hange was being wrought
in his brain. His foolish pride, his false sense of shame at changing
his hasty plan to desert, his bitter feeling toward the others,
gradually disappeared. Every oar-stroke brought him not only nearer the
island, but also nearer a sane, wholesome view of life itself.

His thoughts turned naturally to the group at the camp, this clean,
independent, self-respecting crowd, who cared no more for his money than
for the pebbles on the beach; who estimated a fellow, not by what he
had, but by what he was. After all, that was the real test; Percy could
not help acknowledging it.

Saddleback glimmered astern. The whistle south of Roaring Bull was
growing fainter. Percy felt encouraged. He turned his head. Yes,
Tarpaulin was certainly nearer. Disheartening though the pull was, he
had gained perceptibly. But the southwest breeze had stiffened, adding
its opposition to that of the tide.

It was now past eleven. He had decided that he must reach the cabin not
later than quarter to twelve. Barely half an hour longer! His hands were
blistered, his breath came in sobs, but he dragged fiercely at the oars.
At last he was stemming the strong tide-rip off Brimstone Point.

The next ten minutes were worse than all that had gone before. As he
surged unevenly backward and forward, the current swung the pea-pod's
bow first one way, then the other. Deaf and blind to everything but the
work in hand, Percy swayed to and fro. Foot by foot the boat crept round
the fringing surf at the base of the bluffs.

Hands seemed to be plucking at her keel, holding her back. It was no
use. They were too strong for him. All at once their grasp weakened. He
glanced up with swimming eyes. He had passed the eddy, and the entrance
of the cove was near. A few strokes more and the pea-pod grounded on the
beach. It was twenty minutes to twelve!

Percy staggered up to the cabin. All was dark and quiet. Gently lifting
the latch, he slipped inside, pulled the door to again, and stood
listening. The regular breathing of his sleeping mates reassured him.
Compelling himself to walk noiselessly to his bunk, he crept under his
blanket without even taking off his shoes.

He had been gone three hours; and they had been the most momentous hours
of his life.

_Kling-ng-ng-ng-ng ..._

Off went the clock. It was midnight. Muttering drowsily, Filippo slid
out of his bunk, checked the alarm, and lighted a lamp. Then he busied
himself with his cook