"
She closed her eyes and fell apparently to sleep, but really to
thinking.
Then David nudged Jack, and waked him. "Speak low now, Jack."
"What is it, sir?"
"Land ahead."
Jack looked out, and there was a mountain of jet rising out of the
sea, and, to a landsman's eye, within a stone's throw of them.
"Is it the French coast, sir? I must have been asleep."
"French coast? no, Channel Island--smallest of the lot."
"Better give it a wide berth, sir. We shall go smash like a teacup if
we run on to one of them rocky islands."
"Why, Jack," said David, reproachfully, "am I the man to run upon a
leeshore, and such a night as this?"
"Not likely. You will keep her head for Cherbourg or St. Malo, sir; it
is our only chance."
"It is not our only chance, nor our best. We have been running a
little ahead of this gale, Jack; there is worse in store for us; the
sea is rolling mountains high on the French coast this morning, I
know. We are like enough to be pooped before we get there, or swamped
on some harbor-bar at last."
"Well, sir, we must take our chance."
"Take our chance? What! with heads on our shoulders, and an angel on
board that Heaven has given us charge of? No, I sha'n't take my
chance. I shall try all I know, and hang on to life by my eyelids.
Listen to me. 'Knowledge is gold;' a little of it goes a long way. I
don't know much myself, but I do know the soundings of the British
Channel. I have made them my study.
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