But, suddenly, Dick Sand in turn stretched out his hand.

"Yes! yes! land!" said he.

A kind of summit had just appeared in an opening in the fog. His
sailor's eyes could not deceive him.

"At last!" cried he; "at last!"

He clang feverishly to the netting. Mrs. Weldon, sustained by Hercules,
continued to watch that land almost despaired of.

The coast, formed by that high summit, rose at a distance of ten miles
to leeward.

The opening being completely made in a breaking of the clouds, they saw
it again more distinctly. Doubtless it was some promontory of the
American continent. The "Pilgrim," without sails, was not in a
condition to head toward it, but it could not fail to make the land
there.

That could be only a question of a few hours. Now, it was eight o'clock
in the morning. Then, very certainly, before noon the "Pilgrim" would
be near the land.

At a sign from Dick Sand, Hercules led Mrs. Weldon aft again, for she
could not bear up against the violence of the pitching.

The novice remained forward for another instant, then he returned to
the helm, near old Tom.