he asked. "Yes," replied Spilett. "All right!" said the seaman; "wait a
bit; Neb is well able to carry help to his master. If we venture into the
channel, we risk being carried into the open sea by the current, which is
running very strong; but, if I'm not wrong, it is ebbing. See, the tide is
going down over the sand. Let us have patience, and at low water it is
possible we may find a fordable passage." "You are right," replied the
reporter, "we will not separate more than we can help."

During this time Neb was struggling vigorously against the current. He
was crossing in an oblique direction. His black shoulders could be seen
emerging at each stroke. He was carried down very quickly, but he also made
way towards the shore. It took more than half an hour to cross from the
islet to the land, and he reached the shore several hundred feet from the
place which was opposite to the point from which he had started.

Landing at the foot of a high wall of granite, he shook himself
vigorously; and then, setting off running, soon disappeared behind a rocky
point, which projected to nearly the height of the northern extremity of
the islet.

Neb's companions had watched his daring attempt with painful anxiety, and
when he was out of sight, they fixed their attention on the land where
their hope of safety lay, while eating some shell-fish with which the sand
was strewn. It was a wretched repast, but still it was better than nothing.
The opposite coast formed one vast bay, terminating on the south by a very
sharp point, which was destitute of all vegetation, and was of a very wild
aspect. This point abutted on the shore in a grotesque outline of high
granite rocks. Towards the north, on the contrary, the bay widened, and a
more rounded coast appeared, trending from the southwest to the northeast,
and terminating in a slender cape. The distance between these two