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Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael), 1825-1894

"The Coral Island A Tale of the Pacific Ocean"

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 thrust our little
boat without its being dashed to pieces.
"Show a little bit more sail," cried Jack, as we swept past the weather
side of the rock with fearful speed.
"Ay, ay," answered Peterkin, hoisting about a foot more of our sail.
Little though the addition was, it caused the boat to lie over and
creak so loudly as we cleft the foaming waves, that I expected to be
upset every instant; and I blamed Jack in my heart for his rashness.
But I did him injustice, for although, during two seconds the water
rushed inboard in a torrent, he succeeded in steering us sharply round
to the leeward side of the rock, where the water was comparatively calm
and the force of the breeze broken.
"Out your oars now, lads! that's well done. Give way!" We obeyed
instantly. The oars splashed into the waves together. One good, hearty
pull, and we were floating in a comparatively calm creek that was so
narrow as to be barely able to admit our boat. Here we were in perfect
safety, and as we leaped on shore and fastened our cable to the rocks,
I thanked God in my heart for our deliverance from so great danger.


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