“If it has made you resolve to reform, it will not have been wasted,” said Jack. And he then told Thurman something about themselves. Captain Sparhawk promised that as soon as Thurman was stronger he would find a job for him, for the boys’ old enemy was penniless, having left his wallet behind him in his haste at fleeing from the sinking schooner.
All that night the tempest raged with unabated fury. At times it seemed as if the yacht must go to pieces, so sadly was she wrenched and buffeted by the giant combers. There was little sleep for any on board that night and the day broke wildly on a worried, harried-looking crew. Shortly before noon the foresail tore away from the bolt ropes, and split with a noise like the explosion of a cannon. This accident was almost immediately followed by a shout from the lookout.
This cry, ordinarily one hailed with delight by sailors, was not thus received on the _Sea Gypsy_. Captain Sparhawk had been unable to get an observation during the days of storm, and what with this, and the heavy lee drift made by the yacht, he had no idea of his whereabouts.
At the shout all hands clambered to points of vantage to see what islands they could be approaching. As the _Sea Gypsy_ rose dizzily on the top of a great wave Jack saw, with a flash of alarm, that they were headed straight for a large island dotted with tropical verdure and tall, wind-bent palms about which rocks bristled menacingly like hungry fangs awaiting to penetrate the _Sea Gypsy’s_ stout hull.
Critical moments followed. Captain Sparhawk navigated the _Sea Gypsy_ among the rocks with marvelous seamanship. Time and again a shout of dismay went up from the sailors as the yacht almost grazed some huge black rock or scraped a coral reef. But the passage was negotiated with safety, and finally the sea-battered yacht lay snug and safe in the lee of the island and all hands drew a long breath of relief.
“Let go the anchor,” came the command, and the cable roared out of the hawser holes with a savage shout, as if of joy, at the ship’s delivery.
“Where under the sun are we?” asked Mr. Jukes of Captain Sparhawk, as soon as these maneuvers had been completed.
“I have no more idea than you, sir,” was the reply. “But it looks to me as if this island must be one of the Pamatous.”