Being always on the alert for
squalls, I ran to the bow. There could be no doubt it was a squall, and
as I listened I thought I heard the murmur of the coming gale.
Instantly I began to work might and main at my cumbrous tackle for
shortening sail, and in the course of an hour and a half had the most
of it reduced--the top-sail yards down on the caps, the top-sails
clewed up, the sheets hauled in, the main and fore peaks lowered, and
the flying-jib down. While thus engaged the dawn advanced, and I cast
an occasional furtive glance ahead in the midst of my labour. But now
that things were prepared for the worst, I ran forward again and looked
anxiously over the bow. I now heard the roar of the waves distinctly,
and as a single ray of the rising sun gleamed over the ocean I saw
--what! could it be that I was dreaming?--that magnificent breaker with
its ceaseless roar!--that mountain top!--yes, once more I beheld the
Coral Island!
Chapter XXIX
The effect of a cannon-shot--A happy reunion of a somewhat
moist nature--Retrospect and explanations--An awful dive--New plans
--The last of the Coral Island.
I almost fell upon the deck with the tumult of mingled emotions that
filled my heart as I gazed ardently towards my beautiful island. It was
still many miles away, but sufficiently near to enable me to trace
distinctly the well-remembered outlines of the two mountains. My first
impulse was to utter an exclamation of gratitude for being carried to
my former happy home in safety; my second, to jump up, clap my hands,
shout, and run up and down the deck, with no other object in view than
that of giving vent to my excited feelings.
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