The boat continued driving before the wind for some little time, until the mountain cliffs of Inaccessible Island gradually lost their contour.  They had become but a mere haze in the distance, when Eric, who had been intently gazing upward at the sky since Fritz’s last speech of alarm, and seemed buried in despondency, suddenly appeared to wake up into fresh life.

He had noticed the clouds being swept rapidly overhead in the same direction in which the boat was travelling; but, all at once, they now appeared to be stationary, or else, the waves must be bearing their frail little craft along faster than the wind’s speed.  What could this puzzling state of things mean?  Eric reflected a moment and then astonished Fritz as they both sat in the stern-sheets, by convulsively grasping his hand.

“The wind has turned, brother!” he cried out in a paroxysm of joy.

Fritz thought he was going mad.  “Why, my poor fellow, what’s the matter?” he said soothingly.

“Matter, eh?” shouted out Eric boisterously, wringing | his brother’s hand up and down.  “I mean that the wind has changed!  It is chopping round to the opposite | corner of the compass, like most gales in these latitudes, that’s what’s the matter!  See those clouds there?”

Fritz looked up to where the other pointed in the sky-to a spot near the zenith.

“Well,” continued the lad, “a moment ago those clouds there were whirling along the same course as ourselves.  Then, when I first called out to you, they stopped, as if uncertain what to do; while now, as you can notice for yourself, they seem to be impelled in the very opposite direction.  What do you think that means?”

Fritz was silent, only half convinced, for the send of the sea appeared to be rolling their unhappy boat further and further from the island, which, only a bare speck on the horizon, could be but very faintly seen astern, low down on the water.

“It means,” said Eric, answering his own question, without waiting longer for his brother’s reply, “that the same wind which bore us away from our dear little bay is about to waft us back again to it; still, we must look out sharply to help ourselves and not neglect a chance.  Oars out, old fellow!”

“But, it is impossible to row amidst these waves,” the other expostulated.

“Bah, nothing is impossible to brave men!” cried the sailor lad valiantly.  “I only want to get her head round to sea.  Perhaps, though, my old friend that served me in such good stead when the Gustav Barentz foundered may serve my turn better now; we’ll try a floating anchor, brother, that’s what we’ll do, eh?”

“All right, you know best,” replied Fritz, who, to tell the truth, had very little hopes of their ever seeing the island again.  He thought that, no matter what Eric might attempt, all would be labour in vain.

The sailor lad, on the contrary, was of a different opinion.  He was not the one to let a chance slip when there seemed a prospect of safety, however remote that prospect might be!

Rapidly attaching a rope round the bale of sealskins that were amidships, thinking these more adapted for his purpose than the oars, which he had first intended using, he hove the mass overboard, gently poising it on the side and letting it slip gradually into the water.  He did this in order that he might not disturb the balance of the boat, which any sudden rash movement would have done, causing her probably to heel over-for the waves, when they raced by, came level with her gunwale, and an inch more either way would have swamped her.

In a few seconds after this impromptu anchor was tried, the effect on the whale-boat’s buoyancy became marvellous.

Swinging round by degrees, Eric helping the operation by an occasional short paddle with one of the oars he had handy, the little craft presently rode head to sea, some little distance to leeward of the sealskins whose weight sunk them almost to the level of the water; and then, another unexpected thing happened.

The oil attached to the still reeking skins came floating out on the surface of the sea, so calming the waves in their vicinity that these did not break any longer, but glided under the keel of the boat with a heavy rolling undulation.

“This is more than I hoped!” exclaimed Eric joyfully.  “Why, we’ll be able to ride out the gale capitally now; and, as soon as the wind chops round-as it has already done in the upper currents of air, a sure sign that it will presently blow along the water from the same quarter-why, we can up anchor and away home!”

“How shall we ever know the proper direction in which to steer?” asked Fritz, who was still faint-hearted about the result of the adventure.

“We won’t steer at all,” said Eric.  “There are no currents to speak of about here; and as we have run south-westwards before the north-easter, if we run back in an opposite direction before the south-wester, which is not far off now from setting in, why we must arrive pretty nearly at the same point from which we started.”

