The wind had failed
him, and nothing was left but to drift. All that day he drifted, and
night came on. Still it continued calm. Tom was weary and worn out,
but so intense was his excitement that he could not think of sleep. At
midnight the wind sprung up a little; and now Tom determined to keep
awake, so that the boat might not again double on her track. He blamed
himself for sleeping on the previous night, and losing so much
progress. Now he was determined to keep awake.

His resolution was carried out. His intense eagerness to reach some
shore, no matter where, and his fear of again losing what he had
gained, kept sleep from his eyes. All that night he watched his boat.
The wind blew fitfully, sometimes carrying the boat on rapidly, again
dying down.

So the next morning came.

It was Thursday.

It was Monday night when he had drifted out, and all that time he had
been on the deep, lost in the fog.

And now, wearied, dejected, and utterly worn out, he looked around in
despair, and wondered where this would end. Fog was everywhere, as
before, and, as before, not a thing could be seen.

Hours passed on; the wind had sprang up fresh, and the boat went on
rapidly.

Suddenly Tom sprang upright, and uttered a loud cry.

There full before him he saw a giant cliff, towering far overhead,
towards which the boat was sailing. At its base the waves were
dashing. Over its brow trees were bending. In the air far above he
heard the hoarse cries of sea-gulls.

In his madness he let the boat drive straight on, and was close to it
before he thought of his danger. He could not avoid it now, however,
for he did not know how to turn the boat. On it went, and in a few
moments struck the beach at the base of the cliff.

The tide was high; the breeze was moderate, and there was but little
sun. The boat was not injured by running ashore there. Tom jumped
out, and, taking the rope in his hands, walked along the rough and
stony beach for about a hundred yards, pulling the boat after him.
There the cliff was succeeded by a steep slope, beyond which was a
gentle, grass-grown declivity. Towards this he bent his now feeble
steps, still tugging at the boat, and drawing it after him.

At length he reached the grassy slope, and found here a rough beach.
He fastened the boat securely to the trunk of a tree that grew near.

Then he lifted out the box of biscuit, and over this he threw the sail.

He stood for a few mome