Try as best he might he could not change its course. He was steadily
going out to sea. He gave himself up for lost. He reproached himself
for being so rash and foolhardy as to trust his fortunes in so frail
a craft. How dear at this time seemed the island to him! The wind which
he had depended on to help him at this point had died down so that
it was at the mercy of the current. He kept urging his boat to the
westward as much as possible, with all his strength, hoping that a
breeze would finally spring up.
He struggled on bravely until about noon. He had been carried out a
great distance into the sea, but not so far as to lose sight of the
land. All at once he felt the breeze freshening up. It caught his sail
and soon his boat was cutting across the current. He did not have to
go far before he was free from it and making headway for the island,
which he reached about four o'clock in the afternoon.
He found himself on the northern shore of the island, but before long
the shore ran away to the southward again. He ran briskly along the
west side until he found a little bay or cove. He determined to enter
this, draw up his boat on shore and make his way back home across the
island on foot. He was almost exhausted with his great labor and was
worn out with anxiety.
In the centre of the arms of the cove he found a little creek entering
the sea. He paddled into this and found a good place to hide his boat.
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