water, and at length we could see them from the deck, while the white line of surf breaking on the reef became more and more distinct. At the same time a slowly moving, at first scarcely perceptible swell, which Fanny called the breathing of the ocean, passed ever and anon under the vessel, lifting her so gently that the sails remained as motionless as before. It was difficult indeed to discover that there was any movement in the mirror-like surface of the deep, and yet we could feel the deck rise and fall under our feet. The awning was rigged, and Mary and Fanny were seated in their easy-chairs under it, Mary reading aloud while her sister worked. Nat, who had placed himself near them, cross-legged on a grating, to listen, with a marline-spike and a piece of rope, was practising the art of splicing, in which he had made fair progress. “I say, Ned, I wish you would show me how to work a Turk’s head,” he exclaimed.

I went to him and did as he asked me. This made Mary stop reading; and Fanny, looking out towards the island, remarked, “How near we are getting. I am so glad, for I want to see a real coral island, and that of course is one. I suppose we shall anchor when we get close to it, and be able to go on shore.” Harry, who overheard her, made no reply, but looked unusually grave, and told me to bring the chart from below. Spreading it out on the companion-hatch, we again, for the third or fourth time, gave a careful look at it.

“I cannot understand the set of this current,” he said. “It probably sweeps round the island. But we are being carried much closer than I like to be in so perfect a calm. If we get a breeze it will be all right, but—”

Just then the sails gave several loud flaps, as if some one had shaken them out, and the schooner rolled now to one side, now to the other. Her head had moved so as to bring the swell abeam. Once having begun, she went on making the same unpleasant movements. It was evident that the swell had increased.

“Is there no way to stop her from doing that?” asked Mary.

“Not till the wind fills her sails,” answered Harry. “I hope, however, that we shall get a breeze before long.”

Harry did not say this in a very cheerful tone. He soon afterwards beckoned Tom Platt to him, and I saw them talking earnestly together for some minutes. I joined them. They were discussing the probable set of the current, which was at present sweeping us at the rate of at least three knots an hour towards the reef.

“We might keep her off it, at all events, until a breeze springs up,” remarked Tom.

“We’ll have the boats out, then, and do our best,” said my brother, and he gave the order “Out boats.”

We carried two boats on the davits, but as they were too light to be of much service, we hoisted out the long-boat, which was stowed amidships. We also lowered one of the gigs. The two boats were at once made fast to the tow-line. The men gave way, and the schooner’s head was kept off from the threatening reef, against which the sea was breaking with tremendous force. The men bent to their oars, for they knew the danger as well as we did.

We all watched the reef with anxious eyes. Should the vessel be driven against it, we should, in a few seconds, we well knew, be dashed to pieces; and, though we might escape in the boats before that catastrophe occurred, we should be left to make a long voyage before we could reach any civilised people. All around us were islands, most of them, we had reason to fear, inhabited by treacherous and blood-thirsty savages.

We, of course, did not express our anxiety to the ladies, who, however, I thought, began to suspect that the vessel was in danger, although they said nothing. The men had been pulling fully an hour against the current, and yet, as I looked at the reef, I could not help acknowledging to myself that the vessel was nearer than at first. The swell, at the same time, began to increase, and we could now hear the roar of the breakers as they dashed against the wall of coral which interrupted their progress.

“We’ll send the other boat ahead, Platt,” said my brother.

“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Tom; and he and I with the two remaining men lowered her, and, jumping in, joined our shipmates in towing, leaving only my brother with Dick and Nat to take charge of the vessel. He now ordered us to pull across the current, in the hopes of thus in time getting out of it. We all pulled away with a will, making the schooner move faster through the water than she had done for many hours.

“We must manage it somehow,” shouted Tom to the other boats. “Give way, lads—give way. We shall soon be clear of the current.”

It was of little use urging the men, as they were already straining every nerve. My brother walked the deck, stopping every now and then, casting his eyes frequently around the horizon in the hopes of discovering signs of a coming breeze. Then he would look towards the reef, but there was nothing encouraging to be seen in that direction. Still Tom shouted every now and then, “Pull away, lads—pull away!”

“We are pulling, mate, as hard as we can,” answered the men from the other boats.

If we had any doubts of it before it was now clear enough that an unusually strong current was setting us towards the reef, even faster than we could pull away from it. Whenever the men showed any signs of relaxing their efforts Harry came to the bows and cheered them on, leaving Dick to steer. It was somewhat trying work for all of us, for the hot sun was beating down on our heads, the perspiration streaming from every pore; but our lives depended upon our exertions, and pull we must to the last moment. I heard some of the men talking of going alongside the schooner and asking the captain for a glass of grog apiece.

“Don’t be thinking of that, lads,” cried Tom. “It would be so much precious time lost. We can pull well enough if we have the will. The grog would not give you any real strength, and you’d be as thirsty as before a few minutes afterwards. Can’t one of you strike up a tune, and see if that don’t help us along.”

There was no response to this appeal, so Tom himself at once began shouting a no very melodious ditty. First one man joined in, then another and another, until the whole of the boats’ crews were singing at the top of their voices. It appeared to me that the vessel was moving somewhat faster than before through the water, but looking towards the wall of foam that seemed no further off. Still we knew that our efforts were of use, as we thus considerably delayed the destruction which awaited our vessel should she once get within the power of the breakers. Hour after hour passed by. The swell had increased, and, combined with the current, made our task still more difficult, but Harry had too much at stake to let any consideration for our fatigue induce him to allow us to rest for a moment. “Pull on, lads, pull on,” he shouted. “We shall have the breeze before long, and we’ll not let the schooner be cast away.”

The roar of the breakers sounded in our ears between each dip of the oars. I looked round, but no sign of a breeze could I discover. My heart sank within me as I thought of how Harry must be feeling with the dear ones under his charge in so great a peril. As I again looked towards the reef it seemed that, since we could not tow the vessel off, no power could save her. I knew that the depth of water close up to these coral reefs is generally so great that there would not be a possibility of anchoring, nor did I see any opening through which we could pass and get into smooth water.

At last Harry shouted out, “Mr Platt, in the second gig, come alongside and help trim sails.” We at once obeyed him.

“What do you think we shall get out of that, Platt,” he asked, pointing to a small cloud which was seen rising