LOST ISLAND
climbed, stern first, up the side of an endless hill of green, pausing dizzily at the crest and careening over perilously under the pressure of wind.
Instead of moderating, the gale grew steadily worse, and both Dave and Tempest thought their end was approaching. There seemed no possible hope of the Nautilus keeping afloat. A dozen times she was on the verge of being swamped but always struggled bravely to right herself.
"It's my fault, lad," Tempest said, gripping the boy's hand. "I ought to have had more sense."
Dave's face was white. He looked a little older at that fearful moment. It was terribly hard to have to lie there, braced up against a seat, and do nothing but wait.
"Nobody could have known this was coming," he said quietly.
For about half an hour the storm lashed the surface of the sea with unbridled fury, and then, with startling suddenness, the wind dropped. Temp-
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