“But we may then pass the island by a second time and be as badly off as we are now.”

“What an old croaker you are!” cried Eric impatiently.  “Won’t I be on the look-out to see that such an accident as that shan’t happen?  We’ll have to be very careful in turning the boat however-so as to bring the wind abeam when we get up abreast of the island, in order to beat into the bay-for the poor craft is so leaky and cranky now that she’ll not stand much buffeting about.”

“Can’t I do anything?” asked Fritz, beginning to regain his courage and bestir himself, now that he reflected that their chances of getting back to the island were not so precarious and slight as he had at first imagined.

“Yes, you can bale out the boat, if you like,” said Eric.  “She’s nearly half full of water now and continues leaking like a sieve.  The seams strain and yawn awfully when she rides, even worse than when she was flying along at the mercy of the wind and waves.  Still, we must try to keep her clear if possible, as the lighter and more buoyant she is, the better chance have we of getting out of this mess.”

“I’ll do the baling gladly,” rejoined Fritz, really pleased at doing something, and beginning at once with the job, using a large tin pannikin that they had taken with them.

“Then, fire away,” said Eric.  “It will be as much as I can do to attend to the steering of the boat.  Look sharp, old fellow, and get some of the light ballast out of her!  I see a light scud creeping up from leeward, behind us, with the waves fringing up into a curl before it.  The wind has chopped round at last and we’ll have to cut and run as soon as it reaches us.”

Fritz baled away with the tin pannikin for dear life.

“Now, brother,” cried Eric, a moment later, “get your knife ready, and go forwards into the bows.  I want you, the instant I sing out, to give a slash across the painter holding us to our moorings.”

“What, and lose our bundle of sealskins!” exclaimed the practical Fritz.

“Lose them?  Of course!  Do you think we’d have time to lug them into the boat before we’d be pooped!  What are the blessed things worth in comparison with our lives?”

“I beg your pardon,” said Fritz humbly, always ready to acknowledge when he was in the wrong.  “I spoke unthinkingly; besides, if we lose these, we’ve got plenty more under the cliff by our hut.”

“Aye, if we ever reach there!” replied Eric grimly.  Although taking advantage of every possible device to reach the island again, as a sailor he was fully conscious of the dire peril they were in.  “Now, Fritz,” he called out presently, as a big white wave came up astern, “cut away the painter, and just give a hoist to the jib and belay the end of the halliards, half-way up.  There, that will do.  Lie down for the present, old fellow.  The wind has reached us at last; so, it’s a case of neck or nothing now!”

Hardly had Eric uttered the last words, when a sudden rush of wind struck the boat’s stern like a flail, seeming to get underneath and lift it out of the water.  The next instant the little craft sank down again as if she were going to founder stern foremost; but, at the same moment, the wind, travelling on, caught the half-set jib, and blowing this out with a sound like the report of a cannon, the small sail soon began to drive the boat through the swelling waves at racing speed.

Onward speeded the boat, faster and yet faster.  Fortunately, the mast was a strong spar, or otherwise it would have broken off like a carrot; as, even with the half-hoisted jib, it bent like a whip, thus yielding to the motion of the little craft as she rose from the trough of the sea and leaped from one wave crest to another.  The boat appeared just to keep in advance of the following rollers that vainly endeavoured to overtake her, and only broke a yard or so behind her stern-which, on account of her being a whale-boat, was built exactly like her bows and thus offered a smaller target for the billows to practise on, as they sent their broken tops hurtling after her in a shower of thick foam.

Eric had an oar out to leeward steering, while Fritz crouched down amidships, with the belayed end of the jib halliards in his hand, ready to let them go by the run when his brother gave the word; and, as the boat tore on through the water like a mad thing, the darkness around grew thicker and thicker, until all they could distinguish ahead was the scrap of white sail in the bows and the occasional sparkle of surf as a roller broke near them.

Should they not be able to see where they were going, they might possibly be dashed right on to the island in the same way as they had seen the unfortunate brig destroyed.  It was a terrible eventuality to consider!

Presently, however, the moon rose; and, although the wind did not abate its force one jot, nor did the sea subside, still, it was more consoling to see where they were going than to be hurled on destruction unawares.

