"Nothing," he answered, with a sinking heart; "nothing but water on all sides of us."
"The islands—they must be somewhere!" cried Tom, and he, too, took a look, followed by the others. The last to look was old Jerry.
"Can't see much," said the old sailor slowly. "But I kind of reckon there's a dark spot directly southward."
"It must be one of the islands the captain mentioned!" exclaimed Dora.
"We might as well row in that direction," said Dick. "There is nothing else to do."
"It's queer what became of the other boats," said Sam.
Some of the provisions were brought forth and they ate sparingly, and drank a little of the water. Then the boys and old Jerry took up the oars once more and began to pull as nearly southward as they could make it, steering by the sun.
When the sun grew higher it became very warm, so that the rowers were glad enough to lay aside their jackets. By noon they reckoned that they had covered six or eight miles. One after another stood up on the seats to take a look around.
"Nothing in sight yet," said Dick, with a sorry shake of his head.
"We must have been mistaken in that dark spot."
"What will you do now?" asked Grace. "The hot sun is beginning to make my head ache."