course which he was trying to take. At last the full possession of his
senses was restored, and following the ship no longer, he turned toward
the direction where that sand island lay which had been the cause of his
disaster. At first it was hidden from view by the swell of waves that
rose in front, but soon rising upon the crest of one of these he
perceived far away the dark form of the coffin-shaped rock. Here then
before him lay the island, and toward this both wind and wave impelled
him.

But the rock was far to the right, and it might be that the island did
not extend far enough to meet him as he neared it. It was about five
miles in length, but in his efforts he might not be able to reach even
the western extremity. Still there was nothing else to do but to try.
Resolutely, therefore, though half despairingly, he put forth his best
strength, and struggled manfully to win the shore.

That lone and barren sand-bank, after all, offered but a feeble chance
for life. Even if he did reach it, which was doubtful, what could he do?
Starvation instead of drowning would be his fate. More than once it
occurred to him that it would be better then and there to give up all
efforts and let himself go. But then there came the thought of those
dear ones who waited for him in England, the thought of the villain who
had thrown him from the ship, and the greater villain who had sent him
out on his murderous errand. He could not bear the idea that they should
triumph over him so easily and so quickly. His vengeance should not be
taken from him; it had been baffled, but it still nerved his arm.

A half hour's struggle, which seemed like many hours, had brought him
much nearer to the island, but his strength was almost exhausted. His
clothes, caught in the rush of the waves, and clinging to him, confined