The prize was called the Flèche, belonging to Dominique.  Mr Collinson having to select a crew, among others took Jack Windy, Grimshaw, and Bill, and Tommy Rebow to attend in the cabin; having, besides, a mate and a midshipman to act as his officers.  The corvette could ill spare so many men, but the prize was a valuable one, and it was important to take her into Port Royal in safety.

On reaching the brig, it was found that the schooner had taken a considerable amount of property from her, though prevented by the appearance of the corvette from removing much of her cargo.  The captain of the brig was very grateful for his release, and went rejoicing on his voyage, hoping not to fall in with a similar customer.  The Flèche, under her new officers and crew, stood away to the westward, hoping, after rounding Cape Saint Antonio, to have a quick run to Jamaica, while the corvette continued her voyage through the Bahama sea, towards Saint Domingo.

For some time the schooner enjoyed fine weather, and everybody on board was happy and contented, imitating the temper of the lieutenant, who was especially so.

Bill, under Jack Windy’s instruction, perfected himself in his hornpipe, and Jack declared, and even old Grim growled out an assent, that there were not many lads of his age who could beat him.  The wind was very light, so that, after having parted from the corvette some four or five days, they had made but little way.  Bill, of course, had a very slight idea all the time where they were, for charts and maps were not common between-decks.  They had been on board the schooner some ten days or more, when the weather began to cloud over, and just the same appearance came on which Bill remembered before the hurricane they had met with on their passage from England.

“What do you think of it?” he asked of old Grim.

“Why, if Mr Collinson don’t look out bright, we shall have the masts out of the ship, that’s all,” answered Grim.

Mr Collinson was, however, looking out bright, and soon summoned on deck by the mate who had charge, he gave orders to furl all sail, except a close-reefed fore-topsail.  There was not a breath of wind.  The sea was like a looking-glass, the heat was intense.

“No doubt it’s old `Harry Cane,’ come to pay us a visit, as he’s not got the change out of us yet,” growled old Grim.

The lieutenant and his two young officers walked the deck, looking somewhat anxiously.

“There are some ugly rocks and banks clustering pretty thickly about here,” he observed to one of them, “and if we have to run on in the dark, Providence alone can take us clear of them.”

“I would rather trust to Providence than to our own wisdom or skill,” thought Bill.  “He who took care of us before will take care of us now.”

Some time passed, and still the calm continued.  Even Mr Collinson began to think that, after all, the hurricane was not coming.

“Don’t let him fancy any such thing,” observed old Grim.  “Depend upon it, if `Harry Cane’ has made up his mind to come aboard us, come he will; but whether or no he will take the masts out of us, or send us to the bottom, is another thing.”

The sky still remained overcast, and the heat increased.  The men were piped to dinner, and many a joke was cut at the mess-tables about the expected hurricane.

“Oh!  It’s only a make-believe, after all,” observed Jack Windy, as he tossed off his grog, dinner being over.

The men had not left their seats, when, on a sudden, a loud low roar was heard.

“All hands on deck!” shouted Mr Collinson.

“All hands on deck!” echoed the voice of the acting boatswain, piping shrilly as he spoke.

The men rushed from below.  They had scarcely gained the deck, when that same frothy, hissing line of foam was seen advancing which had before been seen.  Like a blow from a mallet, the gale struck the vessel.  At first, she seemed to hesitate to move forward.  Then she sprang on, and away she flew dead before it.  On she went, the seas increasing rapidly as she advanced.  In a short time, however, the wind shifted and caught the sail aback.  The schooner seemed about to make a stern-board.  Before the order could be given to let go the sheets, a loud thundering noise was heard like the report of a piece of ordnance, and the sail, blown from the bolt-ropes, flew away before the blast.  The fore-staysail was run up, and once more the schooner’s head was turned away before the wind.  On again she flew in a different direction.

“It is as I feared,” said Mr Collinson to the mate, Mr Tatham.  “She is going right in among the rocks and shoals in the direction of the Tortugas.”

