There was a flat stone deeply hollowed out by constant sharpening of the
said hatchet. There was a rustic seat, the handiwork of Billy, that
bore symptoms of having been much sat upon. There were sundry
footpaths, radiating into the woods, that were beginning to assume the
hardness and dimensions of respectable roads; while all round the place
there were signs and symptoms of the busy hand of man having been at
work there for years.

High up, on a mighty cliff that overlooked and almost overhung the sea,
a rude flagstaff had been raised. This was among the first pieces of
work that Gaff and his son had engaged in after landing. It stood on
what they termed Signal Cliff, and was meant to attract the attention of
any vessel that might chance to pass.

To Signal Cliff did Gaff and Billy repair each morning at daylight, as
regularly as clockwork, to hoist their flag, made from cocoa-nut fibre;
and, with equal regularity, did Billy go each night at sunset to haul
the ensign down.

Many an anxious hour did they spend there together, gazing wistfully at
the horizon, and thinking, if not talking, of home. But ships seldom
visited that sea. Twice only, during their exile, did they at long
intervals descry a sail, but on both occasions their flag failed to
attract attention, and the hopes which had suddenly burst up with a
fierce flame in their breasts were doomed to sink again in
disappointment.

At first they had many false alarms, and frequently mistook a sea-gull
in the distance for a sail; but such mistakes became less frequent as
their hopes became less sanguine, and their perceptions, from practice,
more acute. Sometimes they sat there for hours together. Sometimes,
when busy with household arrangements, or equipped for fishing and
hunting, they merely ran to hoist the flag; but never once did they fail
to pay Signal Cliff a daily visit.

On Sundays, in particular, they were wont to spend the greater part of
their time there, reading the New Testament.

It happened that, just before Gaff left Cove in the sloop of Haco
Barepoles, Lizzie Gordon had presented him with a Testament. Being a
seriously-minded man, he had received the gift with gratitude, and
carried it to sea with him. Afterwards, when he and poor Billy were
enduring the miseries of the voyage in the whale-ship, Gaff got out the
Testament, and, aided by Billy, tried to spell it out, and seek for
consolation in it. He thus got into a habit of c