The reporter slept during half the night, Herbert and Pencroff taking two-hour turns at the helm. The sailor had as much confidence in his pupil as he had in himself, and his trust was justified by the coolness and judgment of the lad. Pencroff set the course as a captain to his helmsman, and Herbert did not allow the Good Luck to deviate a point from her direction. The night and the next day passed quietly and safely. The Good Luck held her southeast course, and, unless she was drawn aside by some unknown current, she would make Tabor Island exactly. The sea was completely deserted, save that sometimes an albatross or frigate-bird passed within gun-shot distance. “And yet,” said Herbert, “this is the season when the whalers usually come towards the southern part of the Pacific. I don’t believe that there is a sea more deserted than this.” “It is not altogether deserted,” responded Pencroff. “What do you mean?” “Why we are here. Do you take us for porpoises or our sloop for driftwood?” And Pencroff laughed at his pleasantry. By evening they calculated the distance traversed at 130 miles, or three and a third miles an hour. The breeze was dying away, but they had reason to hope, supposing their course to have been correct, that they would sight Tabor Island at daylight. No one of the three slept during this night. While waiting for morning they experienced the liveliest emotions. There was so much uncertainty in their enterprise. Were they near the island? Was the shipwrecked man still there? Who was he? Might not his presence disturb the unity of the colony? Would he, indeed, consent to exchange one prison for another? All these questions, which would doubtless be answered the next day, kept them alert, and at the earliest dawn they began to scan the western horizon. What was the joy of the little crew when towards 6 o’clock Pencroff shouted— “Land!” In a few hours they would be upon its shore. The island was a low coast, raised but a little above the waves, not more than fifteen miles away. The sloop, which had been heading south of it, was put about, and, as the sun rose, a few elevations became visible here and there. “It is not as large as Lincoln Island,” said Herbert, “and probably owes its origin to like submarine convulsions.” By 11 o’clock the Good Luck was only two miles distant from shore, and Pencroff, while seeking some place to land, sailed with extreme caution through these unknown waters. They could see the whole extent of this island, on which were visible groups of gum and other large trees of the same species as those on Lincoln Island. But, it was astonishing, that no rising smoke indicated that the place was inhabited, nor was any signal visible upon the shore. Nevertheless the paper had been precise: it stated that there was a shipwrecked man here; and he should have been upon the watch.