There were no signs of the hurricane abating; indeed, it seemed wonderful that with the cross-breaking seas which raged round the vessel, she should not have been sent instantly to the bottom.  Mr Collinson and the mate were at the helm.  Jack Windy was stationed to look out ahead not that looking out would do any good.  The schooner flew on.  Night was approaching.  Darkness added horror to the scene.  Even the oldest seaman felt his heart sinking, and his cheek paler than usual.

Sunshine Bill knew as well as any one the danger the schooner was in, but he said to himself, “This is what seamen have to go through, and He who saved us before can find a way now for us to escape, even though coral reefs or rocky islands are ahead.”

The crew kept at their stations.  No one felt inclined to go below.  Like true British seamen, they determined boldly to face the danger.  Now and then there was a lull and hopes were entertained that the hurricane was breaking.  It only seemed to be taking a rest to obtain fresh strength.  Hour after hour the schooner flew on.  Once or twice Mr Collinson went below to look at the chart, but he was quickly on deck again to resume his post.

“We must be in the midst of reefs and banks, Tatham,” he observed.  “Look out on the starboard bow there.  See that wall of white?  The sea is meeting with resistance there, depend on it.”

Presently there was a cry forward

“Breakers!  Breakers on the starboard bow.”  The helm was put a-starboard, in the hopes of avoiding the reef.

“Breakers!  Breakers ahead!” again shouted Jack Windy.  “Breakers on the larboard bow!”

“Grimshaw, come and help Mr Tatham at the helm,” shouted Mr Collinson; and he went forward, scanning the raging, breaking sea ahead.

Soon it seemed as if all around there was a semicircle of white foam, rising like a lofty wall to impede their progress.  Just in one spot there appeared to be a break.  He hurried aft and put the helm to port, boldly steering the schooner towards it.

Still there was but little hope.  Destruction seemed to await the vessel and all on board.  On, on she flew.  In another instant there was a fearful crash, and the masts bent like willow wands.  Over they went, carrying two poor fellows with them, whose death-shriek was heard above the roar of the breakers.  Again the schooner struck.  Another sea came roaring up astern, as if it would wash all from her decks and hurl them to destruction.  The remainder of the crew clung to ring-bolts or stanchions, or whatever they could grasp.  The sea lifted the schooner and sent her farther on the reef.  Again and again she struck, as if every timber was about to separate.  Another sea roared up, and striking her like a huge hammer, broke her into a thousand fragments, sending those on board far into the water, clinging to the fragments.  Happily she had been driven almost over the reef, on the inner side of which the sea was comparatively smooth.  Thus those who had been clinging to portions of the wreck were able to support themselves.

Sunshine Bill had been holding on to a ring-bolt in the deck, and when the ship broke up, he found himself still doing so, and floating on a portion of it which had been sent a considerable distance from the reef.  He looked around him to see if any of his shipmates had also escaped immediate destruction.  As far as he could see, the water seemed covered with pieces of timber, which were torn off from the wreck.  Among them he thought he could distinguish some human forms.  He shouted.  A voice answered him:  it was that of Tommy Rebow, close to him, floating on a fragment of the bulwarks.

“Oh!  Help me, Bill!  Help me!  I cannot hold on much longer, and the piece of wood I have hold of is scarcely enough to keep me afloat.”

Bill felt tolerably secure where he was, yet he could not bear the thoughts of letting Tommy perish if he could help him; so, leaving his own piece of the wreck, he struck out towards his messmate.  He fortunately had not many yards to go before he got up with Tommy.

“Hold on,” he said, “and I’ll tow your raft up to mine.  I don’t want to run the risk of letting you catch me round the neck as you did the other day.  But cheer up; I don’t think we’re going to die this time.”

With these encouraging words, Bill towed Tommy up to the piece of deck, which was amply large enough to support them both.  Having got on it himself, he managed, though not without difficulty, to hand Tommy up also, and there together they clung to the ring-bolt.

