About one o’clock in the day, however, looking casually seaward—­what was this that M. Peyron, to his great surprise, descried far away on the dim southern horizon?  A low black line, lying close to the water?  No, no; not a steamer!

Too prudent to excite the natives’ attention unnecessarily, the cautious Frenchman whispered, in the most commonplace voice on earth to Felix:  “Don’t look at once; and when you do look, mind you don’t exhibit any agitation in your tone or manner.  But what do you make that out to be—­that long black haze on the horizon to southward?”

Felix looked, disregarding the friendly injunction, at once.  At the same moment, Muriel turned her eyes quickly in the self-same direction.  Neither made the faintest sign of outer emotion; but Muriel clenched her white hands hard, till the nails dug into the palm, in her effort to restrain herself, as she murmured very low, in an agitated voice, “Un vapeur, un vapeur!”

“So I think,” M. Peyron answered, very low and calm.  “It is, indeed, a steamer!”

For three long hours those anxious souls waited and watched it draw nearer and nearer.  Slowly the natives, too, began to perceive the unaccustomed object.  As it drew abreast of the island, and the decisive moment arrived for prompt action, Felix rose in his place once more and cried aloud, “My people, I told you a ship, propelled by fire, would come from the far land across the sea to take us.  The ship has come; you can see for yourselves the thick black smoke that issues in huge puffs from the mouth of the monster.  Now, listen to me, and dare not to disobey me.  My word is law; let all men see to it.  I am going to send a message of fire from the sun to the great canoe that walks upon the water.  If any man ventures to stop me from doing it the people from the great canoe will land on this isle and take vengeance for his act, and kill with the thunder which the sailing gods carry ever about with them.”

By this time the island was alive with commotion.  Hundreds of natives, with their long hair falling unkempt about their keen brown faces, were gazing with open eyes at the big black ship that ploughed her way so fast against wind and tide over the surface of the waters.  Some of them shouted and gesticulated with panic fear; others seemed half inclined to waste no time on preparation or doubt, but to rush on at once, and immolate their captives before a rescue was possible.  But Felix, keeping ever his cool head undisturbed, stood on the dusty mound by Tu-Kila-Kila’s house, and taking in his hand the little mirror he had made from the match-box, flashed the light from the sun full in their eyes for a moment, to the astonishment and discomfiture of all those gaping savages.  Then he focussed it on the Australasian, across the surf and the waves, and with a throbbing heart began to make his last faint bid for life and freedom.

For four or five minutes he went flashing on, uncertain of the effect, whether they saw or saw not.  Then a cry from Muriel burst at once upon his ears.  She clasped her hands convulsively in an agony of joy.  “They see us!  They see us!”