As the old sailor made his way back to the island, he was alarmed to see how rapidly the water was rising over the marsh. He splashed knee-deep in the water at every step and it was easy to see that it still continued to rise with astonishing rapidity.

His first act on reaching the island was to move the camp to the highest knoll of ground, already the lowest lying portions of the island were submerged. Chris had regained consciousness though he was still too weak to move without assistance. He watched the old sailor's preparations with evident interest and looked at the rapidly rising water with evident anxiety.

"If dat water doan stop comin' up, we is sho' goin' to hab a hard time gettin' anythin' to eat," he observed. "Can't get ober dem rock no way when dey is covered wid water, sho' to break a leg in one ob dem holes."

"The Lord will watch out for us, lad," encouraged the captain. "Look at all that He has brought us through. He has never deserted us in our hour of need."

"Golly! I reckon dat's so," agreed the little darkey, thoughtfully. He remained quiet for a few minutes then said quaintly, "'Spect's we oughter ask him to look out foah Massa Charley an' Massa Walt. I'ze getting plum anxious 'bout dem two white chillins. Dey had oughter been back long 'fore dis. Massa Charley's mighty clever, but I 'spect dat it wouldn't do no harm to ax de Lawd to help him out a bit if he's in trouble."

"No one can do without the Lord's help, Chris," the captain said, gravely, "an', I reckon, them lads need it powerful bad. Something pretty serious has happened, I 'low, to keep them from coming back. We'll ask the Good Lord to watch out for them an' protect them."

The old sailor knelt by the little negro's side and in simple seafaring language prayed that the Heavenly Father would watch over and protect the missing ones.

The simple steadfast faith of the old seaman and the trusting little negro filled them with a sense of security and peace. They doubted not that their humble petition would be answered and that now a Heavenly Eye was watching over them and their absent companions and that a Divine Hand would guide them through their trials and danger. They stretched out on their leafy couches and went fast to sleep, while the storm raged and howled around them and the rising water crept slowly up on their little island.

It was broad daylight when they awoke and looked about them. It was a wild and terrifying scene that met their eyes. The marsh between them and the sea was completely submerged and covered with rolling white-caps. Far out on the reef they could see the mighty rollers flinging their spray forty feet in the air when they struck the sunken rocks. Of the island, none remained except the high sands and knoll upon which was their camp. Between the island and the mainland was two miles of swirling, foaming water.

"Can't get to shore, no ways, now, Massa Captain," Chris observed. "You had oughter gone in las' night when you had a chance an' left dis nigger behind."

"The Lord will look out for us, lad," said the old sailor cheerfully. "I don't calculate that the water's going to rise high enough to cover this knoll we are on an' as soon as the wind drops a bit, the boys will be back for us with a boat. It's just a matter of being patient for a little while. We may get a little bit hungry, but, I reckon, we can stand that without grumbling."

"Sho' we can," agreed Chris, bravely. "Tho' hit do seem like I was gettin' powerful hungry already. Ain't dar none of dem cassava roots dat we can get at?"

A close search revealed that most of the patch of tubers was covered by the rising water. A few plants however still showed on the little knoll and these the captain dug at once. There was only a scant half peck of the roots but that was better than nothing.

The old sailor kindled a little fire and roasted all the roots in the coals.

"We might as well have one good full meal," he observed, "I never did take much stock in this idea of going on short rations when grub is scarce. I always 'lowed that one good feed would carry a man further than a dozen pesky little ones that only tantalize the stomach."

But the roots shrank greatly in the cooking, by the time the skins were removed, there was but little left for the hungry castaways. They still felt empty after their meal was finished.

The day dragged wearily away with no sign of abatement of the storm. The water continued to rise slowly, but so slowly that the two anxious watchers were not without hope that the little knoll on which they were would escape the overflow. Their position was by no means uncomfortable. There was no rain and the weather was so warm that the wind did not cause them to suffer any from cold. Aside from their growing hunger and their anxiety about their missing companions, they were quite comfortable. Chris, in fact, was in better shape than at any time since they had been cast on shore.

"I don' reckon dis storm can las' berry much longer," he observed, cheerfully, when the sun went down in a perfectly clear sky. "Dar ain't no clouds to back up de wind an' hit's bound to play out 'fore long."

"That's just where you're wrong, lad," said the captain. "A gale from a clear sky is the worst of all. I ain't ever seen many of them but what I have seen were all hummers."

The two sat looking out on the gloomy waste of waters until the moon, now at its full, rose and lit up the wild scene about them almost as brightly as day. At last they tired of the wild, gloomy, disheartening scene, and, after a short prayer together, stretched out on their couches. Chris was almost instantly asleep but the captain lay long awake, his mind full of their helpless situation, and, of anxious conjectures as to the fate of the two absent lads. His own position and that of his little companion was such as to awaken his deepest fears. So long as the storm continued, their rescue by land or Gulf was impossible. No boat could live amongst the rocks and raging waters which now surrounded them. His long experience told him that the storm was likely to continue at least two days longer.—He had seen similar gales blow for an entire week without a let up. Even after the gale was over, it would take some little time for the waves and water to subside. At the best, they would suffer greatly from hunger before their rescue would be possible. But, to do the old sailor justice, his thoughts were not so much of their own situation as of the absent lads. He could only hope and pray that they had not started to return by water before the breaking of the storm.

As he lay motionless musing, his ear caught a low grating sound as of heavy objects drawn on coarse sand. He quickly sat up on his couch and looked around. In the bright moonlight he could see large dark objects moving over the white sand.

"'Gators, an' a regular drove of them," he exclaimed. "Wake up, Chris! Wake up!"

The little negro struggled up into a sitting position, still half asleep.

"What's de matter, Massa Cap?" he inquired.

"Look at them 'gators, thar's dozens of them. We've got to have a fire mighty quick an' stick close to it."

Chris greeted the sight of the dark objects with a cry of joy.

"Oh, Golly! De Good Lord's dun answered our prayers. Dem's turtles."

The old sailor sprang to his feet and would have dashed for the nearest object if the little negro had not restrained him.

"You sho' scare dem all away if you do dat way," he cautioned. "Jus' wait till dey gets to layin' an' you can walk right up on 'em."

The huge creatures crept steadily on up the shelving knoll. Their progress was slow and clumsy, and their lower shells dragging over the sand had made the grinding noise the captain had heard. They crept up to within ten feet of where the two watchers lay, then, they halted, and, with their hind flippers began to dig deep holes in the soft sand.

"Dey lays der eggs in dem holes an' covers dem up wid sand," Chris explained in a whisper. "Dey each lays mighty nigh two hundred eggs. De warm sand hatches out de little turtles."

The two castaways waited until the great sea hens had begun to lay, then Chris arose and walked directly for them without any attempt at concealment. The turtles did not pay the slightest attention to his approach.

"We'll take dese two smallest ones," he announced. "Dey will be de tenderest. Jus' grab de shell wid me, Massa Cap, back by de hind flippers an' we'll flop 'em over on his back. Keep youah eyes an' mouth shut."

But the old sailor was too excited to heed the advice. He grabbed the turtle's shell and heaved, then staggered back spitting and coughing with mouth, eyes, and ears full of sand, which the creature with it's flippers sent flying in a cloud about it.

Chris waited until he had relieved himself of the stinging sand and this time the captain, following his advice, kept mouth and eyes tightly closed. A few seconds sufficed to turn the two turtles on their backs where they lay helpless.

There must have been at least thirty turtles in the bunch but the castaways contented themselves with only turning the two, any more would have been useless slaughter. Those unmolested quickly completed their laying, covered the eggs and retreated to the water.