“No,” said he, “no! it cannot be the ’Duncan’!”

“Look, Ayrton,” then said the engineer, “for it is necessary that we should know beforehand what to expect.”

Ayrton took the glass and pointed it in the direction indicated.  During some minutes he examined the horizon without moving, without uttering a word.  Then,—­

“It is indeed a vessel,” said he, “but I do not think she is the ‘Duncan.’”

“Why do you not think so?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“Because the ‘Duncan’ is a steam-yacht, and I cannot perceive any trace of smoke either above or near that vessel.”

“Perhaps she is simply sailing,” observed Pencroft.  “The wind is favorable for the direction which she appears to be taking, and she may be anxious to economize her coal, being so far from land.”

“It is possible that you may be right, Mr. Pencroft,” answered Ayrton, “and that the vessel has extinguished her fires.  We must wait until she is nearer, and then we shall soon know what to expect.”

So saying, Ayrton sat down in a corner of the room and remained silent.  The colonists again discussed the strange ship, but Ayrton took no part in the conversation.  All were in such a mood that they found it impossible to continue their work.  Gideon Spilett and Pencroft were particularly nervous, going, coming, not able to remain still in one place.  Herbert felt more curiosity.  Neb alone maintained his usual calm manner.  Was not his country that where his master was?  As to the engineer, he remained plunged in deep thought, and in his heart feared rather than desired the arrival of the ship.  In the meanwhile, the vessel was a little nearer the island.  With the aid of the glass, it was ascertained that she was a brig, and not one of those Malay proas, which are generally used by the pirates of the Pacific.  It was, therefore, reasonable to believe that the engineer’s apprehensions would not be justified, and that the presence of this vessel in the vicinity of the island was fraught with no danger.

Pencroft, after a minute examination, was able positively to affirm that the vessel was rigged as a brig, and that she was standing obliquely towards the coast, on the starboard tack, under her topsails and top-gallant-sails.  This was confirmed by Ayrton.  But by continuing in this direction she must soon disappear behind Claw Cape, as the wind was from the southwest, and to watch her it would be then necessary to ascend the height of Washington Bay, near Port Balloon—­a provoking circumstance, for it was already five o’clock in the evening, and the twilight would soon make any observation extremely difficult.

“What shall we do when night comes on?” asked Gideon Spilett.  “Shall we light a fire, so as to signal our presence on the coast?”

This was a serious question, and yet, although the engineer still retained some of his presentiments, it was answered in the affirmative.  During the night the ship might disappear and leave for ever, and, this ship gone, would another ever return to the waters of Lincoln Island?  Who could foresee what the future would then have in store for the colonists?