It was an anxious time for all on board, as well as for the little colony in the huts on the ocean shore of the islet. And when the tide had reached its height, and the great clipper, with all her canvas set to utilize the wind’s force as well as that of the sea, finally rose, literally inch by inch, until her keel rode the long swells without scraping or bumping, a rousing cheer burst from dozens of throats. Then, the reef well astern, there sounded the creaking of the capstan as the anchor chain was paid out, and the clipper came to rest again quietly, a hundred or more yards from the scene of her imprisonment. All preparations had been made for leaving the island on the following day, if the ship should succeed in freeing herself from the reef, and by sunrise of the next morning her sails were once more set, and the capstan busily winding in the anchor. Early as it was, Erica was up on deck, leaning against the rail on the port side, to watch the green jungle growth of the hillside slip smoothly and silently into their wake. In the midst of all the jubilation about her, she was conscious of a vague regret. Of course she didn’t want to have to spend the rest of her life on this island, but she had only had ten days of it, and she had enjoyed to the full every moment of every one of those days. In all probability she would never see those steeply-sloping green shores again; never explore strange and beautiful jungle paths such as she had known till then only in the pages of story books; never swim in a brilliantly blue lagoon inside the reef, and watch, down—down—_down_ through its clear depths, the antics of strange fish and other exotically colored little sea creatures for which she had no names, disporting themselves gayly in the routine of their every-day marine existences. It had been a very wonderful experience, that ten days’ stay on the island—Hurricane Island, they had unanimously decided to name it, for obvious reasons. However, there would be exciting tales to tell her friends at home on Nantucket, which was, in a measure at least, consolatory. There was, also, the tragic story of the lost _Narwhal_, and the finding of those of her crew who had survived. All Nantucket would want to hear that tale over and over in the days to come. And much good had come to the whole company on board the clipper. Sun Li was unmistakably better; so was Aunt Charity. As for the rest of them, their sunburnt, wind-tanned faces and glowing eyes fairly radiated health. The only cloud that overshadowed their skies in the week of their passage north was the realization of the sad news they carried to the families of the mate and those other sailors of the _Narwhal_ who had not come home. But they tried not to think of this any more than they could help. At least they had rescued Captain Joy and eight sailors, which would mean happiness in nine island families. That was pleasanter to consider than the other side of the picture.