Landfall must have been expected, for Captain Nelson was on deck with his glass. He did not even ask the usual question, “Where away?” but went at once up the main rigging and searched the horizon on the lee bow. Presently he came down and spoke to the officer of the watch. “Well as she goes.” “Well as she goes,” the officer repeated; and repeated the order to the man at the wheel, who was within easy hearing of the captain. “Well as she goes,” said the man at the wheel, and kept her on her course. “What is it, Peter?” I asked. “Amsterdam?” Peter nodded. “Yes, lad.” We had passed St. Paul early in the night before. It would have been well out of sight, anyway. {265} Amsterdam soon rose within sight from the deck, and I went down and got my glass and left my precious model. I found a secluded spot where I should not be likely to be seen, and watched the island as we drew nearer. I saw steep slopes, densely wooded, rising from the sea to a great height, but nothing else was to be distinguished, even when we were pretty near. At last we had the island abeam, not over three miles away. I had the glass at my eyes, and was slowly sweeping over the surface, up and down, and to and fro. Nothing appeared but the green of the tops of trees or bushes, I could not tell which, but they looked like trees. As I moved the glass systematically, so that I could see the whole of the island and lose nothing, suddenly I came again to the sea; but there had seemed to be something like a little spot of color, and it fluttered. It had shown on the silhouette of the island, against the sky, and I could not be sure of the color. I had passed it by, and lost it, before it had impressed itself on my attention; but I hunted for it again, and I found it at last. The ship had advanced enough to show the green of tree-tops beyond the fluttering thing by the time I had found it again. I looked a long time before I could make out what it was, but I finally made it out. About halfway up the long slope a tree had been stripped of its upper branches, so that it made a tolerable pole. To this pole had been fastened a sailor’s common red woolen undershirt; that was what it was—what it had been. It had been there for a long time, for it showed but a faint trace of its color, and it had whipped to a rag in the winds. The instant I knew it for what it was, my heart jumped up into my throat, and I jumped up and raced aft. Captain Nelson listened to the brief tale which I poured out hurriedly, the words tumbling over each other in my eagerness. He nodded. “All right, Tim,” he said. “We ’re going in there, and we ’ll see what it means.” {266}