Wednesday the Tenth, A Tale of the South Pacific - Grant Allen - Bog

On the eighteenth day out from Sydney, we were cruising under the lee of Erromanga-of course you know Erromanga, an isolated island between the New Hebrides and the Loyalty group-when suddenly our dusky Polynesian boy, Nassaline, who was at the masthead on the lookout, gave a surprised cry of "Boat ahoy!" and pointed with his skinny black finger to a dark dot away southward on the horizon, in the direction of Fiji.