When he got to it the flames had disappeared; like
Jack-o'-the-lantern, the phosphoric fire receded from him. With all his
strength he strove to launch her, yet paused, for over the surface of
the black water, now smooth and waveless, played immense curling flames,
stretching out like endless serpents, weaving, winding, rolling over
each other. Suddenly they contracted into a ball, which shone with a
steady light, and was as large as the full moon. The ball swept along,
rose a little, and from it flew out long streamers till it was unwound
in fiery threads.

But remembering that the flames had not even scorched the canvas, he
pushed the canoe afloat, determined at any risk to leave this dreadful
place. To his joy he felt a faint air rising; it cooled his forehead,
but was not enough to fill the sail. He paddled with all the strength he
had left. The air seemed to come from exactly the opposite direction to
what it had previously blown, some point of east he supposed. Labour as
hard as he would, the canoe moved slowly, being so heavy. It seemed as
if the black water was thick and clung to her, retarding motion. Still,
he did move, and in time (it seemed, indeed, a time) he left the island,
which disappeared in the luminous vapours. Uncertain as to the
direction, he got his compass, but it would not act; the needle had no
life, it swung and came to rest, pointing any way as it chanced. It was
demagnetized. Felix resolved to trust to the wind, which he was certain
blew from the opposite quarter, and would therefore carry him out. The
stars he could not see for the vapour, which formed a roof above him.

The wind was rising, but in uncertain gusts; however, he hoisted the
sail, and floated slowly before it. Nothing but excitement could have
kept him awake. Reclining in the canoe, he watched the serpent-like
flames playing over the surface, and forced himself by sheer power of
will not to sleep. The two dark clouds which had accompanied him to the
shore now faded away, and the cooling wind enabled him to bear up better
against his parching thirst. His hope was to reach the clear and
beautiful Lake; his dread that in the uncertain light he might strike a
concealed sandbank and become firmly fixed.

Twice he passed islands, distinguishable as masses of visible darkness.
While the twisted flames played up to the shore, and the luminous vapour
overhung the ground, the island itself appeared as a black mass. The
wind became by