HAPTER XIX.

CAST ASHORE.

WHEN Jack opened his eyes he lay for some time wondering where he was
and what had become of him. There were stars in the sky overhead, but
the light was stealing over it, and he felt that it was daybreak. There
was a loud, dull, roaring sound in his ears--a sound he could not
understand, for not even a breath of wind fanned his cheek. At last
slowly the facts came to his mind. There had been a great storm, the
vessel was among the breakers, he had got into the long-boat with Arthur
to put in the plugs, they had been lifted up and blown away--and then
suddenly Jack sat upright.

It was light enough for him to see that he was still in the boat, but
its back was broken and its sides staved in. Around him was a mass of
tangled foliage, and close beside him lay Arthur Hill, the blood slowly
oozing from a terrible gash in his forehead. Jack leaned over and raised
him, and loudly shouted his name in his ear. With a sigh Arthur opened
his eyes.

"What is it, Jack?" he asked feebly.

"We are saved, old man. We have been blown right ashore in the boat, and
we have both got shaken and hurt a bit; but, thank God, we are both
alive."

"Where are we?" Arthur asked, looking round.

"As far as I can see," Jack replied, "we are in the middle of a grove of
trees that have been blown down by the gale, and the leaves and branches
have broken our fall, otherwise we must have been smashed up. We must
have been lying here for the last ten hours. It was just about six
o'clock when we struck, for I looked at the clock in the cabin the last
time we were down there; and as the sun will be up before long, it must
be getting on for five now. Now, let us try to get out of this."

With the greatest difficulty, for they were still weak and terribly
shaken, the boys made their way through the tangle of trees and
branches, into which they had so providentially fallen. Both uttered an
exclamation of surprise as they reached the edge of the wood: the sea
was nearly half a mile away! A tremendous surf was still breaking, and
for a quarter of a mile out a band of white breakers extended along the
shore. There were no signs of the _Wild Wave_.

Scarce speaking a word they made their way down to the shore, with the
faint hope that some of their comrades might have been thrown on the
strand alive. A few bits of broken timber alone showed that a wreck had
taken place; the rest had probably been swept by the current up or