"Don't—don't hurt me!" groaned Bob. "Oh!"
A moment later came another shock. Then the rowboat appeared to slide over a sand bar, and of a sudden Captain Broadbeam felt the limb of a tree brush his side.
"Hullo! what's this?" he ejaculated. "A tree limb—and here's another! Can it be a floating tree——"
"Hurrah! Here's land!" burst out Dave, peering into the darkness. "A shore of some kind."
"Beware of the savages," cautioned Doctor Barrell. "They may be close at hand."
"I'd rather meet the savages than drown in this storm," came bluntly from Captain Broadbeam.
The rowboat had indeed drifted to some sort of a shore. Close at hand was a sandy beach, and beside this some rocks and a grove of tropical trees. The details of the scene were lost in the darkness.
As the rowboat struck on the beach the captain leaped out and hauled the craft up. But he was not quick enough to escape the breakers and one swept over the craft, nearly drowning all on board. Then Dave sprang out, and at last the pair had the boat out of the reach of the sea.
"Thank Heaven we have landed somewhere," declared the youth. "I thought sure we were bound for Davy Jones's locker."
The rowboat was dragged along the beach and the captain, the doctor, and Dave succeeded in turning it over on some rocks, thus making of it a sort of shelter from the storm. Under it they placed Bob and the Irishman, making them as comfortable as circumstances permitted. This done, the three found something of a shelter under the trees and there sank down to rest until morning.