The boat now returned to the ship, which it met at the distance of half a
mile from the inlet. The current setting southwardly, her progress had
been more rapid than when heading north, and her drift had been less
towards the land. Still there was so little wind, so steady a
ground-swell, and it was possible to carry so little after-sail, that
great doubts were entertained of being able to weather the rocks
sufficiently to turn into the inlet. Twenty times in the next half hour
was the order to let go the anchor, on the point of being given, as the
wind baffled, and as often was it countermanded, to take advantage of its
reviving. These were feverish moments, for the ship was now so near the
reef as to render her situation very insecure in the event of the wind's
rising, or of a sea's getting up, the sand of the bottom being too hard to
make good holding-ground. Still, as there was a possibility, in the
present state of the weather, of kedging the ship off a mile into the
offing, if necessary, Captain Truck stood on with a boldness he might not
otherwise have felt. The anchor hung suspended by a single turn of the
stopper, ready to drop at a signal, and Mr. Truck stood between the
knight-heads, watching the slow progress of the vessel, and accurately
noticing every foot of leeward set she made, as compared with the rocks.

All this time the poor fellow stood in the water, awaiting the arrival of
his friends, who, in their turn, were anxiously watching his features, as
they gradually grew more distinct.

"I see his eyes," cried the captain cheerily; "take a drag at the
bowlines, and let her head up as much as she will, Mr. Leach, and never
mind those sham topsails Take them in at once, sir; they do us, now, more
harm than good."