In the midst of the general barrenness and aridity, the verdant oasis
of the ravine appeared to be the most certain place to look for the
castaways. Lord James fancied that he could discern a slight haze of
smoke rising out of the cleft beneath the baobab. But if there was a
camp in the cleft bottom, it was hidden from view by the trees and
cliff walls. The only certain sign of man within sight was the signal
flag and the smoke of the smouldering fire in the midst of the seabird
colony near the outer end of the cliff crest.

The steamer was gliding along, with slackened headway, close in under
the headland, when a breath of air opened out the folds of the
tattered white flag. Meggs had been watching it through his
binoculars. He lowered the glasses, and remarked knowingly: "Thought
so. That's no ship's canvas. It's linen or duck--A woman's skirt
ripped open."

"What! Then at least one of the women got ashore!"

"Aye. But d' you make out how that cloth is lashed to the bamboo? It
was knotted on by a landsman. We'll find neither officers nor crew
among the survivors."

The steamer was now opposite the face of the headland, Meggs sprang
into the pilot house. Within the next few moments the speed of the
vessel fell off to less than a knot. Slowly the old steamer swung her
bows around towards the shore and began feeling her way into a narrow
gap through the half hidden barrier of the reefs, which here were
merged into a single line.

For the time being all the attention of Meggs was concentrated upon