Slowly the hours of the morning dragged by. There was no let-up in the hurricane, for such it really proved to be. The wind blew strongly all the time, but occasionally would come a heavy blast that fairly made the island tremble. The lightning had died away somewhat, but now and then would come a great flash, followed by a crash and rumble that would echo and reecho among the rocks.
"Just look at the ocean!" cried Dave, as he and his chums walked to one corner of the entrance to gaze out.
"The waves seem to be mountain-high," returned Phil. "You wouldn't think it possible a ship could live on such a sea."
"Well, it is mighty dangerous, Phil; you know that as well as I do."
"I hope the Golden Eagle weathers the storm."
"We all hope that."
Dinner was a rather scanty meal, cooked with great difficulty in a hollow of the rocks. The smoke from the fire rolled and swirled in all directions, nearly blinding everybody. But the repast was better than nothing, and nobody grumbled.
By nightfall the rain ceased. But the wind was almost as strong as ever, and when those in the cave ventured outside they had to be on guard,
