflection; I heard it in Papeete.'

'Fetch up that Findlay, then!' said Davis. 'I'll try it all ways. An
island wouldn't come amiss, the way we're fixed.'

The bulky volume was handed up to him, broken-backed as is the way with
Findlay; and he turned to the place and began to run over the text,
muttering to himself and turning over the pages with a wetted finger.

'Hullo!' he exclaimed. 'How's this?' And he read aloud. 'New Island.
According to M. Delille this island, which from private interests would
remain unknown, lies, it is said, in lat. 12 degrees 49' 10" S. long.
113 degrees 6' W. In addition to the position above given Commander
Matthews, H.M.S. Scorpion, states that an island exists in lat. 12
degrees 0' S. long.