The night passed away. Towards five o'clock in the morning of the 25th of
March, the sky began to lighten; the horizon still remained dark, but with
daybreak a thick mist rose from the sea, so that the eye could scarcely
penetrate beyond twenty feet or so from where they stood. At length the fog
gradually unrolled itself in great heavily moving waves.

It was unfortunate, however, that the castaways could distinguish nothing
around them. While the gaze of the reporter and Neb were cast upon the
ocean, the sailor and Herbert looked eagerly for the coast in the west. But
not a speck of land was visible. "Never mind," said Pencroft, "though I do
not see the land, I feel it... it is there... there... as sure as the fact
that we are no longer at Richmond." But the fog was not long in rising. it
was only a fine-weather mist. A hot sun soon penetrated to the surface of
the island. About half-past six, three-quarters of an hour after sunrise,
the mist became more transparent. It grew thicker above, but cleared away
below. Soon the isle appeared as if it had descended from a cloud, then the
sea showed itself around them, spreading far away towards the east, but
bounded on the west by an abrupt and precipitous coast.

Yes! the land was there. Their safety was at least provisionally insured.
The islet and the coast were separated by a channel about half a mile in
breadth, through which rushed an extremely rapid current.

However, one of the castaways, following the impulse of his heart,
immediately threw himself into the current, without consulting his
companions, without saying a single word. It was Neb. He was in haste to be
on the other side, and to climb towards the north. It had been impossible
to hold him back. Pencroft called him in vain. The reporter prepared to
follow him, but Pencroft stopped him. "Do you want to cross the channel?"