he came to the conclusion that the land astern of
them was one of the Isles of Shoals, for they never could have made Boon
Island without tacking. But he could not see how, with the wind
northeast, and the yacht close-hauled, she had brought up on the Isles
of Shoals. Tom helped him solve this difficulty by declaring that he had
not been very particular in keeping her close up to the wind.

Having satisfied himself on this point, the youthful skipper proceeded
to decide upon his future course. If he continued to sail towards the
north, he was in danger of running upon Boon Island. The night was
coming on and it promised to be a night of peril.

There were only two methods open to the young navigator. He must either
attempt to make Portsmouth harbor again, or stand out to sea. In the
dense fog, it would be extremely perilous for him to try to find the
port from which they had sailed; and on the other hand, it seemed
scarcely less perilous to go to sea with the prospect of a gale before
him. It was an anxious moment for poor Paul, for he felt that the safety
of the yacht and of his misguided companions were in his keeping, and
before God he felt responsible for them. He tried to hold a consultation
with Tom and some of the larger boys, but they were utterly incapable of
giving him any advice. They were completely bewildered, and looked up to
Paul as children to a father, in the midst of the dangers into which
they had so recklessly and criminally plunged.

The heart of the young captain was full, as he thought of his mother and
his friends at home. He felt his own weakness, his own ignorance, and,
stealing away from his companions he went below, and, on his bended
knee, looked to Heaven for that strength and that knowledge which Heaven
alone can give in the hour of peril. He prayed for himself, for his
brother, and for all his companions; but especially did he ask God to
give him wisdom to guide the frail bark through the perils that
environed her.

The prayer gave him resolution, and, as though his earnest supplication
had been heard, he felt competent to decide between the two courses
which alone were left open to him. The shore was studded with dangers;
and the broad ocean, though lashed into fury by the increasing tempest,
was preferable to a lee shore. The Flyaway was a stiff sea-boat, and if
well-managed, would ride out any gale that would be likely to come upon
them at this season of the year.

On his return