Now and again the professor would consult her about some special characteristic of the South Coral Sea,
and she would reply in her melodious Hula dialect, which he alone could understand.
The purpose of the expedition was to discover what caused the Travelling Tornado
and, if possible, make the sea safe for other ships by putting an end to it.
So far, however, there had been no sign of the tornado and all was quiet.
Quite suddenly, the captain's thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the lookout in the crow's-nest.
“Captain!” he called down, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Unless I'm crazy, there's a glass island dead ahead of us!”
The captain and Jim Ironside promptly levelled their telescopes.
Professor Eisenstein and his two assistants hurried up, bursting with curiosity, but the beautiful native girl calmly remained seated.
The peculiar customs of her tribe forbade her to seem inquisitive.
When they reached the glass island, as they very soon did, the professor scrambled down a rope ladder and gingerly stepped ashore.
The surface was not only transparent but so slippery that he found it hard to keep his footing.
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