cannot see. In this direction their view is
bounded; a projection of the cliff interposing between them and the
outside shore. All who are able start off towards its summit. The
stronger ones rush up the gorge as if their lives depended on speed.
The weaker go toiling after. One or two, weaker still, stay below to
wait the report that will soon reach them.

The first up, on clearing the scarp, have their eyes upon the Dutchman.
His behaviour might cause them surprise, if they could not account for
it. As said, the beacon is upon the higher of the two peaks, some two
hundred yards beyond the clift's brow. He is beside it, and apparently
beside himself. Dancing over the ground, he makes grotesque
gesticulations, tossing his arms about, and waving his hat overhead--all
the while shouting as if to some vessel close at hand--calling in rapid
repetition:

"Ship, Ahoy! Ahoy!"

Looking they can see no ship, nor craft of any kind. For a moment they
think him mad, and fear, after all, it may be a mistake. Certainly
there is no vessel near enough to be hailed.

But sending their eyes farther out, their fear gives place to joy almost
delirious. There _is_ a sail, and though leagues off, seeming but a
speck, their practised eyes tell them she is steering that way--running
coastwise. Keeping this course, she must come past the isle--within
sight of their signal, so long spread to no purpose.

Without staying to reflect farther, they strain on towards the summit,
where the staff is erected.

Harry Blew is the first to reach it; and clutching the telescope, jerks
it from the hands of the half-crazed Dutchman. Raising it to his eye,
he directs it on the distant sail--there keeping it more than a minute.
The others have meanwhile come up, and, clustering around, impatiently
question him.

"What is she? How's she standing?"

"A bit o' a barque," responds Blew. "And from what I can make out,
close huggin' the shore. I'll be better able to tell when she draws out
from that clump of cloud."

Gomez, standing by, appears eager to get hold of the glass; but Blew
seems unwilling to give it up. Still holding it at his eye, he says:

"See to that signal, mates! Spread the tarpaulin' to its full streetch.
Face it square, so's to _give_ 'em every chance of sightin' it."

Striker and Davis spring to the piece of tarred canvas; and grasping it,
one at each corner, draw out the creases, and hold as directed.

All the w