Had the circumstances been different, the boys would have thoroughly enjoyed the exhilarating sport. But in their case, it was more business than sport that occupied their thoughts. If the distant speck which Jack believed was an island should prove to be an uninhabited one, their position would be about as bad as bad could be. They ate their last provisions for breakfast, and a sorry meal it made, and drank almost the last of their precious water, only leaving a small quantity for emergencies.
As they flew along it soon became evident that Jack’s surmise was a correct one. The distant land was an island, and upon it was something that at first puzzled them. This was what looked like a tall, leafless tree.
“I wonder what it is?” murmured Tom as they gazed at it.
“A royal palm, perhaps, with its top blown off in the last hurricane,” hazarded Jack.
But Tom suddenly burst into a joyous exclamation.
“Royal palm, nothing, Jack! It’s—it’s a lighthouse!”
“Hurray! Then the island is inhabited, and we are all right!” cried Jack, his relief showing in his glowing face.
“Hold on. Don’t go too fast,” counseled Tom, “we’re not there yet, you know.”
As if in answer to his words, at almost the same instant a big wave flopped over the bow of the boat. Jack, who was steering, had let the craft veer to a little, not being very skillful at steering with an oar, which he had to use, there being no rudder in the boat.
“Jiminy! Do you want to sink us?” remonstrated Tom, starting to bale out the water with the tin can in which they had brought their bait. This kept him busy so long that he had not much time to notice his surroundings, but presently, raising his head above the bulwarks, he was alarmed to see that the sea had increased in violence till it was really rough. The wind, too, was freshening and blowing harder every minute.