The buoy, or whatever object it was, could be readily distinguished.

It certainly did look like one of those buoys used to mark out the channel that ships follow when entering a harbor.

But as the vessel slowly approached it, a small flag, flapping in the dying wind--a strange feature in a buoy--was seen to surmount its cone, which a nearer approach showed to be emerging four or five feet from the water.

And for a buoy too it was exceedingly bright and shiny, reflecting the red rays of the setting sun as strongly as if its surface was crystal or polished metal! "Call Mr.Marston on deck at once!" cried the Captain, his voice betraying unwonted excitement as he put the glass again to his eye.
Marston, thoroughly worn out by his incessant anxiety during the day, had been just carried below by his friends, and they were now trying to make him take a little refreshment and repose.

But the Captain's order brought them all on deck like a flash.
They found the whole crew gazing in one direction, and, though speaking in little more than whispers, evidently in a state of extraordinary excitement.
What could all this mean?
Was there any ground for hope?
The thought sent a pang of delight through Marston's wildly beating heart that almost choked him.
The Captain beckoned to the Club men to take a place on the bridge beside himself.