Eric was peering out over the weather side of the boat, when, all of a sudden, on the starboard bow, he could plainly distinguish the island, looking like a large heavy flat mass lifting itself out of the sea.

“There it is!” he cried out to Fritz, who at once looked up, rising a little from the thwart on which he had been lying.

“Where?”

“To your right, old fellow; but, still ahead.  Now, we must see whether we can make the boat go our way, instead of her own.  Do you think you could manage to haul up the jib by yourself?  Take a half-turn round one of the thwarts with the bight of the halliards, so that it shall not slip.”

Fritz did what was requested; when Eric, keeping the boat’s head off the wind, sang out to his brother to “hoist away.”

The effect was instantaneous, for the boat quivered to her keel, as if she had scraped over a rock in the ocean, and then made a frantic plunge forwards that sent her bows under.

“Gently, boat, gently,” said Eric, bringing her head up again to the wind, upon which she heeled over till her gunwale was nearly submerged, but she now raced along more evenly.  “Sit over to windward as much as you can,” he called out to Fritz, shifting his own position as he spoke.

Almost before they were aware of it, they were careering past the western headland of the bay, when Eric, by a sudden turn of his steering oar, brought the bows of the whale-boat to bear towards the beach.  The little craft partly obeyed the impetus of his nervous arm, veering round in the wished-for direction, in spite of the broken water, which just at that point was in a terrible state of commotion from a cross current that set the tide against the wind.

But, it was not to be.

The doom of the boat was sealed in the very moment of its apparent victory over the elements!

A return wave-curling under from the base of the headland, against whose adamant wall it had hurled itself aloft, in the vain attempt to scale the cliff-falling back angrily in a whirling whish of foam, struck the frail craft fair on the quarter.  The shock turned her over instantly, when she rolled bottom upwards over and over again.  The sea then hurled her with the force of a catapult upon the rocks that jutted out below the headland; and Fritz and Eric were at once pitched out into the seething surf that eddied around, battling for their lives.

How they managed it, neither could afterwards tell; but they must have struck out so vigorously with their arms and legs at this perilous moment, in the agony of desperation, that, somehow or other, they succeeded in getting beyond the downward suction of the undertow immediately under the overhanging headland.  Otherwise, they would have shared the fate of the boat, for their bodies would have been dashed to pieces against the cruel crags.

Providentially, however, the strength of the struggling strokes of both the young fellows just carried them, beyond the reach of the back-wash of the current, out amidst the rolling waves that swept into the bay from the open in regular succession; and so, first Eric and then Fritz found themselves washed up on the old familiar beach, which they had never expected to set foot on again alive.

Here, scrambling up on their hands and knees, they quickly gained the refuge of the shingle, where they were out of reach of the clutching billows that tried to pull them back.

As for the boat, it was smashed into matchwood on the jagged edges of the boulders, not a fragment of timber a foot long being to be seen.

The brothers had escaped by almost a miracle!

“That was a narrow squeak,” cried Eric, when he was able to speak and saw that Fritz was also safe.

“Yes, thank God for it!” replied the other.  “I had utterly given up hope.”

“So had I; but still, here we are.”

“Aye, but only through the merciful interposition of a watchful Hand,” said Fritz; and then both silently made their way up the incline to their little hut by the waterfall, unspeakably grateful that they were allowed to behold it again.

Never had the cottage seemed to their tired eyes more homelike and welcome than now; and they were glad enough to throw themselves in bed and have some necessary rest:- they were completely worn-out with all they had gone through since the previous morning, for the anxious night had passed by and it was broad daylight again before they reached shore.

Not a particle of the boat or anything that had been in her was ever washed up by the sea; consequently, they had to deplore the loss, not only of the little craft itself, the sole means they had of ever leaving the bay, but also of the carcase of the goat they were conveying home to supply them with fresh meat, as a change from their generally salt diet.  The sea, too, had taken from them their last haul of sealskins, which had cost them more pains to procure than the much larger lot they had pitched down from the plateau, and which fortunately were safe.

Nor was this the worst.

