He came out in the full glare of day. Lord James had turned his back
to the sun. He was staring at the bank of white mist that, less than
two miles to westward, shrouded the swampy coast. Meggs had brought
out two pairs of binoculars, one of which he handed to his charterer.

"Your lordship sees," he remarked. "We're none too far out from the
reefs."

"Beastly mist!" complained Lord James, his handsome high-bred face
creased with impatience and anxiety. "D'you fancy we're anywhere near
the islet from which we put off last evening?"

"I've tried to hold our position, m'lord. But these Mozambique Channel
currents are so strong, and shift so with the tides, we may have been
either set back or ahead."

Already the bank of morning mist was beginning to break up and melt
away under the fervent rays of the sun. The young earl raised his
glasses and gazed southwards along the face of the dissolving curtain.
Through and between the ghostly wreaths and wisps of vapor he could
see the winged habitants of the swamps--flamingoes, cranes, pelicans,
ibises, storks, geese, all the countless tropical waterfowl--swimming
and wading about the reedy lagoons or circling up to fly to other
feeding grounds. Opposite the steamer the glasses showed with
startling distinctness a number of hideous crocodiles crawling out on
a slimy mudbank to bask in the sunshine. But nowhere could the
searcher discern a trace of man or of man's habitation.

"Gad! not a sign! Rotten luck!" he muttered.