Peterkin and I had the sail down in a moment, so that it did not
upset us; but, when it was past, we were more than half full of
water. This I soon baled out, while Peterkin again hoisted a
corner of the sail; but the evil which Jack had feared came upon
us. We found it quite impossible to make Penguin Island. The gale
carried us quickly past it towards the open sea, and the terrible
truth flashed upon us that we should be swept out and left to
perish miserably in a small boat in the midst of the wide ocean.

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