Their two rifles and the fowling piece-which Fritz had taken with him, as usual, in his last hunting expedition, for the benefit of the island hen and other small birds-as well as the harpoons, and many other articles, whose loss they would feel keenly, were irrevocably gone!

But, on the other side of the account, as the brother crusoes devoutly remembered, they had saved their lives-a set-off against far greater evils than the destruction of all their implements and weapons!

The first week or two of their return from this ill-fated expedition, Fritz and Eric had plenty to do in preparing the bundles of sealskins they had secured in their first foray, and which they found safe enough at the bottom of the gully where they had cast them down from above; although they little thought then of the peril they would subsequently undergo and the narrow chance of their ever wanting to make use of the pelts.

Still, there the skins were, and there being no reason why they should not now attend to them, they set to work in the old fashion of the previous year, scraping and drying and then salting them down in some fresh puncheons Captain Fuller of the Jane had supplied them with, as well as a quantity of barrels to contain their oil, in exchange for the full ones he had taken on board.

After the skins were prepared, the blubber had to be “tried out” in the cauldron, with all the adjuncts of its oily smoke and fishy smell, spoiling everything within reach; and, when this was done, there was the garden to attend to, their early potatoes having to be dug up and vegetables gathered, besides the rest of the land having to be put in order.

They had no time to be idle!

Christmas with them passed quietly enough this time.  The loss of the boat and the escape they had of their own lives just preceded the anniversary, so they felt in no great mood for rejoicing.  In addition to that, the festival had too many painful memories of home, for which they now longed with an ardent desire that they had not felt in their first year on the island.

The fact was, that, now the whale-boat was destroyed, they were so irrevocably confined to the little valley where their hut was planted- shut in alike by land and sea, there being no chance of escape from it in any emergency that might arise, save through the unlikely contingency of some stray passing vessel happening to call in at the bay-that the sense of being thus imprisoned began to affect their spirits.

This was not all.

Their provisions lately had been diminishing in a very perceptible manner; so much so, indeed, that there was now no fear of their being troubled with that superabundance of food which Eric had commented on when they were taking the inventory of their stores!

But for some flour which Captain Fuller had supplied them with, they would have been entirely without any article in the farinaceous line beyond potatoes, their biscuits being all gone.  The hams and other delicate cabin stores Captain Brown had originally given them were now also consumed; so that, with the exception of two or three pieces of salt pork still remaining and a cask of beef, they had nothing to depend on save the produce of their garden and some tea-all their other stores as well as their coffee and sugar having long since been “expended,” as sailors say.

The months passed by idly enough, with nothing to do, and they watched for the approach of winter with some satisfaction; for, when that had once set in, they might look for the return of the Pilot’s Bride to rescue them from an exile of which they were becoming heartily weary.

The penguins departed in April, as before, leaving them entirely solitary and more crusoe-like than ever, when thus left alone themselves; and, then, came the winter, which was much sharper than previously, there being several heavy falls of snow, while the waterfall froze up down the gorge, hanging there like a huge icicle for weeks.

It was dreary enough, and they hardly needed the wintry scene to make their outlook worse; but, one bitter morning they made a discovery which filled them with fresh alarm.

They had finished eating all their salt pork, but had never once opened the cask of beef since Eric abstracted the piece he roasted the year before “for a treat”; and, now, on going to get out a good boiling piece, in order to cook it in a more legitimate fashion, they found to their grief that, whether through damp, or exposure to the air, or from some other cause, the cask of beef was completely putrid and unfit for human food!

This was very serious!

They had kept this beef as a last resource, trusting to it as a “stand-by” to last them through the winter months; but now it had to be thrown away, reducing them to dry potatoes for their diet-for, the penguins, which they might have eaten “on a pinch,” had departed and would not return to the island until August, and there was no other bird or animal to be seen in the valley!

Their plight was made all the more aggravating from the knowledge of the fact that, if they could only manage to ascend the plateau, they might live in clover on the wild pigs and goats there; so, here they were suffering from semi-starvation almost in sight of plenty!

Fritz and Eric, however, were not the sort of fellows to allow themselves to be conquered by circumstances.  Both, therefore, put their thinking caps on, and, after much cogitation, they at last hit upon a plan for relieving their necessities.