“I wonder who else has escaped?” said Bill.  “I’ll shout out.  Listen if anybody answers.”

Even to Tommy, Bill found it necessary to speak very loud, on account of the roar of the breakers, which seemed even louder on that side of the reef than on the other.

“Anybody floating away there?” shouted Bill, his shrill voice being heard above the dull roar of the ocean.  “Hark!  I hear two or three voices replying,” said Bill.  “Let’s give them a cheer, to keep up their spirits; perhaps they will come and join us here.  I do hope Mr Collinson has escaped, and Jack Windy, and poor old Grim, and the other fellows too.  Yes, I am nearly certain that is Jack’s voice.”

“Is there room for anybody else where you are?”

“Yes!” shouted Bill and Tommy.  “Plenty for you, if you will come to us.”

In a short time Jack managed to swim up to the raft.  It was very evident that it had been drifting still farther away from the reef.  They helped Jack up as he reached the raft, considerably exhausted by his swim.

“We have got inside a lagoon,” he observed when he was seated on deck.  “If it had not been for that, we should all have been dead by this time.  But I have some hopes that others may have escaped.  Look away down there to leeward.  Can’t you see something rising up against the sky?  They look to me like cocoa-nut trees, and I should not be surprised if there’s an island down there, and that, if we are in luck, we shall be landed on it before the night is over.”

Bill thought with Jack that he could see trees.

“Well,” he said, “we at all events have to be thankful; but I do hope Mr Collinson has escaped.  What would that poor young lady do if he was drowned?  I should not like to go back to Jamaica to have to tell her.  Dear me!  It makes my heart bleed to think of it.”

“I can’t help thinking that there are some other people down away there, holding on to other pieces of the wreck,” said Jack; “but, you see, the breakers make such a roar that ’tis hard to hear a hail at any distance.  I only just heard your’s and Tommy’s squeaking voices, and I was not half as far off as those pieces of the wreck are.  Well, it’s an awful scene.  I never saw a vessel go to pieces so quickly before; but then, to be sure, it’s not often a craft gets such tremendous blows as she did.  Nothing made of wood and iron could have held together, I am sure, on that reef.”

While Jack was making these remarks, he was looking out to try and get some smaller pieces of timber to serve, he said, as paddles.  At length they came up with a floating spar for it must be understood that they were moving faster through the water than the other pieces of wreck, owing to their bodies holding the wind and serving as sails.  Jack managed to secure this prize, and Bill directly afterwards got hold of a piece of board.  As the water was smoother the farther they got away from the reef, they were the better able to use these paddles, not being obliged to cling any longer to the ring-bolt.  As they advanced, the shadowy forms of the trees appeared before them, becoming at length sufficiently distinct to assure them that an island was at no great distance.  A surf, however, broke on the shore, though it did not appear to be very dangerous.  They could just see a sandy beach, a few feet high only, with a grove of tall trees.  At length, hurried on by the gale, and by their own exertions, the raft reached the beach, when a sea striking it washed them off, though happily they were thrown sufficiently high up the sand to enable them to gain their feet and scramble up out of the way of the succeeding sea.

Sunshine Bill did not forget to whom he was indebted for his preservation, and falling on his knees, to the surprise of his companions, he offered up a short thanksgiving for his safety.

“And I am sure we ought to be thankful too,” said Jack, imitating his example.

“And I wish you would just say a word for me,” said Tommy.  “I am not much accustomed to pray I never learnt.”

“Oh!  Tommy,” said Bill, “it doesn’t require practice.  God doesn’t care about the words.  Just thank Him from your heart, and never mind how you speak your thanks.”

“I say, Jack, let us look out and see if we cannot help some of the other fellows,” said Bill, as he rose from his knees.  “Maybe they will come ashore more exhausted than we are, and perhaps not be able to help themselves out of the water.”

Jack and the two boys stood looking out over the lagoon.  They could see the white wall of foam as it rose over the reef, and between it and them could distinguish several floating objects, but whether human beings or pieces of the wreck, it was hard to tell.