In that moment of joy his heart seemed almost ready to burst.  It was with difficulty that he calmed himself; and then, offering up a prayer of thanksgiving, he pushed off from the shore.

The boat floated!

The tide rose, and lingered, and fell.

The boat floated still.

There was not the slightest sign of a leak.  Every hour, as it passed, served to give Tom a greater assurance that the boat was sea-worthy.

He found no difficulty in keeping her afloat, even while retaining her near the shore, so that she might be out of the way of the currents.

At length, when the tide was about half way down, he found the fire burning too low, and determined to go ashore and replenish it.  A rock jutted above the water not far off.  To this he secured the boat, and then landing, he walked up the beach.  Reaching the fire, he threw upon it all the remaining wood.  Returning then to the boat, he boarded her without difficulty.

The tide fell lower and lower.

And now Tom found it more and more difficult to keep the boat afloat, without allowing her to be caught by the current.  He did not dare to keep her bows near the shore, but turned her about, so that her stem should rest from time to time on the gravel.  At last the tide was so low that rocks appeared above the surface, and the boat occasionally struck them in a very unpleasant manner.  To stay so near the shore any longer was not possible.  A slight blow against a rock might rub off all the brittle gum, and then his chances would be destroyed.  He determined to put out farther, and trust himself to Providence.

Slowly and cautiously he let his boat move out into deeper water.

But slowness and caution were of little avail.  In the deeper water there was a strong current, which at once caught the boat and bore her along.  Tom struggled bravely against it, but without avail.  He thought for a moment of seeking the shore again, but the fear that the boat would be ruined deterred him.

There was a little wind blowing from the southwest, and he determined to trust to the sail.  He loosened this, and, sitting down, waited for further developments.

The wind filled the sail, and the boat’s progress was checked somewhat, yet still she drifted down the bay.

She was drifting down past the north shore of the island.  Tom could see, amid the gloom, the frowning cliffs as he drifted past.  The firelight was lost to view; then he looked for some time upon the dark form of the island.

At last even that was lost to view.

He was drifting down the bay, and was already below Ile Haute.

XXI.

Scott’s Bay and Old Bennie.—­His two Theories.—­Off to the desert Island.—­Landing.—­A Picnic Ground.—­Gloom and Despair of the Explorers.—­All over.—­Sudden Summons.