"I see nothing for it, young men, except put about and just run back for them same islands," said Silas.
"And beach her?"
"Aye, aye, but look you here, Frank," continued Silas. "I've no great inclination to be crucified alive, and eaten afterwards. I'd rather drown, and be done with it. So we better beach her at the little island to the nor'ard. There is only one landing, and we can hold that again' all the savages in creation."
The skipper's advice was certainly good. So the Island Queen was put about.
It was sad, disheartening work, but there was no other chance of life, so Fred never uttered one single complaining word, and "Heigho!" was all that Frank said.
Towards sundown the savages in Ota's isle must have been considerably surprised to see the white man's little ship standing in again towards the land. But she disappeared all at once, and in all probability they imagined she had sunk with all hands.
The fact is the Island Queen had got in behind the island, and was now in comparatively calm water. But the poor wee ship that our castaways had been so proud of was settling down fast.
It was an anxious half hour.
Every minute they expected she would take the fatal plunge, and the boat was all ready on deck to launch, if indeed they were not sucked down with the yacht. The land had almost taken the wind out of their sails.
But at long last the clear sandy bottom became visible all around them, and a big rolling wave carried them far up on the beach, receded, and left them almost high and dry.