billow, we found ourselves floating placidly on the long oily swell
that rose and fell slowly as it rolled over the wide ocean.

Penguin Island lay on the other side of our own island, at about a
mile beyond the outer reef, and we calculated that it must be at
least twenty miles distant by the way we should have to go. We
might, indeed, have shortened the way by coasting round our island
inside of the lagoon, and going out at the passage in the reef
nearly opposite to Penguin Island, but we preferred to go by the
open sea; first, because it was more adventurous; and, secondly,
because we should have the pleasure of again feeling the motion of
the deep, which we all loved very much, not being liable to sea
sickness.

"I wish we had a breeze," said Jack.

"So do I," cried Peterkin, resting on his oar and wiping his heated
brow; "pulling is hard work. Oh dear, if we could only catch a
hundred or two of these gulls, tie them to the boat with long
strings, and make them fly as we want them, how capital it would
be!"

"Or bore a hole through a shark's tail, and reeve a rope through
it, eh?" remarked Jack. "But, I say, it seems that my wish is
going to be granted, for here comes a breeze. Ship your oar,
Peterkin. Up with the mast, Ralph; I'll see to the sail. Mind
your helm; look out for squalls!"

This last speech was caused by the sudden appearance of a dark blue
line on the horizon, which, in an incredibly short space of time,