roll their broken crests against our small craft, so that she began
to take in water, and we had much ado to keep ourselves afloat. At
last the wind and sea together became so violent that we found it
impossible to make the island, so Jack suddenly put the head of the
boat round and ordered Peterkin and me to hoist a corner of the
sail, intending to run back to Penguin Island.

"We shall at least have the shelter of the bushes," he said, as the
boat flew before the wind, "and the penguins will keep us company."

As Jack spoke, the wind suddenly shifted, and blew so much against
us that we were forced to hoist more of the sail in order to beat
up for the island, being by this change thrown much to leeward of
it. What made matters worse was, that the gale came in squalls, so
that we were more than once nearly upset.

"Stand by, both of you," cried Jack, in a quick, earnest tone; "be
ready to dowse the sail. I very much fear we won't make the island
after all."

Peterkin and I were so much in the habit of trusting everything to
Jack that we had fallen into the way of not considering things,
especially such things as were under Jack's care. We had,
therefore, never doubted for a moment that all was going well, so
that it was with no little anxiety that we heard him make the above
remark. However, we had no time for question or surmise, for, at
the moment he spoke, a heavy squall was bearing down upon us, and,
as we were then flying with our lee gunwale dipping occasionally
under the waves, it was evident that we should have to lower our
sail altogether. In a few seconds the squall struck the boat, but