The day was one of terror, for many times waves would break over the small craft, forcing the men to bail for their lives.  Only cold provisions could be eaten, but in spite of this the little band of shipwrecked men maintained a cheerful demeanor.  As for Bob he did not deny that he was frightened.  He thought with sorrow of his father and mother and wondered if he would ever see them again.  He and the others had removed their life-preservers, as they did not need them in the gig.

“That was a plucky thing you did, saving that boat from going down stern first,” complimented the captain, a little later that day when they were talking over the events of the wreck.  “You showed good judgment, Bob.”

“Oh, I guess anybody would have done the same.”

“No, they wouldn’t.  You deserve great credit.  Bravery in the face of danger is bravery indeed.  Your father and mother can be proud of you.”

There came to Bob’s mind a memory of certain times when these words of the captain would not have been true.  He resolved, if his life was spared, to be a more manly boy in the future—­to live up to the captain’s new estimate of him.

Wearily the men labored at the oars.  It was hard work to keep the boats’ heads to the waves, which, to those in the small craft, looked like great green mountains of water.  Now the boats would be down in a vast hollow, with towering walls on either side.  Then the stanch craft would be lifted up and, poising on the crests, would slide down a watery hill with a sickening feeling, present at least in the hearts of Bob and Mr. Tarbill, that they were going straight for the bottom.  The nervous passenger sat huddled up in a heap, scarcely speaking.

The wind seemed to increase as night drew on.  The motion of the captain’s gig was such that he could not take an observation, and, when the blackness settled down, they had no idea where they were, nor in which direction the nearest land lay.

“I’m afraid we’ll be separated in the darkness,” said the captain, “but there is no help for it.”

The day of terror was succeeded by a night of peril.  The sea and wind seemed combining to wreck the small boats.  The one commanded by Mr. Carr managed to remain within hailing distance of the captain’s gig, but the other seemed to have disappeared.  A feeling of gloom settled down over the castaways.

It must have been about the middle of the night that Bob, working his way aft to get a drink of water from one of the casks, stumbled over part of the sail that was folded in the bottom of the gig.  He put out his hands, instinctively, to save himself, but, as there was nothing to cling to, he only grasped the air.

Then, with a cry of terror which he could not suppress, he plunged overboard and was soon struggling in the water.

He went down, but, being a good swimmer, he at once began to strike out, and as he got his head above the surface and shook the water from his ears, he heard one of the sailors cry: