The anxiety of the two explorers will readily be imagined. They again crouched down in their hole, doubting whether it would not perhaps be prudent to leave even this shelter, for they felt the sand giving way beneath them, and the pines cracking at their very roots. They persevered, however, in gazing towards the south, every nerve strained to the utmost, in the effort to distinguish objects through the darkness. The first grey twilight of the dawn might soon be expected to appear, and a little before half-past two A.M. Long suddenly exclaimed: “I see it!” “What?” “A fire!” “A fire?” “Yes, there—over there!” And he pointed to the south-west. Was he mistaken? No, for Hobson also made out a faint glimmer in the direction indicated. “Yes!” he cried, “yes, Sergeant, a fire; there is land there!” “Unless it is a fire on board ship,” replied Long. “A ship at sea in this weather!” exclaimed Hobson, “impossible! No, no, there is land there, land I tell you, a few miles from us!” “Well, let us make a signal!” “Yes, Sergeant, we will reply to the fire on the mainland by a fire on our island!” Of course neither Hobson nor Long had a torch, but above their heads rose resinous pines distorted by the hurricane. “Your flint, Sergeant,” said Hobson. Long at once struck his flint, lighted the touchwood, and creeping along the sand climbed to the foot of the thicket of firs, where he was soon joined by the Lieutenant. There was plenty of deadwood about, and they piled it up at the stems of the trees, set fire to it, and soon, the wind helping them, they had the satisfaction of seeing the whole thicket in a blaze “Ah!” said Hobson, “as we saw their fire, they will see ours!” The firs burnt with a lurid glare like a large torch. The dried resin in the old trunks aided the conflagration, and they were rapidly consumed. At last the crackling ceased, the flames died away, and all was darkness. Hobson and Long looked in vain for an answering fire—nothing was to be seen. For ten minutes they watched, hoping against hope, and were just beginning to despair, when suddenly a cry was heard, a distinct cry for help. It was a human voice, and it came from the sea. Hobson and Long, wild with eager anxiety, let themselves slide down to the shore. The cry was not, however, repeated. The daylight was now gradually beginning to appear, and the violence of the tempest seemed to be decreasing. Soon it was light enough for the horizon to be examined. But there was no land in sight, sea and sky were still blended in one unbroken circle. CHAPTER VIII. MRS. PAULINA BARNETT’S EXCURSION. The whole morning Hobson and Sergeant Long wandered about the coast. The weather was much improved, the rain had ceased, and the wind had veered round to the south-east with extraordinary suddenness, without unfortunately decreasing in violence, causing fresh anxiety to the Lieutenant, who could no longer hope to reach the mainland.