tually
asked; but if such there had ever been, he must, they concluded, either
have fled or have perished on that eventful night. Not a soul was there
in charge, and the sole living occupants were a flock of wild cormorants
which, startled at the entrance of the intruders, rose on wing, and took
a rapid flight towards the south.

An old French prayer-book was lying on the corner of the tomb; the
volume was open, and the page exposed to view was that which contained
the office for the celebration of the 25th of August. A sudden
revelation dashed across Servadac's mind. The solemn isolation of the
island tomb, the open breviary, the ritual of the ancient anniversary,
all combined to apprise him of the sanctity of the spot upon which he
stood.

"The tomb of St. Louis!" he exclaimed, and his companions involuntarily
followed his example, and made a reverential obeisance to the venerated
monument.

It was, in truth, the very spot on which tradition asserts that the
canonized monarch came to die, a spot to which for six centuries and
more his countrymen had paid the homage of a pious regard. The lamp
that had been kindled at the memorial shrine of a saint was now in all
probability the only beacon that threw a light across the waters of the
Mediterranean, and even this ere long must itself expire.

There was nothing more to explore. The three together quitted the
mosque, and descended the rock to the shore, whence their boat
re-conveyed them to the schooner, which was soon again on her southward
voyage; and it was not long before the tomb of St. Louis, the only spot
that had survived the mysterious shock, was lost to view.

CHAPTER XII. AT THE MERCY OF THE WINDS

As the affrighted cormorants had winged their flight towards the south,
there sprang up a sanguine hope on board the schooner that land might be
discovered in that direction. Thither, accordingly, it was determined to
proceed, and in a few hours after quitting the island of the tomb,
the _Dobryna_ was traversing the shallow waters that now covered the
peninsula of Dakhul, which had separated the Bay of Tunis from the Gulf
of Hammamet. For two days she continued an undeviating course, and
after a futile search for the coast of Tunis, reached the latitude of 34
degrees.

Here, on the 11th of February, there suddenly arose the cry of "Land!"
and in the extreme horizon, right ahead, where land had never been
before, it was true enough that a shore was distin