They saw the lighthouse, down the coast, looking rather like a white sea-gull asleep on the water. The light had been extinguished.
"I dare say Fogger will come for us before breakfast," Garth said. "I wish he wouldn't, except that I want something to eat. It'll take him ages to row out. Go up to that mountain-peak yonder, Ben, and take a look about with the spy-glass."
The spy-glass was an imaginary one, but the mountain existed, a higher shelf of rock too steep and rough for Garth to attempt. Joan sprang to the top and swept the horizon beneath a shading hand.
"Three-masted schooner out to sea, sir," she reported, "bearing Noothe by East. And what would you make this yere vessel out?" She indicated a single sail flitting far off at the mouth of the bay.
Garth got to his feet and looked down the coast.
"I make her out the Ailouros," he said promptly.
Joan's face shadowed instantly.
"Don't," she said; "it can't be. The Ailouros is gone, goodness knows where. It's some one from Quimpaug."
