This idea was forced very strongly upon us because we saw nothing in the direction whither the wind was blowing us save the raging billows of the sea; and, indeed, we trembled as we gazed around us, for we were now beyond the shelter of the islands, and it seemed as though any of the huge billows, which curled over in masses of foam, might swallow us up in a moment. The water, also, began to wash in over our sides, and I had to keep constantly baling, for Jack could not quit the helm nor Peterkin the sail for an instant, without endangering our lives. In the midst of this distress Jack uttered an exclamation of hope, and pointed towards a low island or rock which lay directly ahead. It had been hitherto unobserved, owing to the dark clouds that obscured the sky and the blinding spray that seemed to fill the whole atmosphere.
As we neared this rock we observed that it was quite destitute of trees and verdure, and so low that the sea broke completely over it. In fact it was nothing more than the summit of one of the coral formations, which rose only a few feet above the level of the water, and was, in stormy weather, all but invisible. Over this island the waves were breaking in the utmost fury, and our hearts sank within us as we saw that there was not a spot where we could thrust our little boat without its being dashed to pieces.
“Show a little bit more sail,” cried Jack, as we swept past the weather side of the rock with fearful speed.
“Ay, ay,” answered Peterkin, hoisting about a foot more of our sail.
Little though the addition was it caused the boat to lie over and creak so loudly, as we cleft the foaming waves, that I expected to be upset every instant; and I blamed Jack in my heart for his rashness. But I did him injustice, for, although during two seconds the water rushed inboard in a torrent, he succeeded in steering us sharply round to the leeward side of the rock, where the water was comparatively calm, and the force of the breeze broken.
“Out your oars now, lads; that’s well done. Give way!” We obeyed instantly. The oars splashed into the waves together. One good hearty pull, and we were floating in a comparatively calm creek that was so narrow as to be barely able to admit our boat. Here we were in perfect safety, and, as we leaped on shore and fastened our cable to the rocks, I thanked God in my heart for our deliverance from so great danger. But, although I have said we were now in safety, I suspect that few of my readers would have envied our position. It is true we had no lack of food, but we were drenched to the skin; the sea was foaming round us and the spray flying over our heads, so that we were completely enveloped, as it were, in water; the spot on which we had landed was not more than twelve yards in diameter, and from this spot we could not move without the risk of being swept away by the storm. At the upper end of the creek was a small hollow or cave in the rock, which sheltered us from the fury of the winds and waves; and as the rock extended in a sort of ledge over our heads, it prevented the spray from falling upon us.
“Why,” said Peterkin, beginning to feel cheery again, “it seems to me that we have got into a mermaid’s cave, for there is nothing but water all round us; and as for earth or sky, they are things of the past.”
Peterkin’s idea was not inappropriate, for, what with the sea roaring in white foam up to our very feet, and the spray flying in white sheets continually over our heads, and the water dripping heavily from the ledge above like a curtain in front of our cave, it did seem to us very much more like being below than above water.
“Now, boys,” cried Jack, “bestir yourselves, and let’s make ourselves comfortable. Toss out our provisions, Peterkin; and here, Ralph, lend a hand to haul up the boat. Look sharp.”
“Ay, ay, captain,” we cried, as we hastened to obey, much cheered by the hearty manner of our comrade.
Fortunately the cave, although not very deep, was quite dry, so that we succeeded in making ourselves much more comfortable than could have been expected. We landed our provisions, wrung the water out of our garments, spread our sail below us for a carpet, and, after having eaten a hearty meal, began to feel quite cheerful. But as night drew on, our spirits sank again, for with the daylight all evidence of our security vanished away. We could no longer see the firm rock on which we lay, while we were stunned with the violence of the tempest that raged around us. The night grew pitchy dark, as it advanced, so that we could not see our hands when we held them up before our eyes, and were obliged to feel each other occasionally to make sure that we
