darkness, a baleful gleam which fascinated his eyes.  A feeling came to him now that all was over.  He felt, as though he were being sucked into some vortex, where Death lay in wait for him.  He trembled.  A prayer started to his lips, and burst from him.  Suddenly his boat seemed caught by some resistless force, and jerked to one side; the next instant it rose on some swelling wave, and was shot swiftly forward.  Tom closed his eyes, and a thrill of horror passed through every nerve.  All at once a rude shock was felt, and the boat shook, and Tom thought he was going down.  It seemed like the blow of a rock, and he could think only of the ingulfing waters.  But the waters hesitated to claim their prey; the rushing motion ceased; and soon the boat was tossing lightly, as before, over the waves, while the hoarse and thunderous roar of those dread unseen breakers, from which he had been so wondrously saved, arose wrathfully behind, as though they were howling after their escaped victim.  A cry of gratitude escaped Tom, and with trembling lips he offered a heart-felt prayer to that divine Power whose mighty hand had just rescued him from a terrible doom.

Tom’s agitation had been so great that it was long before he could regain his former calm.  At last, however, his trembling subsided.  He heard no longer the howling surf.  All was calm and quiet.  The wind ceased, the boat’s motion was less violent, the long-resisted slumber came once more to his eyes.  Still his terror kept off sleep, and as his eyes would close, they would every moment open again, and he would start in terror and look around.

At length he saw that the darkness was less profound.  Light was coming, and that light was increasing.  He could see the dark waters, and the gloomy folds of the enclosing mist became apparent.  He gave a heavy sigh, partly of terror at the thought of all that he had gone through, and partly of relief at the approach of light.

Well might he sigh, for this light was the dawn of a new day, and showed him that he had been a whole night upon the waters.

And now he could no longer struggle against sleep.  His eyes closed for the last time.  His head fell forward on the wet sail.

He was sound asleep.

VII.

Lost in the Fog.—­The Shoal and its Rocks.—­Is it a Reef?—­The Truth.—­Hoisting Sail.—­A forlorn Hope.—­Wild Steering.—­Where am I?—­Land, ho!

Tom slept for many hours; and when he at length awoke, he was stiffened in every limb, and wet to the skin.  It was his constrained position and the heavy fog which had done this.  He sat up and looked around with a bewildered air; but it did not take a long time for him to collect his wandering faculties, and arrive at the full recollection of his situation.  Gradually it all came before him—­the night of horror, the long drift, the frantic struggles, the boom of the surf, the shrill, penetrating tone of the fog horn, his own wild screams for help, the thunder of the breakers, and the grasp of the giant wave; all these, and many more, came back to his mind; and he was all too soon enabled to connect his present situation with the desperate position of the preceding night.