closely
set, and his expression, though painfully eager, was not otherwise
displeasing. There was none of the fear of death there; nor was there
anything of the passionless resignation of the man who has bidden
farewell to life, and made his peace with God and man; nor, in
those moments of watching, had his face any of the physical signs of
approaching death.

"Ah!"

They started at the sharp, almost triumphant exclamation which had
escaped from his white lips, and followed his long, quivering finger.
Above that glimmering light was a faint, dim line of smoke, fading on
the horizon.

"It is a steamer, indeed," the priest said, with some interest. "She
is making for the island."

"When is the supply boat due?" Gomez asked.

"Not for a fortnight," the priest answered; "it is not she, it is a
stranger."

There was no other word spoken. Soon the dawn, moving across the great
waste of waters, pierced the dark background behind the steamer's
light. The long trail of white, curdling foam in her track gleamed
like a silver cleft in a dark gulf. The dim shape of her sails stole
slowly into sight, and they could see that she was carrying a great
weight of canvas. Then into the grey air, a rocket shot up like a
brilliant meteor, and the sound of a gun came booming over the waters.

"Can she make the bay?" Gomez asked suddenly. "Look at the surf."

They all removed their eyes from the steamer, and fixed them nearer
home. The darkness had rolled away, and the outlook, though a little
uncertain in the misty morning light, was still visible. Right before
the window, a little to the left, a great rocky hill, many hundreds
of feet high, ran sheer down into the sea, and facing it on the right,
was a lower range of rocks running out from the mainland. Inside the
natural harbour thus formed, the sea was quiet enough; but at the
entrance, a line of white breakers and huge ocean waves were leaping
up against the base of the promontory, and dashing over the lower
range of rocks. Beyond, the sea was wild and rough, and the steamer
was often almost lost to sight in the hollow of the Waves.

"Ah!"

The faces of all three men underwent a sudden change. Three rockets,
one after another, shot up into the sky from the top of the rocky
hill, leaving a faint, violet glow overhead. The dying man set his
teeth hard, and his eyes glistened.

"Three rockets," he muttered. "What is the meaning of that signal,
Father?" he asked.

The prie